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

Wang Bing's howl was like a pig being slaughtered; his voice was so shrill that even Ji Zuodao was startled and immediately let go of his hand.

No, is it really necessary?

Isn't all he wanted this guy's mask? Why does it feel like he's going to skin him alive?

Ji Zuodao looked at Wang Bing, who was taking the opportunity to retreat and struggling frantically on the ground, with a look of disgust, as if he were looking at a miser.

"Are you trying to be stingy? I just borrowed it to study it, it's not like I'm not going to return it!"

"Besides, what I'm doing is perfectly legal and compliant. As a 749 investigator, I have the right to confiscate all your belongings! If you push me too far, I'll strip you naked, not just your mask!"

Wang Bing stared at Ji Zuodao in horror, struggling incessantly, but unfortunately he was bound too tightly, the hemp rope wrapped from his shoulders to his ankles, in neat rows and columns.

He could only wriggle around like a maggot, trying to stay as far away from Ji Zuodao as possible. His posture and movements looked both comical and pitiful.

What is this guy saying?

Is it reasonable, legal, and compliant?

When did skinning someone else's skin become reasonable, legal, and compliant?

In all his years of life, he has never heard of any law that allows skinning someone to be reasonable, legal, or compliant!

Damn it, am I still in the Han Dynasty?

They delivered it to my northern Myanmar industrial park so quickly?

Are these people planning to skin him alive first, then sell him abroad to harvest his organs?

Wang Bing became increasingly frightened, and struggled even more fiercely, making "woo woo woo" sounds, with tears welling up in his eyes.

He twisted and turned desperately, trying to break free of the ropes.

But Li Shuwen's binding technique was so professional that the more he struggled, the tighter the rope became.

Finally, the tightness made his bones creak and groan, causing him to grimace in pain, yet also bringing a strange sense of pleasure.

Ji Zuodao frowned impatiently at his appearance.

He stepped forward and stomped on Wang Bing, who was still wriggling incessantly, pinning him firmly to the ground.

Wang Bing was pinned down by his foot, his whole body lying on the ground, his face pressed against the cold ground, feeling the weight and warmth of the foot that was stepping on his back.

The ground was cement, very rough, and it hurt his face.

He tried to lift his head, but Ji Zuodao's feet were like a small mountain pressing down on his back, and he couldn't lift his head at all.

"Run? Where can you run to?"

Ji Zuodao bent down, pinched Wang Bing's face, and pressed it against the edge of Wang Bing's jawbone, feeling the texture and elasticity of that skin.

Hmm, it feels nice to the touch, like fine silk, smooth and silky.

I don't know what material it's made of; I'll have to take a closer look once I take it down.

"Just hand over the mask obediently. Don't worry, it'll be quick, just tear it off..."

As he spoke, he exerted force with his hands, preparing to tear off that mask.

Then, his movements stopped.

"Um?"

He tore it again.

It still couldn't be torn open.

"Tear it apart...tear it apart..."

He tried it again.

Not moving.

"Damn it, why can't I tear it?"

Ji Zuodao stared wide-eyed at Wang Bing's face, his expression filled with confusion and bewilderment.

He pinched Wang Bing's face and tugged at it a few times, but the skin seemed to be stuck to Wang Bing's face and he couldn't pull it off no matter how hard he tried.

He tried a different angle, starting to tear from behind the ear, but still couldn't tear it off.

I started tearing again from the hairline, but I still couldn't tear it off.

"What the hell did you use to stick it up there? Super glue? Or something else?"

Ji Zuodao was a little confused.

The painted skin, in the end, is just a mask. It can be peeled off easily, like peeling off a face mask.

But why can't I tear off the "painted skin" on this guy's face?

Is it a new process? An upgraded version? An enhanced version?

Or did this kid use some new kind of glue?

Ji Zuodao did not believe in evil.

He pinched Wang Bing's face and pulled it upwards with all his might.

The force was astonishing, lifting Wang Bing entirely off the ground.

Wang Bing was lifted into the air, his whole body suspended in mid-air, a tearing pain shooting through his face, making him howl in agony.

It wasn't over yet; Ji Zuodao was still shaking, seemingly trying to shake Wang off his painted mask.

The scene looked like someone was shaking out the stuffing from a human skin; it was incredibly bizarre.

Wang Bing's body swayed in the air, his limbs hanging limply, like a cat being held by the scruff of its neck.

"What the hell are you yelling for? I'm warning you, don't pretend. Taking off your mask is like taking your life."

Ji Zuodao shook it off while cursing impatiently.

He shook it a few times, but seeing that he still couldn't tear it off, he changed his posture, grabbing Wang Bing's face with one hand and pressing down on Wang Bing's shoulder with the other, exerting force with both hands at the same time, as if he wanted to pull Wang Bing's whole body out of his face.

"Waaah...waaah..."

Wang Bing wanted to say something, but his face was being pulled, and his entire facial skin was stretched to its limit, so he couldn't open his mouth at all.

His lips were ripped out of shape, revealing his gums and teeth.

In this situation, let alone speaking, it's already quite difficult to stop drooling.

His tears streamed down his cheeks, dripping onto the ground and leaving a small, damp patch.

Those tears were tears of pain, but even more so, tears of grievance.

Isn't he wronged? His face is a gift from his parents, something he was born with, so how did it become a mask?

What did he do to deserve this?

How did things come to this?

"I fucking refuse to believe it!"

Ji Zuodao gritted his teeth and decided to use brute force.

Anyway, he didn't necessarily need the complete painted skin; he just wanted to study how it was made and see if he could learn a thing or two.

Good or bad doesn't matter, it's not his anyway.

They tore it up, that's all. They didn't even care that I was upset.

He took a deep breath and suddenly exerted force in his hand—

"Sizzle—!!!"

A sharp, teeth-grinding tearing sound echoed through the cell.

The sound was like tearing open a tough animal hide, with a texture of fibers breaking, which made people feel pain just by listening to it.

He forcibly ripped a face off Wang Bing's face.

The skin on his face was as thin as a cicada's wing, and under the light it had a transparent sheen, with traces of blood and bits of flesh still clinging to it.

Blood gushed from the exposed flesh on Wang Bing's face, flowing down his chin and dripping onto the ground with a "drip-drip" sound.

The scene was bloody and violent, too gruesome to watch.

The king stopped howling.

It's not that I don't want to howl, it's that I really don't have the strength to howl anymore.

He collapsed to the ground, as if all his strength had been drained away; he didn't even have the strength to move a finger.

His face was a bloody mess, the exposed muscle tissue was still trembling slightly, and the blood vessels and nerves were clearly visible.

"Holy crap!"

Ji Zuodao stared wide-eyed at Wang Bing's blood-soaked face, then at the human skin in his hand, stained with blood and bits of flesh, his voice filled with doubt:

"No, where's your face?"

His voice carried a deep-seated confusion.