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

Wang Gang's expression changed repeatedly after hearing this.

He's a smart man; he knows what it means to be "not to be trifled with."

Putting everything else aside, just one glance from that young man sent chills down his spine.

He had only ever felt that kind of oppressive feeling from his own father.

This kind of person is definitely not someone the Wang family can afford to offend.

He quickly pulled his wife back, forcing a smile that carried three parts politeness, three parts ingratiatingness, and four parts eagerness to say, "Let's go now."

"No, no, we were just asking out of curiosity. That section chief looks so much like our son, so we were curious and asked him a couple of questions. We didn't mean anything by it, we didn't mean anything by it."

As he spoke, he pulled Zhao Ya forward, wanting to end the conversation quickly.

But Li Shuwen suddenly stopped, turned around, and his expression turned unfriendly:

"Wait, what did you say? Looks like my boss?"

"So that hothead who overturned my stall was your son?"

"Damn it, pay up!"

Li Shuwen's heart was bleeding.

This morning, that hothead Wang Bing destroyed a whole pile of his notebooks, hundreds of them!

That was drawn by him stroke by stroke, not some cheap, mass-produced print.

Every page, every line, every color is a crystallization of his hard work.

He sells high-end goods; each notebook is imbued with his literary and magical powers, the kind that can play short films.

When you turn a page, the scene comes alive; the characters move, the plot unfolds, and it's like watching a blockbuster movie, making you feel like you're right there.

Printed goods don't have that effect.

Otherwise, he wouldn't dare sell it for ten spirit stones a book.

Are ten spirit stones expensive?

It may sound a bit expensive at first, but think about it: a notebook that can play movies anytime, anywhere, and you can watch them repeatedly without limit. The price-performance ratio is simply a bargain!

And what happened? That hothead ruined it all!

Li Shuwen's heart bled whenever he thought of that scene.

No, you have to pay compensation! Even if your son looks like the eldest son, you still have to pay compensation!

Just as he was about to offer a price, a sudden inspiration flashed through his mind.

and many more.

He stopped, squinted, and looked Wang Gang and Zhao Ya up and down.

"Isn't your son's face fake? Otherwise, how could he look so much like my eldest son? They can't possibly be related, can they?"

"Bullshit! What do you mean it's fake!"

Upon hearing this, Zhao Ya immediately flew into a rage.

"My son is just naturally handsome! He was born this way! That brat just happens to have the same handsome face as my son, there's no such thing as a distant relative."

She looked disgusted, as if she had swallowed a fly.

If that scoundrel who tricked her out of her pills and called her "auntie" is related to her family, how will she ever be able to hold her head high in Shanghai's elite circles? Wouldn't she be laughed at?

Zhao Ya looked disgusted, but Wang Gang's expression was a bit strange.

How should I put it? It was a very unnatural stiffness.

His eyes darted away, avoiding Li Shuwen's gaze. A forced smile hung on his lips, a smile that looked fake, even faker than the three plastic smiley faces you can buy for ten yuan at a roadside stall.

"It's just a coincidence, just a coincidence. There are plenty of people in the world who look alike, it's nothing special, nothing special."

Wang Gang echoed Zhao Ya, his voice carrying a barely perceptible urgency.

Li Shuwen narrowed his eyes.

He didn't say anything more.

He turned around and continued leading the way.

He decided not to seek compensation.

Ji Zuodao just came out from the prison cell, and his expression was like that of a weasel that had just stolen a chicken, all smug and pleased with himself.

Based on his understanding of the boss, that kid had probably already been dealt with badly enough.

Consider that compensation as money for his medical expenses.

Li Shuwen may not be good at much else, but he's quite good at judging people.

This couple, especially the father, are definitely hiding something.

As he walked, he thought to himself that he would have to talk to the boss about this later.

Meanwhile, Ji Zuodao had already returned to his office.

He sat down in his office chair, which creaked as if protesting his increasingly heavy weight.

Of course, it's also possible that the weight of the pills and magical artifacts in his pocket was too heavy.

He propped his feet up on the table, leaned back, and sank into the chair, feeling incredibly comfortable.

I just watched the excitement this time, and it turned out to be quite rewarding.

First, I received a lifelike painted skin. The feel and texture were just like real leather, without any ambiguity.

Then he ran into a rich scoundrel who kept stuffing pills into his mouth, and he couldn't stop him. It was as if he was about to give him his entire fortune.

It's so beautiful, so beautiful.

I wish this kind of good thing happened every day.

Then why would Ji Zuodao even go to work? He could just squat in the corridor every day and wait for people to mistake his son for someone else.

After a year, let alone a large apartment, you could buy half a street in Wangfujing.

He took the painted mask out of his pocket, held it in his hand, walked to the window, and carefully examined it in the midday sunlight.

Sunlight streamed through the glass window, casting a translucent glow on her face, which was as thin as a cicada's wing.

The texture of the skin, the distribution of the pores, the direction of the blood vessels—everything is clearly visible, just like real skin. You can even see the fine hairs.

Wow, amazing! Look at those veins, those pores, that color—it's perfect.

The craftsmanship and technique are simply amazing.

The entire face is seamless, without any flaws, as if it were a perfectly formed skin from birth.

Ji Zuodao became more and more satisfied with the thing, and liked it more and more. He would have to study it carefully later to see how it was made.

If he could learn this skill, he could become whoever he wanted and impersonate whoever he wanted. Wouldn't that be wonderful?

He suddenly thought of that pervert in the prison cell.

Damn it, what kind of class is this, daring to wear a face exactly like his?

His face is unique in the world, a high-quality asset that has been tested by the market. How could it be so easily pirated by a pervert?

Pah! Where's your face?

"Where's your face? Son, where's your face?"

In the prison cell.

Zhao Ya stared in disbelief at Wang Bing's bloodied and mangled face.

Her son, her proudest son, the son who had been called the pride of heaven since childhood, was now huddled in a corner of the prison cell.

His face was covered in blood, the skin was gone, revealing bright red muscle tissue and a pale yellow layer of fat underneath.

The scene was like a skinned rabbit hanging on a hook in a market—both pitiful and disgusting.

Zhao Ya's pupils contracted sharply.

Then, her eyes rolled back, her body went limp, and she collapsed directly into Wang Gang's arms.