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

Maybe ten minutes, maybe half an hour.

The noisy bar finally quieted down completely, with only the Bluetooth speaker still futilely playing the rousing outro.

The stench of blood was so strong it was almost overwhelming, pressing heavily into every inch of the air.

A sudden gust of wind blew, causing the blood-stained, gold-embossed invitation card by the second-floor railing to flutter.

The invitation fluttered and swirled as it fell.

Ji Zuodao raised his hand, casually pinched it between two fingers, and precisely caught it.

At the same time—

"Click".

The music from the speaker suddenly stopped.

Dead silence.

A truly deathly silence, so quiet that even breathing is too noisy.

Limbs and severed bodies were scattered all over the ground, like the aftermath of an absurd performance art exhibition that no one bothered to clean up.

Ji Zuodao turned his head and scanned the area.

Besides myself, Qiqi, and Doggy who was dozing off, there was only one other person still breathing.

The old man in the black robe was still sitting in the corner booth.

Ji Zuodao raised an eyebrow, his gaze falling on the old man's ear—

Two streaks of dried blood hung there.

"Yo ho!"

He laughed, his voice unusually clear in the deathly silence.

"Old man, you've got some skills. You punctured my eardrum right away, and you weren't hurt?"

The old man in the black robe slowly raised his head, his cloudy eyes looking at Ji Zuodao's mouth as if he were reading lips.

A few seconds later, he forced a smile, and his hoarse voice rang out calmly:

"I can't compare to you, young man."

"A bounty hunter? Or...from Bureau 749?"

Ji Zuodao blinked, looking completely innocent: "I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Hmm." The old man nodded, his tone even more indifferent. "Looks like it's Bureau 749."

"Damn it, these days 749 is really willing to recruit anyone."

He clicked his tongue and sighed, "These days, there's no way for heretical cultivators to survive."

The old man chatted on and on, as if he were talking about the weather.

Ji Zuodao suddenly chuckled, revealing his signature little fang: "Old man, what are you waiting for?"

He deliberately drew out his words, with a touch of childlike mischief: "Is it—waiting for it?"

After saying that, he opened his mouth wide and stuck out his tongue.

He spat a half-dead, curled-up, pitch-black Gu worm into his palm.

The insect twitched slightly, clearly not far from death.

Ji Zuodao glanced at it, then threw the worm back into his mouth and snapped his teeth together.

"Crunch, crunch..."

He chewed with relish, his loud voice echoing through the deathly silent bar, as if he were chewing a crunchy candy.

The crisp chewing sounds rang out cheerfully in the deathly silent bar, even carrying a touch of rhythm.

He chewed as he continued speaking indistinctly, as if he were talking about the nice weather today:

"My third master taught me that you have to check everything you put in your mouth first. I checked it, but..."

He swallowed, licked his lips, and the sly smile in his eyes deepened.

"You don't seem to have checked the blood pill I gave you?"

"Didn't your master teach you that?"

The old man in the black robe remained silent for a few seconds.

Then, he slowly took out the few blood pills that Ji Zuodao had given him from his pocket, and without even looking at them, casually threw them into the pool of blood at his feet.

"Pat-pat, pat-pat."

The blood pill rolled around a few times, turning a dark red color.

The old man hadn't actually eaten anything; it was just a pretense.

"Of course I taught him." The old man's voice remained flat.

"Hehe." Ji Zuodao laughed even harder, his two little tiger teeth gleaming. "Then he taught you—"

He paused, then slowly added the last sentence, word by word:

"Shouldn't you take things given to you by other people?"

The old man in the black robe stiffened almost imperceptibly.

He slowly, very slowly, lowered his head and looked at his withered right hand.

The palm was slowly melting in an eerily calm manner.

Like a candle under the scorching sun, or like white sugar soaked in strong acid.

The skin and flesh melted and dripped away silently, revealing the stark white finger bones beneath.

The finger bones continued to soften and deform, turning into a pool of thick, viscous liquid mixed with blood, which dripped from the fingertips and fell onto the blood-stained floor.

The whole process was eerily quiet; there were no screams, no smoke, and not even the hissing sound of corrosion.

Only melting.

A resolute, irreversible melting.

The old man gave Ji Zuodao a deep look, leaned back on the sofa, and let out a long sigh.

"Oh shit."

His voice was a little hoarse, "This world is fucking unfair."

"We're all rats that can't stand the light of day, so why do we have to scavenge for food in the gutter while you get to stay in a cat's den, and you're even a cat on the official payroll."

Ji Zuodao grinned, revealing two rows of white teeth:

"There's nothing I can do about it, I'm just lucky, I have connections. Don't talk about me, see that—"

He gestured with his chin towards the dog yawning under the bar, "My dog, those are all officially registered."

The old man paused for two seconds, then squeezed out a sentence through gritted teeth:

"grass."

"Being born into the right family is truly a skill."

Ji Zuodao squatted down with a smile, looking directly at the old man:

"Are you just going to accept your fate like this? Or... why don't you try tearing your hand off? Maybe you can save your life."

"Alright, kid, stop messing with me. Just give me a quick death so I can hurry up and reincarnate. Maybe I'll get a good fortune in my next life."

"Alright then." Ji Zuodao suppressed his smile and stood up.

"etc."

"Um?"

The old man trembled as he bent down and, with his still-unmelted left hand, picked up the few blood-stained pills he had thrown away from the pool of blood.

Without even looking, he stuffed it all into his mouth.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

He chewed quite vigorously, his cloudy eyes slightly narrowed, as if he were savoring some unparalleled delicacy.

Finally, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he swallowed.

"That's impressive." The old man smacked his lips, a look of satisfaction appearing on his face. "Alright, let's get started."

Ji Zuodao raised an eyebrow. "Wow, old man, you're quite generous."

The voice just fell.

The old man, starting from the sofa he was leaning against, melted away silently and rapidly, like a wax figure under the scorching sun.

Clothes, flesh, bones... all turned into a pool of indistinguishable, viscous paste, slowly seeping into the fabric of the sofa and the cracks in the floor.

A few seconds later, only a small wet patch remained on the spot, along with a faint, strange, sweet and fishy smell in the air.

Ji Zuodao looked at the mark, sighed softly, and said with a hint of regret:

"Old man, what a pity, you're not qualified for the lottery to be reincarnated."

"Once it enters Dog Lord's belly, it can no longer enter the cycle of reincarnation. That's good, at least others have one less person in line."

"Dog Master—" he turned his head and called out to the area under the bar, "Dinner's ready!"

Under the bar, Dog, who had been lying there pretending to sleep, suddenly perked up his ears.

It lazily propped up its upper body, stretched out a long yawn, and then slowly swayed out.

The dog sniffed the air, then looked down at the mess of severed limbs scattered on the ground, and its dark eyes suddenly lit up.

"oops!"

Dog smacked his lips in satisfaction:

"That's more like it!"

"It's Chinese New Year, time to eat something good!"

Having said that, it wagged its tail merrily, took light steps toward the pile of freshly minced meat, sniffed it, and then...

Click, click.

The crisp sound of chewing rang out pleasantly in the quiet bar.