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

Zhu Cheng is gone.

He left quite gracefully, paying a bail fee and bringing out the dozen or so Imperial Guard spies plus the minor officer.

The bail amount was substantial; he didn't even blink when he swiped his card, while the young finance girl next to him, who was in charge of collecting the money, trembled three times.

To be honest, when Zhu Cheng saw more than a dozen Embroidered Uniform Guard spies plus a Embroidered Uniform Guard squad leader, he was stunned for a moment.

He knew better than anyone that the Jinyiwei's technology was outdated.

But he thought to himself, even though he was lagging behind, he had at least received professional training, so he should be able to hold out for a few more days.

The results of it?

an afternoon.

Just one afternoon.

A whole squad was wiped out.

Not one was left out, all of them were neatly arranged and scooped into the 749 Bureau's prison like dumplings being dropped into a pot.

Standing in front of the bail window, Zhu Cheng stared at the long list, only one thought swirling in his mind—

Is the Han Dynasty really that powerful now?

How can you play if the strength isn't reduced?

Is there a problem with the game's balance?

He even felt a deep sense of powerlessness for a moment.

It's like a swordsman who has practiced his swordsmanship for twenty years finally emerging from seclusion, only to find that his opponent has switched to using a machine gun.

What's the use of having the most exquisite swordsmanship?

They can shoot you with a burst of bullets and you won't even know how you died.

Times have changed, they really have changed.

He sighed, and led the group of dejected Imperial Guards out of the gates of Bureau 749 in a grand procession.

As soon as I reached the door, I bumped into a group of people.

Ao Yan was leading a group of people, who were being ushered off a bus.

The crowd included men, women, and children of all ages; there were women carrying children, elderly people with canes, and several teenagers.

Their faces were filled with confusion and unease, as if they had just been dragged out of their homes and had no idea what had happened.

Ao Yan's face fell the moment he saw Zhu Cheng and the people behind him.

Well, all that work for nothing.

He waved helplessly and shouted to the group of people who had just been arrested behind him, "Alright, alright, it's over. Everyone, disperse and go do what you were doing."

Before those people could react, still in a daze, they suddenly saw another group of people—the Imperial Guards agents who had just come out of the bail window.

"Wife?!"

"husband?!"

"dad?!"

The two groups collided instantly, shouts rising and falling.

Some people hugged each other and cried, some supported each other, and some held the child's hand and looked him up and down. The scene was very touching. If you didn't know better, you would think it was a large-scale family reunion.

Zhu Cheng stood aside, watching this scene, completely stunned.

No.

They even arrested their family members?

He turned his head and looked at Ao Yan, his eyes filled with shock, confusion, and a sense of accusation that said, "Aren't you guys going a bit too far?"

Ao Yan felt a little guilty under his gaze, scratched the back of his head, and chuckled awkwardly, "Well... the section chief said, just in case, we'd like to invite you over for a cup of tea, have a chat, and maybe get to know each other better..."

Zhu Cheng took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled.

He told himself to maintain his composure, to stay calm, and to be cultured.

But I was already cursing under my breath.

The rule of not harming one's family is a common practice in the martial arts world, and also a tacitly accepted bottom line in the cultivation world.

Is Bureau 749 a legitimate organization? How could they do something like this?

Is the problem with Bureau 749, or with Ji Zuodao?

Zhu Cheng closed his eyes, rubbed his temples, and felt that his blood pressure was already too high today.

He led his group away without looking back.

Third floor of Building 749, by the window.

Ji Zuodao watched expressionlessly as the group downstairs reunited, recognized each other, and then left in a grand procession, like a group of disturbed ants that had finally rejoined their ranks.

He stood by the window, motionless, like a statue.

But his fingers were inserted into his own brain.

That's right, it literally means "inserted into the brain".

His fingers pierced through his temples, the tips penetrating his skull and probing into his brain tissue, gently and slowly stirring inside, making a sticky, subtle "gurgling" sound.

The sound sent chills down your spine, yet there was no sign of pain on his face, as if the finger wasn't stuck in his own brain, but rather stirring a bowl of cooled soy milk.

It's like seeing a ghost.

I actually let him go.

Ji Zuodao frowned slightly, and his fingers stirred the brain matter faster, as if searching for something.

Who is Ji Zuodao?

He was born into a heretical sect and grew up in the mountains with three masters, learning skills such as murder, arson, ambushes, and sniping.

Although he later cleared his name, joined the 749 Bureau, and became a civil servant, the things in his heart never changed.

If someone touches his things, he always kills them first, regardless of their reasons, background, or predicament—he kills them first, and then has plenty of time to listen to their explanations.

But just now, he actually let Zhu Cheng go.

We just let him go.

They even let him take all those spies away.

This isn't right.

Something's definitely wrong.

Given Ji Zuodao's personality, he would definitely start with a complete scheme of framing and slander.

They could easily frame him, throw him in jail, and then find an opportunity to have Zhu Cheng die "accidentally."

If you're lucky, you might even get a tendon removed or skinned while you're at it, making good use of the waste.

But he didn't.

He did nothing.

They just let them leave like that.

It's like seeing a ghost.

Ji Zuodao's fingers stirred the brain matter even faster, and the skin near his temples bulged slightly, as if a small snake was wriggling inside.

"Stop picking at it, or you'll really go crazy."

A lazy voice came from behind him.

Dog Grandpa strolled out from the corner, his four legs moving at a leisurely pace, his tail swishing casually.

He walked to the window, stood up, put his two front paws on the windowsill, and lay there like a person, tilting his head to watch the departing figures below.

"It's dragon energy."

Dog spoke up, his tone carrying a calm air of "you're making a fuss over nothing."

"Although it's very little and usually useless—compared to the dragon energy on Qiqi, it's like the difference between a spark and a sea of ​​fire. But in crucial moments, it can still influence your thinking."

Ji Zuodao's fingers stopped.

He slowly withdrew his fingers from his temples, a thin strand of clear cerebrospinal fluid trailing from his fingertips, stretching into the air.

He shook his hand, and the liquid fell to the ground with a soft "plop".

That's all.

Dog Lord added, licking his paw, "You've already realized it. Next time, that dragon energy won't work on you."

Ji Zuodao was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed.

"Wow, dragon aura."

"This guy wasn't lying; he really is a descendant of royalty."

He looked down at the box in his hand.

It was the one Zhu Cheng gave him before he left.

The box is small, about the size of a palm, made of sandalwood, with exquisite cloud and dragon patterns carved on the surface. It feels heavy in your hand, and you can tell at a glance that it's not a cheap item.

He lifted the lid, and there was a cup inside.

A Ming Dynasty Chenghua period doucai (enamel overglaze) cup with grape design.

The cup is thin and light, with a lustrous glaze. A bunch of purple grapes is painted on the cup wall, with vines entwined, leaves spread out, and fruits plump and juicy, gleaming with a warm luster under the light.

It's obviously a good item, a genuine piece, the kind that came out of the palace.

Unfortunately, he encountered Ji Zuodao, who didn't know his worth.

Ji Zuodao picked up the cup, looked at it from all angles, and then pursed his lips.

"So this is a descendant of royalty, yet they're so stingy with gifts—just a broken cup without even a lid."

He stuffed the cup back into the box, put the lid on, and tossed it casually onto the table.

"Forget it, let Su Xiaoxiao use it. That way, that little fox won't keep using my cup to drink coffee. It'll be covered in lipstick marks, and I won't even be able to bring myself to drink from it."

For the next few days, Ji Zuodao personally picked up and dropped off Qiqi at school.

Dropping off in the morning and picking up in the evening, rain or shine, without fail.

As for going to work?

Please, you're a section chief now, have you ever seen a section chief who honestly clocks in and out for work?

What is a section chief?

The section chief is the kind of person who thinks, "You all need to work hard when I'm not around, and you need to work even harder when I am."

He sits in his office; that's called being in charge.

When he's not in the office, it's called going out for research.

Either way, they're in the right; their salaries and bonuses will still be paid.