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

Ji Zuodao's speech, in theory, was completely useless.

Which of these heretical cultivators isn't someone who lives on the edge of a knife and whose heart is calloused?

Passion? Ideals?

Don't be ridiculous, that thing was fed to dogs ages ago.

Ji Zuodao's speech was inspiring, but to actually get them all fired up and turn on each other based on just a few words...

That's not evil cultivation; those are innocent victims brainwashed by success-oriented education.

But something strange happened.

Ji Zuodao's last "Let's fight!" seemed to have a magical power.

With a kind of invisible, bone-chilling tremor, it buzzed and echoed in this frozen, enclosed space, crashing into everyone's eardrums and drilling deep into their brains.

hum-

It was as if an invisible string had been suddenly plucked.

A burly man closest to the bar was looking around in surprise and uncertainty.

Suddenly, his bloodshot eyes bulged out, and a beast-like "hoarse" sound came from his throat.

Without warning, he swung the heavy solid wood bar stool next to him and smashed it down hard on a skinny old man who was still in a daze!

"Bang!"

The dull thud of the skull cracking was like the sound of a starting pistol.

boom!

The entire ice cave exploded.

"kill--!!!"

"You son of a bitch! You stepped on my foot!"

"Your heart! Your heart is mine!"

"Those who block my way shall die!"

The string of reason snapped.

Greed, violence, bloodlust, and the long-suppressed resentment and anger of being used as a tool, mixed with the volcanic eruption of killing desire ignited by that eerie voice, instantly overwhelmed all restraint.

Forget the invitations, the prestigious families, the rules, the consequences... screw them all!

Now, only one primal, burning word remains in my mind—

kill!

In an instant, the bar transformed into the bloodiest arena.

The bald, scarred man who had just boasted about collecting 500 souls in one night now had a ferocious, grotesque expression on his face.

He ripped off the necklace made of finger bones hanging around his neck, put it to his lips, and blew on it fiercely—

"Ugh—!"

Amidst the piercing, shrill howls of ghosts, several blurry black shadows darted out from the finger bones and pounced on a dirty Taoist robe-clad figure who was chanting incantations and making hand seals.

The old man in the dirty Taoist robe let out a strange cry, and countless black beetles flew out from his sleeves, colliding with the shadow and tearing and devouring each other, making a teeth-grinding "crack" sound.

The old man then seized the opportunity to pounce, his withered, claw-like hand stabbing straight into the scarred man's eye socket!

"I'll gouge out your eyes and use them as a snack with my drink!"

On the other side, the chubby businessman in the floral shirt had long lost his previous composure.

His fat face trembled, and the two dark red beads in his hand suddenly glowed red, turning into two spinning blood-red skulls that screamed and flew around, indiscriminately tearing and sucking.

"Blood! Fresh flesh and blood!"

He laughed wildly, but his eyes scanned his surroundings warily. With incredible agility, his obese body dodged a poisoned bone spike that came from behind.

"Skin-Peeling Liu! You fucking ambushed me?!"

"Hehe, Fatty's skin is so smooth and shiny, perfect for making new dough!"

A sinister voice came from the shadows, and then a pale human skin unfolded as if it were alive, covering the fat man's head.

Chaos is escalating, and bloodshed is spreading.

Severed limbs and organs flew together, curses and screams resonated.

The radiance of magic, the buzzing of poisonous insects, the slicing of blades, the tearing of flesh...

Various sounds, lights, and smells blend together into a frenzied symphony.

In the heart of this chaos, on the frozen bar, Ji Zuodao pulled out an old speaker from somewhere and turned it on with a "click" using his fingernail.

The stirring and powerful "1812 Overture" burst into the bar!

Solemn strings and drumbeats symbolizing gunfire are strangely mixed with the tearing of flesh and the screams of death, forming an indescribable, violent symphony.

Ji Zuodao stood there, at the center of the roars and death.

He closed his eyes, stretched out his arms, and slowly swung them in time with the melody that was as rapid as a sudden downpour, yet strangely in sync with the rhythm of the killing.

With a light touch of the fingers, it's as if plucking invisible strings.

His wrists flipped as if stirring a boiling pool of blood.

He looked focused, even somewhat absorbed.

It was as if the horrific scene of flying flesh and dying before my eyes was not a bloody massacre.

It was a grand, wild, yet primal and beautiful performance.

He was an audience member.

He was also a conductor.

Qiqi remained quietly seated on the high stool by the bar, her short legs dangling slightly as she swayed gently, unable to reach the ground.

She held the half-finished glass of orange juice in both hands and sipped it slowly.

Its large eyes calmly reflected the scene of flying blood and flying magic before it, as if it were watching a slightly noisy cartoon.

Dog lay down under the bar, yawned widely, buried its head in its front paws, and decided to take a nap.

That's good. There will be a buffet when I wake up later.

Second floor, by the railing.

The teacup in the hands of the man in the suit and tie had long since frozen in mid-air.

He was completely unaware that scalding hot tea had spilled on the back of his hand.

His face, which always maintained a polite smile and seemed to have everything under control, was now ashen white, and his lips trembled slightly uncontrollably.

Looking down at the few evil cultivators with bloodshot eyes who were trying to rush up to the second floor, his boundless fear finally shattered his forced composure.

They've gone mad... They've all gone mad!

These filthy, lowly scum, fit only to wriggle in the gutter!

How dare they?!

How dare they turn their anger on me?!

"Get out of here! You sewer rats! Scum! I am..."

His voice became shrill and distorted with extreme terror.

It was futile to try to invoke the family connections behind them, to use their past authority to deter these irrational beasts.

But all that responded to him was an even more ferocious roar and the ear-piercing noise of the ice wall being scratched by fingernails and slashed by weapons.

"Blood...fresh..."

"His heart... must be very nourished..."

"Tear him apart!!!"

Finally, a blood-soaked, strangely bent-armed evil cultivator used a dagger to wedge himself into the ice crevice and leaped onto the second-floor platform.

Then came the second, the third...

The man in the suit screamed and backed away, knocking over tables and chairs, looking utterly disheveled.

He wanted to cast a spell, but his fingers trembled so much that he couldn't make the right hand seals;

He wanted to take out his protective amulet, but found that in the inner pocket of his expensive suit, besides the gold-embossed invitation, there were only a few useless bank cards.

"No...don't come any closer! Do you know who I am?! I'm from the Zhou family! I have an invitation! I'm an important person you need to curry favor with!"

His answer was a broken knife, stained with blood and bits of flesh and bone.

"Pfft!"

The blade plunged deep into his thigh.

The man in the suit let out a piercing scream that sounded inhuman. The intense pain made him lose his balance and fall to the ground in a sorry state.

"A noble person? Hehe...Isn't the blood of a noble person even more nourishing?"

A wicked cultivator, whose face was half-scratched and exposed white bone, lunged forward with a snarling mouth and bit the man in the suit's carotid artery.

"No--!!!"

The man in the suit struggled desperately, his expensive suit easily torn to shreds.

Then came the second person, the third person...

Fists, kicks, sharp teeth, or even tearing with bare hands...

"Mine! This arm is mine!"

"Offal! Fresh offal!"

"Bone marrow! Suck his bone marrow!"

The crazed heretics overwhelmed him, like a swarm of hungry rats pouncing on a piece of fresh meat.

The crisp crack of bones breaking, the dull thud of flesh being torn apart, the smacking sounds of swallowing and sucking...

Interspersed among them were the increasingly faint sobs and pleas of the man in the suit, until they disappeared completely.

A moment later, the crowd dispersed.

All that remained were some blood-stained rags, a few scattered, barely recognizable pieces of soft tissue, and large, glaring patches of dark red splattered across the floor and ice walls.

A delicate invitation card, embossed in gold and stained with blood at the edges, slowly floated down and landed on a small section of a severed finger.