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

Zhu Cheng is now truly desperate.

That inner demon, Zhu Cheng, was practically a mind reader.

All the tactics and ideas in his mind were dug up by this guy, and he used them on him one move after another.

The worst part is that this bastard is truly shameless.

Those underhanded tricks—

It's the kind of trick that everyone knows, but no one expected that someone would actually be shameless enough to use it.

This guy used it.

He used it so smoothly and naturally, as if it were as easy as eating or drinking, without any psychological burden.

Zhu Cheng stood at a distance, watching his inner demon leap and bound across the battlefield, employing all sorts of underhanded and malicious tactics, commanding the inner demon's Ming army to defeat the golden-armored Ming army in a disorienting manner.

Dude, you're my inner demon, you should at least have some self-respect, right?

Those tricks, I might as well just think about them, but you actually dare to use them?

Do you know what propriety, righteousness, integrity, and a sense of shame are? What is the conduct of a gentleman? What is the dignity of royalty?

He looked at the face of his inner demon, Zhu Cheng, which was exactly like his own, wearing a smug smile that conveyed a sense of exhilaration, as if saying, "I can finally let myself go." A sudden, absurd thought surged into his mind—

The feeling was like seeing someone who looked exactly like you running naked down the street.

He even shouted "Come and chase me!" as he ran.

The world is going to the dogs; people's hearts are no longer what they used to be.

Zhu Cheng closed his eyes in heartache.

But he quickly lost interest in the heartache.

Because above, the sky was emitting increasingly dense and crisp sounds.

"Crackling sound—cracking sound—"

The sound was like firecrackers going off during the Lunar New Year, one after another, each one more frequent and louder than the last.

Zhu Cheng raised his head and looked at the cracked sky, watching those cracks expand, spread, and intertwine at a speed visible to the naked eye.

He felt his heart sinking, little by little.

This Ming Dynasty Secret Realm has a self-repairing function.

It's like a living organism; when it's injured, it will automatically heal, repair, and recover.

But the prerequisite is—you have to give it time!

You need to make that thing that crashed in go back in before it can start repairing!

But now?

Instead of shrinking back, people are still desperately pushing their way into Tiananmen Square!

For every inch it squeezes inward, the crack in the sky widens by a foot; for every foot it squeezes inward, the crack in the sky widens by ten feet.

As one thing rises while another falls, as one thing advances while another retreats, the crack in the sky grows ever larger.

It can't be closed, it simply can't be closed, the secret realm is about to be ruined.

Zhu Cheng looked at the increasingly large crack. If this continued, his secret realm would be destroyed in less than half an hour.

Oh shit.

He cursed inwardly.

What the hell is going on here?

He had meticulously prepared for so long, laid out plans for so long, and was about to succeed when suddenly a Cheng Yaojin appeared out of nowhere—a Cheng Yaojin who brought Tiananmen Square and the Great Wall with him.

This script is wrong!

He had looked up information about Ji Zuodao.

The head of the Demon Management Section, with the cultivation level of the Dharma Aspect Realm, has a group of demon subordinates and keeps a black dog.

The information didn't mention that he had a brother!

And it's bizarre!

Is this fucking reasonable?

How could a heretical cultivator, a section chief of the 749 Bureau, and a civil servant within the system have a strange brother?

Isn't this crossbreeding?

Zhu Cheng felt that his outlook on life had been severely impacted.

But he doesn't have time to dwell on these issues now.

He has to make a choice.

He raised his head and looked at the golden dragon of fortune that was circling above the Forbidden City.

The golden dragon traversed the clouds, sometimes revealing half of its body, and sometimes disappearing into the mist.

The golden scales shimmered brilliantly in the twilight, as if forged from the purest gold.

Its eyes were two burning golden flames, leaping and flickering in the twilight, radiating a chilling pressure.

That was the dragon energy accumulated by the Zhu family lineage generation after generation.

Centuries of effort have been poured into this dragon.

He himself contributed half of the dragon energy into it.

That incident nearly cost him his life.

If this dragon is used, without the support of dragon energy, this secret realm will not last long before turning to ashes.

The hard work of several generations was reduced to ashes.

But what if we don't use it...

He glanced at Tiananmen Square, where people were desperately trying to squeeze in; he looked at the eerie buildings pouring in through the cracks; he looked at the golden-armored Ming soldiers being overwhelmed by the Ming army of inner demons…

If it's not used, this secret realm will also be lost.

Since death is inevitable either way, might as well take a gamble.

Zhu Cheng gritted his teeth, a resolute glint flashing in his eyes.

He raised the jade seal in his hand and poured all his spiritual power into it.

The jade seal emitted a dazzling white light, like a small sun, illuminating the entire twilight.

Then he spoke, his voice rising abruptly in the twilight, carrying a resolute air of desperation:

"Golden Dragon of Fortune - Disperse!"

His voice echoed across the empty Forbidden City like rolling thunder, carrying far and wide.

In the sky, the golden dragon of fortune stopped circling.

It lowered its head, its golden eyes looking at Zhu Cheng.

Then, it opened its enormous mouth and let out a deafening roar—

"roar--!!!"

The roar was like a thousand thunderclaps, shaking the Forbidden City.

The entire Forbidden City was shaking violently, and tiles from the eaves of the palaces were falling off and shattering on the ground.

The cracks in the palace walls spread out like a spider web, climbing from the base to the top.

Then, the golden dragon exploded.

It didn't explode like an explosion, but rather bloomed like a golden firework in the night sky.

Countless golden points of light erupted from its body, raining down from the sky like a torrential downpour, sprinkling every corner of the Forbidden City.

That golden rain was not ordinary water droplets, but the essence condensed from the purest dragon energy.

Every drop contains immense energy, and every drop radiates a warm glow.

The golden rain fell on the golden-armored Ming soldiers, like a long-awaited rain after a drought, and their cultivation levels began to rise steadily.

The Ming soldiers in golden armor felt the surging power within them, and as if they had been injected with chicken blood, they let out bursts of excited roars.

Their eyes were shining, their morale was soaring, and their fighting spirit was boiling.

On the other hand, consider the Ming army's inner demons—

The golden rain fell on them, making a "sizzling" sound, like water droplets falling on a red-hot iron plate, evaporating instantly.

Where the demonic Ming soldiers were drenched by the golden rain, black smoke began to rise, as if they had been corroded.

Their cultivation levels began to decline.

Although the decline was not significant, it did indeed decrease.

Moreover, their morale began to decline.

They used to charge forward with great enthusiasm, but now they're all listless and droopy, looking like they've caught chicken plague.

With this shift in momentum, the situation instantly reversed.

The Ming army in golden armor launched a counterattack.

They surged towards the Demonic Ming Army like a tidal wave, brandishing halberds and drawing swords, causing the Demonic Ming Army to retreat in disarray.

In the sky, the golden general phantoms seemed to have been injected with adrenaline, becoming more solid, taller, and more majestic.

They brandished their halberds and launched a fierce attack on the several black general phantoms.

With a single strike, the arm of the black general's phantom was severed, turning into black mist and dissipating.

With another halberd strike, the black general's phantom chest was pierced, leaving a huge hole.

With another halberd strike, the head of the black general's phantom was cleaved open, and the entire phantom collapsed with a deafening roar.

The Ming army, clad in golden armor, advanced with unstoppable momentum.

The inner demons, like an army, were utterly routed.