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

Ji Zuodao took a deep breath.

The cold air, carrying moisture and a faint smell of blood, rushed into his lungs, but it did nothing to quell the ever-growing fire in his chest.

He gently and carefully put Qiqi down from his back and let her lean against a dry tree trunk.

Then, he straightened up.

He turned around.

Facing the demon-locking formation that shimmered with golden light and echoed with the incessant chanting of Buddhist scriptures.

Facing the nearly unrecognizable mess of Dog Lord in the center of the formation.

"Dog Lord".

Ji Zuodao spoke, his voice not loud, even a little soft, yet carrying a resolute and cold hardness.

"Stop howling."

"Save your energy."

"I'll do it right away..."

"I'll pick you up..."

"go home."

Ji Zuodao raised his hand, his fingers forming a knife-like shape, and with a "sizzle," he slashed his left wrist.

They were incredibly ruthless, without the slightest hesitation, as if they weren't cutting their own flesh.

Blood gushed out with a "plop".

It wasn't a slow, dripping leak; it was gushing out with a "glug-glug" sound.

Its dark red color had an indescribable, eerie glow, and under the surrounding Buddhist light, it exuded an sinister aura.

Ji Zuodao flipped his wrist, palm down, and splashed it fiercely at the golden, shimmering, chanting Demon-Locking Array!

Large gushes of his blood, still warm from his body, splattered onto the formation with a "splash," just like the ladleful scooped up during the Water Splashing Festival.

Sizzle—la la la!!

A strange sound, like a red-hot iron being quenched with water or ice being poured into boiling oil, suddenly exploded!

The golden Buddhist light that had been flowing freely on the formation quickly dimmed and dissipated.

The intricate Sanskrit characters carved on it looked as if they had been roughly wiped away by an invisible hand, making tiny crackling sounds, devoid of any spirituality.

Speaking of Ji Zuodao's blood, it is truly no ordinary blood.

Unlike blood used to exorcise evil spirits, Ji Zuodao's blood is the opposite. When it comes to things like Buddhist light, Taoist charm, and righteous energy, the effect is outstanding!

Like a hot knife cutting through lard, it melts at the slightest touch, specifically designed to break through the defenses of the "righteous path".

Of course, there is a limit to this.

If you were to ask him to use his blood to splash the protective array of Jinshan Temple, which covers the entire mountain and has deep roots, and drain all the blood from his body, he would probably only make a noise and scrape off some skin.

However, this Demon-Locking Array, though ingenious, is not on the same level as the mountain-protecting array.

Using his blood to break the curse is like using brine to make tofu—one thing subdues another, a perfect match.

Inside the Demon-Locking Array, the continuous chanting that had been drilling into the brain and seeping into the heart was instantly weakened by more than half as the array was defiled.

Although the echoes still lingered, the tune had long since changed from "cleansing the soul" to "wailing and howling," its power greatly diminished.

The tension that Dog Master had been holding so tightly against the corrosive influence of the chanting suddenly eased considerably.

It struggled to lift its eyelids, glanced at the array outside that was hissing and smoking, flashing with light, and so off-key that even its own mother wouldn't recognize it, and grinned as if trying to force a smile.

comfortable.

That feels so damn good.

This wailing and howling was much more pleasant to the ear than the pretentious chanting that had driven the dog crazy!

This is the real deal!

On Ji Zuodao's side, the wound on his wrist had stopped bleeding and started to close up thanks to his abnormal self-healing ability.

In no time.

The once dazzling golden demon-locking array vanished without a trace, like a soap bubble in the sunlight, with a "pop".

The last annoying chanting also came to an abrupt end.

In the open space, only the sound of the night wind blowing through the treetops and Dog Grandpa's heavy breathing remained.

Ji Zuodao stepped over the mess on the ground and walked to the almost unrecognizable "rotten flesh".

He crouched down, his movements lighter than ever before, and carefully extended his arm, passing it under Dog's drooping, battered body, before applying a slight force.

He picked up Dogye and carried him in his arms.

Upon touching it, it felt wet and sticky, and it was hard to tell if it was blood, mud, or something else.

Dog's body was as soft and light as a puddle of mud.

Ji Zuodao held it firmly, but his heart was beating a little erratically.

In a daze, it felt like I had returned to many years ago.

He was still young then.

If he misbehaved and fell, or if he hid and cried after being scolded by his master, Dog would do this: gently lift him up by the back of his collar with his mouth.

Or you could simply let him lie on your broad back and carry him around the Ailao Mountains.

The wind whistled in his ears as he wrapped his arms around Dog's neck, laughing carefree.

Now, the positions have been reversed.

He held Dog in his arms; Dog was so light in his embrace that it made his heart race.

"Dog Lord..."

Ji Zuodao cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound more relaxed.

"You've really lost out this time."

"I'm missing out on a meal of demon king meat."

"What a pity, I didn't remember you then, I didn't even leave you a single bone."

"They all ended up in the bellies of those starving ghosts who were reincarnated."

He kept talking, as if he were just chatting casually.

The dog in his arms, however, did not roll its eyes and curse him as a little brat as it usually did.

It merely rubbed against Ji Zuodao's chest very slightly, finding a slightly more comfortable position.

Then, a barely audible, satisfied gurgle escaped his throat.

Immediately afterwards, a soft but unusually steady snoring sound rang out.

It actually fell asleep in Ji Zuodao's arms.

Ji Zuodao tightened his grip on its arm.

Then he straightened up, turned around, and prepared to walk back the way he came.

He had just taken one step.

Then it stopped.

Because ahead, there was the entrance to the hidden forest path that he and Qiqi had stumbled upon.

I don't know when.

There's one more person.

A monk.

The monk stood there quietly, hands clasped together, eyes lowered.

He exuded no imposing aura, and even his breathing was barely audible, as if he had blended into the surrounding night and woods.

But he stood there, like an invisible mountain, blocking all paths.

Ji Zuodao's pupils contracted slightly.

He recognized the face.

No, to be precise, I saw it in Wang Xiang's fragmented memories.

The current abbot of Jinshan Temple.

Fa Ming.

The air seemed to freeze at that moment.

All that remained was the rustling of the leaves in the night wind and Old Dog's faint but steady snoring.

Ji Zuodao looked at Faming.

Faming slowly raised his eyelids and looked at Ji Zuodao and the dog in his arms.

Ji Zuodao stared at him for two seconds and then clicked his tongue.

"Tsk..."

"You monk, you're just like my dog."

"When I was a kid, I was naughty once and set its doghouse on fire."

"The fire was burning really hard, crackling and popping."

"And guess what happened?"

"Unhurriedly, Dog Master licked the last piece of meat from his food bowl clean, leaving not a single grain of rice behind."

"Then, he happily ran to the water vat next to him, scooped up a mouthful of water, and slowly used it to put out the fire."

"You really are just like Dog Lord."

"Aren't you afraid that those hungry wolves will really raid your thousand-year-old temple, leaving no stone unturned?"

Faming listened quietly as he finished speaking.

His hands remained clasped together, his face showing neither joy nor sorrow.

After a long pause, he slowly opened his mouth, his voice calm and devoid of emotion.

"Jinshan Temple has collapsed, but it can be rebuilt."

"If the palace collapses, it can be rebuilt."

"If the scriptures are lost, you can copy them again."

"If the incense goes out, it can be rekindled."

He raised his eyes, his gaze passing over Ji Zuodao and landing on the sleeping black dog in his arms.

Deep within that calm gaze, there seemed to be a faint, almost imperceptible heat.

"But what if he leaves?"

"This humble monk truly has no time."

Ji Zuodao's eyes began to turn cold.

Faming, however, seemed not to notice and continued in his calm tone:

"Benefactor, this humble monk has no intention of committing unnecessary killings."

"These are items from our Jinshan Temple."

"Put him down and get out."

"This humble monk will not chase after them, nor will he care what happens outside."

"Whatever makes you happy."

"Let's just say it's..." He paused, glancing meaningfully at Ji Zuodao.

"Here's some money from Jinghai 749 as an apology."

Faming knew exactly what was going on.

The scene of Jinshan being flooded and bandits ransacking homes outside, even if it wasn't the 749 Bureau of Jinghai directly involved, was definitely related to it.

Otherwise, how could such a coincidence happen?

I came to ask for this inner demon in the morning but failed. In the afternoon, a group of demon saints and bandits came knocking on my door.

They're clearly in cahoots!

Moreover, the bright white star easily reminds people of that person in Jinghai.

Not only did he see it, but several old monks also saw it, but no one said anything.

He even convinced himself that there were plenty of people who used the Taibai sword qi, and it wasn't necessarily the one from Jinghai.

It's like all the Gotham villains know who's behind the Batman mask, but no one dares to say it.

Because they would rather face a dark knight than a capitalist.

The Dark Knight might lock them up in Arkham, but capitalists would throw them into the Big Bird Club and sell them off.

Similarly, these monks dared not speak out, and even had to help cover it up, like an incompetent husband pretending to be asleep.

Therefore, Faming set out his terms.

Use the millennia-old accumulation of Jinshan Temple to exchange for the inner demon in Ji Zuodao's hands.

In his view, this deal was very fair.

It could even be a concession, a gesture of goodwill.

pity.

Ji Zuodao didn't think so.

Fuck you.

One middle finger is raised.

"You son of a bitch."

"This is my dog!"

"When did it become yours?!"

"ah?!"