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

Although Zhao Ya is a naive and innocent girl, she is not stupid.

Every woman who can thrive in Shanghai's elite circles is a shrewd and capable individual.

She's just too lazy to use her brain, not that she doesn't have one.

If someone suddenly appears who looks exactly like your son, anyone would be suspicious.

Most importantly, when the investigator named Li Shuwen asked that rascal if he was related to their family, her husband's reaction was problematic, very problematic.

Although she was so angry at the time that she didn't think things through, now that she's calmed down and recalled the events, she realizes something is wrong.

Wang Gang's expression at the time was too stiff and unnatural.

The shifty eyes, the twitching lips, the hurried tone—all clearly signs of a guilty conscience.

Women possess intelligence and skills comparable to Sherlock Holmes when it comes to detecting whether their husbands are lying.

This is a unique talent skill belonging to women, an instinct engraved in their genes, and a superpower evolved through thousands of years of wits and courage in the struggle against men.

Just like now, Zhao Ya listened to Wang Gang's heartbeat, which had been erratic for a few seconds, and realized that the case had been solved.

Her heartbeat was steady and rhythmic, like a pendulum, before she uttered those words.

But when she said those words, her heartbeat instantly became erratic.

Although it only lasted a few seconds, for a woman who had been focusing all her attention on listening to her heartbeat, those few seconds of erratic movement were enough to tell a story.

That bastard is hiding something from her.

"Honey, are you hiding something from me?"

Zhao Ya's voice sounded pitiful, her eyes were red, and tears were hanging on her eyelashes. She looked like a kitten that had been soaked by the rain, which made people feel sorry for her.

But Wang Gang felt a chill creep down his spine for no apparent reason.

The chill rose from the base of his spine, climbed up his spine, past the back of his head, and to the top of his head, making him shudder.

This made him take a step back.

He had barely taken a step back when he realized something was wrong.

Damn it, doesn't this make him look guilty?

As expected, Zhao Ya's face turned completely cold.

That face, which was just moments ago streaked with tears, changed instantly, just like the weather in June—it could turn on you in an instant, without any transition.

"Wang Gang".

Zhao Ya spoke, her voice eerily calm, devoid of any emotion, like the stillness before a storm, so oppressive it was suffocating.

"I'll count to three."

Upon hearing this, Wang Gang immediately raised both hands above his head.

His movements were so practiced, as if he had practiced them hundreds of times.

"Honey! It's true! I really haven't hidden anything from you! Really! You have to believe me!"

His voice carried an almost pleading sincerity, as if he were about to squeeze out two tears to prove his innocence.

"three!"

Zhao Ya ignored her husband's explanation.

She stretched out her slender hands and slowly and deliberately put her long hair up, quickly tying it into a neat bun at the back of her head.

Then, she tore off the hem of her dress, and the sound of the fabric tearing was particularly crisp in the quiet living room.

The originally dignified and elegant cheongsam was instantly transformed into a high-slit style, revealing a long, slender, snow-white leg.

"No! Stop counting! I'm sorry! Okay? I'm sorry, okay?"

Wang Gang was getting a little anxious, and sweat began to bead on his forehead.

His wife is perfect in every way: beautiful, from a good family, good at managing the household, and good to him.

I just love counting.

It seems that every woman from Sichuan and Chongqing likes to count.

I have no idea who invented this problem; it's absolutely driving me crazy.

"two!"

Zhao Ya kicked off her high heels, one on each side, and the two shoes flew off.

One slammed against the wall with a thud, while the other flew under the sofa and disappeared.

She walked barefoot on the cool marble floor, her ten toes as round and white as pearls, their black and white contrasting sharply against the dark stone.

She slightly bent over, lowered her center of gravity, and clenched her fists, holding them in front of and behind her to protect herself.

His stance and posture clearly indicate he's a trained martial artist.

"Wife! I did it all for Bing'er—"

Wang Gang hadn't finished speaking.

The next second, a smooth, delicate fist slammed into his face.

That fist looked white and tender, slender and long, like a work of art, as if it would break at the slightest touch.

But when it hit my face, it felt like being hit head-on by a speeding dump truck.

Wang Gang felt a sudden darkness before his eyes, a buzzing sound in his head, and he was sent flying backward like a kite with a broken string.

His body traced a graceful parabola through the air before crashing with a loud bang onto the expensive mahogany coffee table in the center of the living room.

That coffee table was made of solid materials and had exquisite workmanship; Wang Gang had bought it back from an auction for nearly a million yuan.

At that moment, however, it was smashed to pieces by Wang Gang's body.

Wood chips flew everywhere, and glass shards scattered all over the place, creating a clattering sound that echoed through the quiet living room.

Wang Gang lay in the pile of rubble, feeling his internal organs churning and seeing stars before his eyes, as if he had just watched a fireworks display.

Before he could even catch his breath, Zhao Ya had already rushed in front of him.

That speed was ridiculously fast.

They were just standing two or three meters away a moment ago, but in the blink of an eye, they were right in front of him.

She grabbed Wang Gang by the collar, and her slender arm, which was surprisingly strong, lifted him off the ground with a single arm.

The scene was visually striking.

A beautiful woman who looked delicate and frail, as if she could be blown away by the wind, effortlessly lifted a man who was half a head taller than her with one hand, as if he were a little chick.

Wang Gang was lifted into the air, his feet off the ground, and her collar was choking him, making it hard for him to breathe.

His face flushed red, and he instinctively grabbed Zhao Ya's wrists, trying to pry her fingers open, but they were like iron clamps, not moving an inch.

I'll ask you one more time.

Zhao Ya's voice was cold, calm, and without a trace of emotion.

Her gaze was terrifyingly cold, like two knives piercing straight into Wang Gang's eyes.

"What are you hiding from me?"

Her face was very close, so close that Wang Gang could clearly see the bloodshot in her eyes and feel the hot breath she was exhaling on his face.

The heat was clearly warm, but Wang Gang felt as if he had been licked by the tongue of a venomous snake, and the hairs on his body stood on end.

"Wife...I...I really..."

Wang Gang still wanted to be stubborn.

Zhao Ya did not give him another chance to speak.

She released her grip on his collar, and Wang Gang's body fell downwards.

Just as his feet were about to touch the ground, Zhao Ya's knee had already struck him.

The knee struck Wang Gang's abdomen with perfect precision.

"Ugh—!"

Wang Gang's eyes widened instantly, his eyeballs almost popping out of their sockets.

He felt as if his stomach had been hit by a speeding train, churning violently, and he almost vomited bile.

His body was curled up like a shrimp, his mouth wide open, making "ho ho ho" sounds, but he couldn't utter a single word.

Zhao Ya gave him no chance to catch his breath.

She turned to the side and delivered an elbow strike to Wang Gang's back.

The elbow strike was powerful and delivered at a tricky angle, striking the spine in the back with a dull thud.

Wang Gang felt as if his spine was about to break, and he stumbled forward, almost falling.

Before he could regain his balance, Zhao Ya delivered another whip kick, sweeping across his calf.

The whip kick was fast and fierce, whistling through the air, and landed squarely on Wang Gang's calf.

Wang Gang felt a numbness in his calf, and then his entire leg went numb. He could no longer support his body weight and fell to his knees with a thud.

From the moment Zhao Ya threw the punch to the moment Wang Gang knelt down, only a few seconds passed.

A series of moves, executed smoothly and cleanly, without the slightest hesitation.

After finishing the fight, Zhao Ya took a step back, readjusted her stance, and coldly looked at Wang Gang kneeling on the ground.

That look in his eyes was like looking at a stranger; it was devoid of any warmth.

"Wang Gang, you should know my temper."

She spoke, her voice still calm, a calmness that was frightening.

"Now that I've started, I'm not going to back down easily. If you don't explain yourself clearly, we'll stay here tonight. I'll beat you until you talk."

"Don't worry, I'll know my limits. I won't kill you, at most I'll leave you bedridden for a few months."