A heretical cultivator in Bureau 749, I'm the fiercest at pulling out tendons and skinning peop

On the outskirts of Caiyun City, there is a bar called "Night Raven". Half of the neon lights on the sign are broken, leaving only the character "Raven" glowing faintly red in the darkness.

Pushing open the heavy soundproof door, a chilling aura mixed with cheap alcohol, cheap perfume, blood, and some indescribable smell hit you.

The lighting was dim, and the outlines were barely visible.

Dozens of people were scattered in various corners, in booths, and around the bar.

Their clothing was incredibly varied; some wore filthy Taoist robes, others wore tattered windbreakers, and still others dressed smartly but couldn't hide the fierceness in their eyes.

What they had in common was that they all carried an unsettling aura, whether strong or subtle.

At this moment, the bar was noisy, with conversations, clinking glasses, and low laughter all mixed together.

"Last month in northern Myanmar, we went to three villages to perform rituals to appease the souls of the dead, and finally finished making the Hundred Ghosts Banner. Hey, that resentment was really potent!"

A middle-aged man, as thin as a bamboo pole with high cheekbones, was boasting to the person next to him, spitting as he spoke, while gesturing with his hands.

"Three villages? And you're only making one banner? Brother, your efficiency is terrible."

A bald man with a scar on his face across from him chuckled and took a swig of his drink.

"Last year, I was in the Golden Triangle, and I collected five hundred souls in one night. The wailing was like a symphony, it was so soothing to listen to."

"What's five hundred?"

In the booth next to us, a fat man wearing a floral shirt, who looked like a businessman, spoke slowly, twirling two dark red beads in his hands, the material of which was unknown.

"I recently took on a side job, cleaning up the household of a warlord on the border. Seventeen members of his family, from an eighty-year-old woman to a three-year-old toddler, were slowly bled dry in front of him."

He squinted, as if savoring the memory.

"The blood filled the entire yard. The old woman cursed the most, but she also died the fastest. That three-year-old child, almost bled to death, was still whispering 'Mommy, it hurts'... Haha, interesting, really interesting."

Several people around him laughed in agreement, their eyes completely expressionless, as if they were discussing how delicious the snacks were for dinner.

"If I had to pick a card, it would be that Skinning Liu really knows how to play."

Someone at another table chimed in, their tone tinged with envy.

"Last time he caught a fair-skinned young man and skinned him for three whole days, leaving him with intact skin and still breathing. I heard that skin sold for a good price."

"Three days? That means his skills have declined! When I was young, I could peel a fine human skin for a drum in a day and a half at most, and it would never break or crack, and the sound would be crystal clear!"

"Come on, with your skills, the skin you peel off would look like a tattered sack..."

Vulgar language and gory gossip flowed freely in this dimly lit space.

Everyone is showing off and comparing themselves to others, as if the more people they kill and the more cruel the methods, the more face they have and the more they deserve to be recognized by the "circle".

The air was filled with an almost fanatical, morbid excitement.

Just then, the heavy soundproof door of the bar was pushed open again.

Then a tall, upright young man walked in slowly, leading a little girl who looked like a porcelain doll and accompanied by a huge black dog.

The noisy bar fell silent for a moment.

Dozens of eyes swept over at once.

Vigilance, scrutiny, curiosity, malice... all as tangible as reality.

Ji Zuodao seemed oblivious to the stares he was receiving, and walked straight to the bar, tapping on the table.

"Boss, a drink, a beer, please. And a juice for this little girl, with ice."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly through the quiet bar.

Behind the bar, the bartender didn't even lift his eyelids, as if he hadn't heard anything, and continued wiping the glasses.

Ji Zuodao clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction and tapped the bar table again with his finger.

"Hey, it's not like I can't afford to pay. Hurry up and get it over with."

A burly, bald man with a thick waist and a face full of scars swaggered over and plopped down on a high stool next to him, making the stool legs creak.

He glanced sideways at Ji Zuodao, grinned, revealing a few yellowed and blackened teeth:

"Hey kid, new here, huh? Money doesn't work here."

"Oh? It's free?"

Ji Zuodao's eyes lit up instantly, as if he had heard some incredibly good news, and he slammed his hand on the table:

"Holy crap! This is amazing! Dude, bring on the best beer! The Remy Martin, you know... seven or eight bottles to rinse your mouth first! And a fresh juice for my sister, quick and easy!"

The bartender behind the bar twitched his lips violently and stopped wiping the glasses.

Damn it, this greenhorn...where did he come from?

The bald, burly man ignored the bartender's reaction, his oily eyes darting back and forth between Qi Qi, who was sitting quietly next to Ji Zuodao.

His gaze swept from head to toe, as greedily as if he were appraising a piece of fine tender meat.

He leaned closer, his low voice carrying a familiar, bloodthirsty tone.

"Kid, here it is: flesh and blood, entrails, fresh parts... these are the real currency."

"A healthy heart, a healthy liver and kidneys, or even a pair of good hands and feet can be exchanged for whatever you want."

"I see!"

Ji Zuodao slapped his thigh as if suddenly realizing something, and gave the bald, burly man a smile that could be described as "sincere".

"Thank you so much, kind uncle! You're so kind!"

The bald, burly man's face contorted into a ferocious grin, and he licked his lips without any attempt to hide it.

"Don't mention it. How about I treat you to a drink? This little kid next to you has such delicate skin, let's go for it, it'll keep us brothers entertained at this bar for days."

"Hehe, these little cubs that haven't been weaned yet, their blood is sweet, their flesh is tender, and the sound they make... hey, it's the best-sounding."

Ji Zuodao nodded, indicating that he understood.

Then, he slowly reached into his pocket, rummaged around, and pulled out a slightly twitching, steaming, dark red lump of flesh.

With a "thud," it was gently placed on the smooth bar counter.

That was clearly a human heart.

"Okay, I understand the rules."

Ji Zuodao pushed the heart toward the bartender, then waved toward the bald, burly man as if shooing away an annoying fly.

"Go away, go beg somewhere else, don't keep me from drinking. Buddy—!"

He turned and yelled at the bartender again, "Do as I said, hurry up and bring it! Rémy Martin! Juice!"

The bald man's sinister smile froze instantly.

He instinctively wanted to slam his fist on the table and punch this reckless brat.

But suddenly he found that all the strength in his body seemed to have been drained in an instant, and he couldn't even lift a finger.

My chest feels...wet and warm.

He lowered his head stiffly, little by little.

All he could see was a hole the size of a bowl, open from front to back, on his thick chest.

The skin around the hole was still slightly curled, emitting wisps of heat, and the inside was empty.

He raised his hand blankly, touched the empty space, then looked up with a dazed gaze at the heart still beating gently and rhythmically on the bar counter.

That heart he knew so well, the one that should have been beating in his chest.

"My...my...heart..."

The bald, burly man let out a hissing sound as he trembled and reached out, trying to move forward and reach for the heart.

But after only two steps, the light in his eyes quickly dimmed.

His bloated body, like a punctured balloon, collapsed onto the floor with a thud, kicking up a small patch of accumulated dust.

Even in death, her ever-widening pupils reflected her own heart, which had ceased to beat, on the bar counter.

The already deliberately hushed noise in the bar completely disappeared at this moment.

Dead silence.

All eyes, whether open or hidden, were focused on the young man who was still lazily leaning against the bar.

He even idly flicked the still-beating heart with his fingertip.

"Hello!"

Ji Zuodao raised his head, his impatience returning, and raised an eyebrow at the completely petrified bartender.

"Where's the wine? Where's the juice? Are we even going to do business?"

"I have a rather bad temper."