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

Afu pushed open the heavy vermilion gate of the Zhou family's house with both hands and feet, his mind filled with only one thought—run! Run as far as you can!

The door had barely opened a crack when a dark shadow loomed in front of me.

Afu's legs went weak, and he almost knelt down on the spot.

Oh no! The guys at 749 acted so fast?! They've already blocked the door?!

His bladder was clearly empty, but now he somehow managed to squeeze out a few more drops, and the wet patch in his crotch expanded again.

Ok?

wrong.

Afu trembled as he lifted his eyelids and took a closer look—

It's not a black trench coat.

It was dissipated spiritual energy, dark and viscous, carrying a pungent, fishy, ​​and malevolent aura.

Thank goodness...

Wait! Something's not right!

Whose spiritual power is this color?

This is fucking heretical cultivation!

Upon closer inspection, the young man leading the group was surrounded by blood-red spiritual energy that gleamed ominously in the afternoon sunlight.

Afu swallowed hard, his mind momentarily blank.

"Gentlemen... this is..." His voice was dry, and he subconsciously shrank back.

Ji Zuodao was about to kick the door open when, unexpectedly, the door opened by itself from the inside, and an old man with a pale face and suspicious crotch poked his head out.

He raised an eyebrow and gave a smile that could only be described as "friendly":

"We're looking for the head of the Zhou family. Is he here?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Without a second thought, Afu nodded hastily, stepped aside, and gestured "please," his movements so quick it was as if he had rehearsed them.

"Please come in, everyone! The head of the family is inside!"

After saying that, he bowed and scraped, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace.

Behind Ji Zuodao, the forty-odd fierce-looking evil cultivators looked at each other, their expressions increasingly strange.

Hey?

How refreshing!

Having been a heretical practitioner for so many years, hiding and being hated by everyone, I have to climb over walls or break windows to enter other people's homes. When have I ever received such "treatment"?

Surprisingly, someone actually opened the door and bowed to greet them.

This Zhou family... they've got some pretty wild methods up their sleeves.

Although everyone had their doubts, they didn't stand on ceremony and filed in.

Afu watched the last evil cultivator's figure disappear through the door, let out a long sigh of relief, and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

Thank goodness, it wasn't 749.

As for whether the Zhou family is dead or alive...

What's it to him!

All he wants to do right now is run, immediately!

I can't stay in China anymore, so I have to smuggle myself to Myanmar to beg for a living.

Having some cultivation, surely in such a chaotic place, one wouldn't be so easily exposed?

As Ah Fu pondered this, he turned and ran swiftly in the opposite direction from the Zhou family's old house.

Run as fast as you can, run as far as you can.

He had only taken less than ten steps.

"Pfft."

A soft sound.

Afu's forward momentum abruptly stopped.

He lowered his head blankly, looking at his chest.

A withered hand, its fingernails filled with grime, emerged from his chest, warm blood still dripping from its fingertips.

In his hand, he seemed to be holding a slightly pulsating, dark red lump of flesh.

Afu's vision blurred, his ears rang, and in his last moments of consciousness, he vaguely heard a few words of conversation behind him:

"Tsk, why did you kill him? He was an old codger, skinny as a rake, not even enough meat to fill a tooth gap."

"You don't know anything! Old bones are the most flavorful! Take them home, throw them in a pot, simmer them over low heat, and make a pot of bone broth...tsk tsk, that's what you call delicious!"

"Huh? Wait a minute... why does this old man smell so strongly of urine?"

"Damn it! This is so damn bad luck! How am I supposed to make soup now?!"

Afu's last vestiges of consciousness were the strong smell of blood and a vague sense of regret for his wet pants.

Oh shit.

Even on his deathbed, he was so undignified.

The Zhou family's old house was in complete turmoil.

Ji Zuodao crossed his arms and leaned against the moon gate to watch the show.

These heretical cultivators are really damn professional at their jobs.

The Zhou family's fancy protective formations were no match for these professional grave-digging, tomb-robbing, and lock-picking evil cultivators, who saw them as nothing more than a child's snot.

Meanwhile, the Qi cultivators from the Zhou family who rushed over upon hearing the news acted just like panicked leeks in a field.

"Form the array! Form it quickly..." A middle-aged cultivator's shout was stuck in his throat.

He looked down at the claw that was still dripping black blood protruding from his chest, his expression somewhat bewildered.

The claw withdrew, taking his heart with it in the process.

The evil cultivator who made the move grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth: "What's with the formation? Line up, one at a time, no rush."

There's really no need to rush.

Because in the eyes of evil cultivators, these Qi cultivators from the Zhou family are no different from chicks lining up to die.

A heretical cultivator waved his hands, and dozens of pale white bone spikes shot out from his sleeves, precisely piercing the throats of three Zhou family disciples who were trying to flank him—even a string of candied hawthorns couldn't have been so neatly arranged.

The other evil cultivator took it even easier, simply pulling out a filthy, tattered bag. With the opening wide, a gust of cold wind howled, and the two Zhou family cultivators screamed as they were sucked in. The bag then emitted a sickening chewing sound.

"Use it sparingly! It would be so much better to refine it into a Yin Corpse!" someone nearby complained.

"I know, I know, I'll just give it a try..."

In the short time it takes for an incense stick to burn.

The Zhou family's Qi cultivators who rushed to the scene were all wiped out.

"Tsk, boring."

A burly, wicked cultivator flicked the blood from his knife. "I thought I could stretch my muscles a bit, but this is all?"

Be content.

His companion squatted on the ground, searching for valuables on the corpse of a Zhou family cultivator.

"How many years has it been since we've seen such a fat sheep? Look at this jade pendant, top-grade spiritual jade! These boots are even inlaid with lightness talismans! Damn, a noble family is a noble family, even a random one of them is this fat..."

The heretical cultivators began skillfully cleaning up the battlefield.

Ji Zuodao cleared his throat, his voice not loud, but precisely reaching the ears of each evil cultivator.

"Be quick and efficient. Grab whatever you see: spirit stones, magic tools, pills, books, rare treasures... but don't wander around like headless flies."

He pointed at several evil cultivators at the Dharma Aspect Realm: "You lot, go to the east warehouse, keep your hands and feet clean, and fill the storage bags until they are full."

Then he pointed to a few others: "You, go to the alchemy room and library in the west. Don't miss any of the alchemy furnaces, ancient books, or old bottles and jars."

"The rest of you—" Ji Zuodao grinned, revealing two rows of white teeth, "Free to roam. If you see anything valuable, pocket it. If anyone dares to resist…"

He made a throat-slitting gesture.

"Alright!"

"clear!"

"The Taoist priest is particular!"

The evil cultivators responded with a roar, their eyes gleaming with green light, and howled as they pounced on their respective targets.

The Zhou family mansion, which was usually dignified and heavily guarded, had now become a buffet for evil cultivators.

Crimson flames flew wildly, igniting the precious rosewood furniture;

The pale white frost spread, cracking the carved railings and painted beams of the white marble.

A dark, eerie wind howled, swirling up paintings, calligraphy, and antiques from all directions...

Cries, shouts, laughter, the clanging of ritual implements, the sound of buildings collapsing...

They intertwine into a chaotic and violent symphony.

Ji Zuodao was very satisfied.

That's more like it!

When evil cultivators get things done, they need this kind of momentum, this kind of efficiency, this kind of... well, professionalism.

He strolled slowly, as if taking a walk in his own backyard, occasionally offering a word of advice:

"Hey, that blue and white porcelain vase, it's from the imperial kiln of the previous dynasty, it's worth some money, let's take it."

"That calligraphy on the wall? Hmm... it's fake, worthless, burn it, it's an eyesore."

"Hey, these are golden nanmu pillars? Tear them down! We can get someone to make them into coffin boards; they'll definitely sell well!"