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

Snow Mountain Hotel.

Ji Zuodao strolled in alone.

Sunlight streamed through the high glass dome, making the lobby so bright that people could see their shadows.

The moment my foot touched the gleaming marble floor, a middle-aged man in a sharp suit with a manager's name tag pinned to his chest strode up to me.

With a standard, almost rigid, professional smile on his face, he reached out to stop them:

"Sir, I'm sorry, the hotel is booked out for the entire day and is not open to the public. Please..."

He didn't finish his sentence.

Ji Zuodao didn't respond at all, he just smiled and flicked his wrist.

"Smack."

A soft sound.

He held the blood-stained invitation between two fingers and slapped it lightly onto the manager's stiff smile.

The invitation paper was cool to the touch, and the edges seemed slightly damp and uncomfortably sticky.

The hotel manager's professional smile froze instantly.

His eyes slowly moved down, focusing on the gold-embossed paper piece pressed against the tip of his nose.

When he saw the blood-stained patterns and the special mark, his pupils shrank sharply, and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

The manager is a member of the Zhou family, although his talent for cultivation is practically nonexistent.

At best, he'll only ever be able to struggle at the Meridian Opening Realm; he doesn't even know where the gate to the Spirit Sea is.

That's why he was assigned by the family to manage these family businesses.

That's precisely why he knew all too well what this invitation meant.

This is a "call to arms" for those lawless, reckless, and evil practitioners!

Anyone who can wield this thing is a ruthless and lawless individual with countless lives on their hands!

Is this young man a heretical cultivator?!

The manager's mind went blank for a moment, and he was a little dazed.

He subconsciously looked up and re-examined the young man in front of him.

The afternoon sun shone brightly, bathing the young man in golden light.

He has a handsome face, a smile on his lips, and clear eyes, even carrying the youthful vigor that one should have at his age, a vigor that hasn't been beaten down by life.

Bathed in light, he looked exactly like a sunny and cheerful young man who had just stepped out of school and was ready to play ball or go on a date.

This art style is off!

The manager was screaming inwardly.

Honestly, every single one of those heretical cultivators was a freak and a hideous creature.

Even those who practice enchantment techniques, though their appearances may be beautiful, still give off a creepy feeling.

The reason for this is partly because the cultivation method is evil, resulting in a state that is neither human nor ghost.

As for your other half... as the old saying goes, your appearance reflects your heart.

He spends all his time thinking about how to extract souls and refine spirits, peel off skin and dismantle bones. His heart is filled with nothing but bloodlust and resentment. How good-looking can he be?

Over time, that filthy smell seeped out from between the bones and stuck to the face, impossible to wash off.

However, there is another saying circulating privately within the evil cultivation circle: if you encounter an evil cultivator who looks particularly respectable and handsome, be sure to keep your eyes open.

That person is most likely not a kind soul.

It is the most heretical of all heretical practitioners, the most perverted of all perverts.

Because you can never guess what kind of madman is wrapped under that handsome exterior, or how many terrifying skills he possesses.

Looking down again, I saw the dark red bloodstains on the invitation card, not yet completely dried...

The hotel manager's calves started to cramp up uncontrollably, and a layer of white sweat instantly seeped out from his back.

The professional smile on his face had vanished, replaced by a mixture of fear, awe, and barely concealed panic; even his voice trembled slightly.

"I'm so sorry, sir! I was blind to your abilities; it was my mistake!"

He bowed even lower, almost at a ninety-degree angle, his tone respectful to the point of fawning:

"They...are all in the banquet hall on the second floor. I'll show you the way, this way, this way..."

"No need."

Ji Zuodao waved his hand, interrupting his eager suggestion.

He stood there, his nose twitching slightly, taking a deep breath as if savoring something, then pursed his lips, his face showing an expression that was a mixture of disgust and understanding:

"Why lead the way? We can find it by following the scent."

"This stench, like rats rotting in the sewers, is so strong, it's pungent even from 800 miles away."

After saying that, he ignored the hotel manager who was frozen in place, put his hands in his pockets, whistled out of tune, and walked straight into the hotel with an arrogant gait.

Perhaps the Zhou family wanted to create a dark atmosphere, as the lights were not on inside the Snow Mountain Hotel today.

All the windows were covered by heavy curtains, with only a few emergency lights and ambient lights in the corners emitting a faint, dim yellow light.

Apart from the lobby, the rest of the place was dimly lit and the view was blurry.

Just as Ji Zuodao's figure stepped out of the bright sunlight of the lobby and into the deliberately dimly lit interior of the hotel—

The hotel manager, who had been standing there with his back bent and secretly glancing around, suddenly felt a chill run down his spine!

He saw it.

In that very instant.

As the bright light faded from the young man, darkness, like a living curtain, quietly enveloped him...

That sunny and cheerful demeanor of hers vanished instantly, like dew under the scorching sun.

Instead, an evil aura spread out without warning, yet naturally.

Cold, playful, with a detached indifference as if looking down on ants, and a deeper, chilling interest.

Like a meticulously painted, warm oil painting, whose colors were carelessly erased by an invisible hand, revealing the originally hideous and grotesque draft underneath.

When the sunlight fades, evil spirits naturally arise.

With his hands in his pockets, Ji Zuodao swayed and made his way up the carpeted stairs to the second floor.

He stopped in front of two heavy solid wood doors, carved with intricate patterns, and without any hesitation, he lifted his foot and gently nudged them with his toe.

"Squeak—"

The door opened a crack.

Ji Zuodao squeezed in sideways, closing the door behind him with a soft "click".

Then, he stopped, raised his eyelids, and slowly scanned the area.

Wow.

He uttered a rather insincere exclamation.

"Looks like I'm a little late? Sorry everyone, there was a traffic jam on the way."

Inside, the spacious banquet hall had been rearranged.

All the long tables and dining chairs were moved to the corners, with only a few sofas and single chairs scattered around.

At this moment, there were already about fifty people scattered in those seats.

Yes, more than fifty people.

There was a gaunt old monk wrapped in a robe so dirty that its original color was no longer discernible, with his eyes closed and his fingers twirling human bone prayer beads;

There was a glamorous woman wearing a tight leather jacket, with a hot figure but pale makeup, and wisps of black energy swirling around her fingertips;

There was a mysterious guest shrouded in a wide black robe, with only two points of phosphorescent light flickering under the hood;

There are also business people who wear suits and ties and look respectable, but whose eyes occasionally flash with a cold, inhuman light.

Bizarre and varied, a chaotic dance of demons.

What they had in common was that they were all surrounded by a cold, obscure, and instinctively uncomfortable aura, whether strong or faint, that was definitely not that of a proper Qi cultivator.

The moment Ji Zuodao pushed open the door, over fifty pairs of eyes swept over him like an invisible net.

Curious, scrutinizing, indifferent, and with undisguised malice...

Several other gazes, upon landing on Ji Zuodao's face, flashed a fleeting glint in their eyes...

unlucky?

Yes, it's that feeling of pure bad luck—like suddenly stepping in dog poop while walking down the street, or being inexplicably hit by bird droppings on a sunny day.

Ji Zuodao raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly.

What does that mean?

At the same time.

In the monitoring room of the Caiyun 749 branch.

Looking at the fifty-odd faces—some grotesque, some eerie, some numb—transmitted by the high-definition camera, and the densely packed identity verification information popping up rapidly beside them…

The room full of investigators turned green with rage.

No, it's turned black.

It was as black as the bottom of a pot.

Sun Zhigang's thermos clattered onto the table, spilling hot water everywhere, but he didn't care. He pointed at the screen, his fingers trembling, his voice dry:

"I...I'm fucking...this is...!"

"This isn't a gathering of heretical cultivators...this looks like they're here for our Caiyun year-end awards ceremony!"

"The Mourning Ghost! The ringleader of the soul-trafficking case in the southwestern border region!"

"The Corpse King of Western Hunan! The wanted criminal who wiped out seventeen members of his family three years ago!"

"The witch! Suspected of transnational organ trafficking and sorcery-based murder!"

"And that guy in the suit! The smiling businessman! Smuggling funerary objects, cross-border money laundering, colluding with foreign forces!"

One name after another, one shocking case after another, were quickly reported.

Each one of them is a ruthless character who is on the 749 internal wanted list, with a hefty bounty, but is extremely difficult to capture and extremely dangerous.

If the group of evil cultivators who were exploited by Ji Zuodao at the "Night Raven" bar were just small fish and shrimps splashing around in the gutter, occasionally disgusting but unable to cause any big waves.

Those fifty-odd people in the banquet hall...

They're all monstrous sharks, with fangs, capable of wreaking havoc in their respective territories!

Now, this group of sharks has been gathered in a pool by an invitation.

And their only undercover agent from Bureau 749... was happily soaking in the pool.

This scene is too beautiful to look at.

Director Lin stared at the screen without saying a word, but silently lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

Behind the smoke, his eyes were dark and unreadable.

The water was deeper and muddier than he had imagined.

And that bait thrown into the deep water...

It seems like they're actually enjoying it?