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

Li Shuwen felt wronged? Coincidentally, Wang Bing also felt wronged.

He, Wang Bing, the eldest grandson of the Wang family, a chosen one of heaven, a child of immortality, someone who began cultivating from the womb.

This trip was to accompany my parents to Jinghai to visit an elder and to relax.

When he had nothing to do, he would go to the Qi Refining Market in Jinghai for a stroll.

Ha, there's nothing good here. It's a small place after all, far inferior to Shanghai.

Wang Bing felt a little disdainful.

The market for Qi practitioners in Shanghai was incredibly bustling.

A dazzling array of rare materials, high-level magical artifacts, and ancient manuals are available.

I wandered around Jinghai for ages and all I found were cheap junk and not a single decent stall.

He was just about to go back when he suddenly noticed a stall in front of him that was extremely popular.

It was packed with people, three layers deep, like a subway station during rush hour.

The people in line were men and women, young and old, all craning their necks and standing on tiptoe to peer inside, their eyes like those of stray cats that hadn't eaten for three days and three nights seeing a can of food.

What are you selling?

Wang Bing became interested.

It looks like a book.

He used his cultivation level to squeeze in.

He charged around recklessly, shoving and pushing, clearing away everyone who was in his way.

Some people were dissatisfied and turned around to say something, but when they saw his face, they swallowed the curses they were about to utter and silently made way for him.

Wang Bing successfully squeezed his way to the front of the stall.

Then he saw the pile of books on the stall.

Each book's cover features a half-body portrait.

The bust was majestic and imposing, with an air of arrogance that seemed to look down upon the world.

The painting is incredibly vivid; even the reflections on the skin are depicted, with every detail rendered with exquisite realism.

Wang Bing stared blankly at the half-length portrait on the cover.

Isn't that him?

He blinked and looked at it carefully again.

Yes, it's him.

Those eyebrows, those eyes, that nose, that mouth, that expression, that energy—it was clearly Wang Bing himself.

Could it be that my fame has spread all the way to Jinghai? Are people already erecting monuments and writing biographies for me?

Thinking about this, he felt a little proud.

Indeed, who is Wang Bing?

The eldest grandson of the Wang family, a prodigy with the destiny of a celestial child, is an outstanding figure among the younger generation and a future overlord of Shanghai.

It is only natural that someone would write books about him.

He picked up a book at random and turned to a page.

Then, he froze.

His hands were trembling.

On that page, he was bound hand and foot in an extremely humiliating manner, his clothes half-undone, his hair disheveled, his peach blossom eyes filled with defiance, and a trace of blood still hanging from the corner of his mouth.

The imagery, the composition, the lighting, the details…

The painting skills are indeed exquisite and impeccable.

But this content...

Wang Bing's temples began to throb.

He continued flipping through the pages.

One appalling scene after another came into view.

He is the protagonist of every single painting.

He was tied up, he was suspended, he was pressed down, he was squeezed, he was tormented in all sorts of strange and bizarre positions.

In every painting, he is at a complete disadvantage, being bullied by various unknown opponents. His expression and posture are so humiliating and miserable.

Wang Bing felt his blood pressure rising at a visible rate.

Damn it, this is outrageous!

The local gangs are so rude!

Isn't this tarnishing his reputation? If people who know him see this, how will he live?

He immediately lost his temper.

"You fucking bastard!"

He slammed the book down on the stall, glaring at the owner sitting behind him, his eyes practically spitting fire.

The boss looked to be about the same age as him, but he was at the Heavenly Spirit Palace Realm. He could easily defeat him in a fight.

Do you really think that everyone is born with the destiny of a celestial child and has cultivated their Dharma form at a young age?

His parents said that someone as talented as him probably wouldn't even get 749 games.

Sure enough, the shopkeeper turned pale when he saw his expression, turned around and ran away, abandoning his stall.

See? They know Wang Bing's name and are feeling guilty.

Wang Bing sneered, took a step forward, and slapped the boss on the back of the head.

He didn't use his full strength; after all, he just wanted to teach them a lesson. A concussion would be enough, to teach them a lesson they wouldn't want to learn, and to let them know that some people are not to be trifled with.

The slap landed squarely on the back of the boss's head.

A crisp "snap" sounded.

The shopkeeper stopped in his tracks.

He slowly turned his head to look at Wang Bing, his eyes filled with confusion, bewilderment, and uncertainty.

Wang Bing was also stunned.

Huh? Why isn't this person dizzy? Did I go too lightly?

As he was pondering this, he saw the boss scan him up and down with a look that, how should I put it, was like someone picking out pork at a market, with a scrutinizing and evaluative air.

It's as if they're saying—that's all?

Wang Bing felt uneasy under that gaze, and a nameless anger welled up inside him.

Ha, it was just luck that blocked one of my attacks.

He clenched his fist, ready to strike again.

This time, he used all his strength.

The boss raised his hand and blocked a few times.

The more he tried to stop him, the stranger the boss's expression became, and the more peculiar the look in his eyes became.

Until the boss seemed to have confirmed something, his face suddenly darkened.

"Damn! It was a fake all along!"

Then I heard the boss curse, and then he pulled out a book from his waist. The cover of the book had three big characters written on it: "Ji Ping Mei".

Wang Bing glanced at the title of the book, wondering to himself, "What is this thing?"

Then the boss shouted, "What kind of person do you think you are, daring to impersonate my boss? Summoning my boss to fight you is an insult to him! Come on, let me show you some of my boss's style!"

Before the shopkeeper finished speaking, a stream of light emerged from the book in his hand and entered his body.

Then, the boss shook his head and shouted, "Please let Master Ji possess you!"

Wang Bing was completely stunned.

No, what kind of thing did you invite?

Before he could even complain, the boss made his move.

That speed was ridiculously fast.

Wang Bing only felt a blur before his eyes, and a fist was already in front of him.

He instinctively raised his hand to block.

A crisp "snap" sounded.

His arm was broken.

Wang Bing stared wide-eyed at his arm hanging down at an odd angle, his mind blank.

Before he could react, the second punch arrived.

The punch landed on his chest.

Wang Bing felt a tightness in his chest, and then, like a kite with a broken string, he flew out, crashed heavily to the ground, and slid several meters away.

They were completely helpless throughout the entire process.

Because my hand was interrupted at the very beginning.

If you can't form the hand seals, you can't even manifest the Dharma form.

He could only watch helplessly as the boss rushed over, straddled him, and started punching him repeatedly.

The shop owner yelled and punched, "You dare impersonate my boss! You dare wreck my stall! What kind of person are you to dare pretend to be a Taoist priest?!"

"I didn't... I wasn't impersonating..."

Wang tried to explain, but the boss didn't give him a chance and punched him in the face again.

"Still denying it? Your face is proof enough!"

"I...I've always looked like this..."

"Bullshit! My boss's face is one of a kind in the world! You think you're worthy?"

Wang Bing was almost in tears.

What Taoist priest? He doesn't know him!

He had never been to Jinghai since he was a child, and he didn't know any Taoist priests!

His face is a gift from his parents, it's his natural face, how can it be considered an imposter?

Finally, the boss finished beating, stood up, panting heavily, looking like he was saying, "I'm finally satisfied."

Wang Bing lay on the ground, feeling as if his whole body was falling apart, and he didn't even have the strength to move a finger.

He thought to himself, "Is it finally over?"

Then he saw the boss take off his coat.

Underneath the jacket was a uniform.

The uniform of a Bureau 749 investigator.

Wang Bing's eyes widened instantly.

"You've attacked the investigator from Bureau 749. Come on over."

The boss squatted down, patted his face, and said in a tone that said, "You're in trouble."

Wang Bing really cried this time.

Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

Who among the 749 investigators would sell lewd images in the Qi Practitioner Market?!

Was he wronged or not?

He was more wronged than Dou E!