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

The melon seed that Ji Zuodao was holding in his mouth cracked with a "crack".

His eyes were fixed on the menacing three-headed, six-armed statue on the distant ruins. After a long while, he finally managed to squeeze out a few words, tinged with sunflower seed shell fragments:

"My goodness..."

"This is the Plague Emperor Haotian!"

With three eyes and three heads and six arms, you can count the number of gods and immortals with this appearance on your fingers.

This image is so recognizable.

Ji Zuodao's gaze towards Director Lin immediately changed.

He had originally thought that although Director Lin was quite capable, he was probably the kind of honest person who didn't show off and did things in a proper and respectable manner.

But I never expected this...

The condensed form of this Dharma image often best reflects a person's true nature and inner character.

"Good heavens..."

"I really couldn't tell, Director Lin."

"You look so upright with your thick eyebrows and big eyes..."

"So, deep down, he's such a ferocious demon?"

He muttered to himself, his voice filled with the novelty of discovering a new continent.

How could this be described as a mild-mannered personality?

This is clearly the ancestor of plague gods appearing before our very eyes, and the true form of evil stars descending to earth!

Ji Zuodao finally understood.

These old folks have probably been living a life of ease for too long; their brains aren't working so well anymore.

Yes, Lin Wubing's cultivation level might not be as high as that of Uncle Zhang, who could directly confront multiple supernatural powers.

But the problem is, they're a plague!

Do you really think the title "Great Emperor of Plague and Plague" is just for show?

If you really push me too far, I'll activate my Dharma form and, without even lifting a finger, just take a stroll over your house to clear my head...

I reckon that apart from you few old monsters at the Divine Power Realm who can withstand it with your profound cultivation, there are no exceptions.

Every single one of his disciples, grand-disciples, and direct descendants will have to line up to be reincarnated by the King of Hell!

This is a fucking area attack, indiscriminate spread!

Amidst the ruins, the seven patriarchs scrambled to their feet, each covered in dust and looking utterly wretched.

The actual damage wasn't too severe; the key issue was that I was caught off guard and fell victim to the poison.

At this moment, I felt my internal organs churning, my mind and soul were in darkness, and a chilling, weak feeling permeated every bone in my body.

He could only forcefully raise his cultivation level and suppress the urge to shiver uncontrollably.

"Lin Wubing! Have you fucking lost your mind?!"

"You attacked me without any provocation, what exactly do you want?!"

"Damn it! Do you really think we're made of clay?!"

The seven patriarchs were furious.

Anyone who arrives unharmed and is brutally beaten before they can even exchange a few pleasantries would never be in a good mood.

Do you really think 749 can be so arrogant?

At that moment, the seven men were filled with rage and their evil intentions were born.

Surrounded by surging spiritual energy and with faint spiritual light behind them, seven enormous illusory figures of different shapes were about to soar into the sky.

However, to everyone's surprise—

On the opposite ruins, the menacing three-headed, six-armed plague god statue that had just slammed them into the ground suddenly vanished with a "poof".

Immediately afterwards, Director Lin himself, instead of taking advantage of the situation to coerce, angrily jumped down from the height and rushed to the front like a gust of wind.

His fingers were practically poking the noses of the old patriarchs, and he was cursing and spitting, almost spraying their faces with his saliva.

"You bastard!"

"How dare you?! Huh?!"

"Who gave you the audacity?! You bastards!"

The seven patriarchs: "...???"

What? How dare we?

No...were we the ones who were just knocked flying backwards and plowed furrows in the ground?

Why is this guy surnamed Lin even angrier than us? What kind of logic is that?!

In that brief moment of distraction, the six people's illusory Dharma images, which were just beginning to solidify, failed to materialize smoothly due to the shock to their minds.

In that split second, when the tide turned and the balance of power shifted—

"Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!"

Seven crisp, resounding slaps, delivered with distinct rhythm, echoed across the empty ruins!

Director Lin moved with ghostly speed, swinging his arm in a wide arc, leaving a solid, unambiguous, bright red handprint on the face of each elder.

The force was controlled to the absolute minimum.

It's not very harmful, but extremely insulting!

The seven patriarchs were stunned on the spot by the seven big slaps, covering their faces, their eyes wide open, their minds blank.

Two or three breaths passed before the Li family patriarch finally reacted. A surge of evil fire rushed to the top of his head, his hair practically stood on end, and his voice changed tone:

"You bastard surnamed Lin!! You're fucking asking for it—!!!"

With a roar, the violent spiritual power could no longer be suppressed and erupted!

Director Lin, however, remained unfazed. Instead of retreating, he stepped forward and grabbed the wrist of the Li family patriarch, which was trembling slightly and brimming with terrifying spiritual power.

Then, under the astonished gazes of everyone—

He grabbed that hand and pressed it directly onto the top of his head! As he pressed, he leaned his head forward, his eyes red, and growled in a near-mad voice:

"Come!"

"Shoot here!"

"Come this way! Kill me!"

"Now! Right here! Do it! Don't hesitate!"

The Li family patriarch was terrified by his sudden, suicidal act.

The palm, brimming with spiritual power, was neither a strike nor a retraction; all that remained was a desperate attempt to pull the hand back, the voice trembling:

"You! What are you doing?! Let go! Lin Wubing, are you crazy?! Let go right now!!"

The elders nearby were also terrified, and cold sweat instantly broke out on their foreheads.

What's wrong with this guy surnamed Lin today? Did he take the wrong medicine?

Seeing that the other party had backed down, Director Lin suddenly shook off the wrist of the Li family patriarch and slapped him hard across the other's other cheek, leaving him completely stunned on the spot.

"You dare not?"

He was panting heavily, his bloodshot eyes like those of a wounded beast, sweeping over the other six pale-faced elders one by one. His voice was hoarse but crystal clear, each word piercing to the heart:

"If you don't dare, what the hell are you doing here, talking nonsense with me?!"

"Come on! I've given you your chance!"

"And you?!"

"Should we make a move?!"

"I, Lin Wubing, am making this clear today! Anyone who tries to lay a hand on me, I will not fight back! I'll stand here and let you hit me! If you kill me, it's on me!"

"Come on!!"

The elders' faces turned pale and then red, their chests heaving violently, trembling with rage, their fingernails digging deep into their palms until blood seeped out.

At this moment, they truly wanted to disregard everything and join forces to blast this arrogant bastard into dust!

But their remaining rationality, like ice water poured over their heads, forced them to suppress their boiling murderous intent.

Killing a 749 investigator is a capital offense, a foregone conclusion, with absolutely no chance of escape.

Kill a provincial chief of Bureau 749, a high-ranking official of the imperial court?

That was beyond what "death" could describe.

It would be difficult to die even if you wanted to.

The Han Dynasty spans five thousand years. It may lack other things, but its methods of tormenting people are truly diverse and have a long history.

It's enough to make even the toughest bones regret being born, suffering the agony of wanting to die but unable to.

They dare not.

I really don't dare.

Looking at the seven patriarchs who had come with great momentum but were now like roosters with their necks being choked, their faces turning purple, their bodies trembling, and daring not to speak out in anger, the frenzied red in Director Lin's eyes slowly faded, replaced by a bottomless, icy pool.

He straightened the hem of his black trench coat, which had become slightly disheveled from his earlier movements, and slowly stood up straight, regaining his calm, even somewhat scholarly, demeanor.

However, when that gaze swept over the seven people, it still made the latter feel a chill to the bone.

"It seems no one wants to make a move."

He spoke softly, his voice not loud, yet it reached everyone's ears clearly.

"Alright then."

"Now, we can talk..."