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

Wang Bing lay on the bed in the second-floor bedroom, his face wrapped in gauze like a mummy, with only his eyes and mouth showing.

Actually, he had been awake for a while.

The parents outside were fighting like they were demolishing a house; the noise was so loud, it sounded like someone had detonated a grenade inside.

First the coffee table in the living room broke, then the wall collapsed, and then the floor cracked.

Then came his father's screams, his mother's roars, and the crashing sound of something being smashed, one after another, incessantly, like a string of firecrackers.

The scene was so dramatic that those who knew the situation said it was his mother abusing his father at home, while those who didn't might have thought an action movie was being filmed downstairs.

Even if he were truly dead, the commotion would surely startle him back to life.

Besides, as a Qi cultivator at the Dharma Aspect Realm, his five senses are extremely sharp. Let alone a fight downstairs, he could smell even if someone farted 500 meters away.

Every word of those words went straight into his ears, as if someone were playing them on repeat in his ear through a megaphone; he couldn't help but hear them.

Twins.

A sick child.

The innate essence has been taken away.

It was discarded.

The person who looked exactly like him and peeled off his face was his twin brother.

The reason why Wang Bing has achieved what he has today, why he has become a genius that the Wang family is proud of, and why he has the cultivation talent that countless people envy, is because he has drained the essence of his own brother.

Wang Bing lay on the bed, staring motionless at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling.

His first reaction was not guilt, but jealousy.

Yes, jealousy.

On what grounds?

How come that abandoned, drained of its essence, sick child who should have died in the garbage dump could grow up to be this big?

He even became a Qi cultivator at the Divine Power Realm?

And he even became the section chief of Bureau 749?

He also won the championship in the martial arts competition of the 749 Grand Martial Arts Tournament.

Wang Bing, the eldest grandson of the Wang family, a prodigy destined for greatness, a child born with a silver spoon in his mouth, had his arm broken by a single punch from that sickly boy's underling, and was then humiliated on the ground.

On what grounds?

This is not fair.

It felt like a fire was burning in Wang Bing's heart.

The fire burned so intensely that his internal organs ached, his whole body ached, and he wanted to smash things, curse people, rush up to Ji Zuodao, grab him by the collar, and ask him: What right do you have?

He is the most outstanding one in the Wang family.

He is the genius who should be admired, envied, and praised by everyone.

From childhood to adulthood, he has always been the center of attention.

At the family gathering, the elders surrounded him, praising his extraordinary talent, his boundless future, and that he was the future hope of the Wang family. Among his peers, no one could compare to him.

He was the one standing on the mountaintop, looking down at the masses below, enjoying the exhilarating feeling of being on top of the world.

But now?

There's someone even better than him now.

Moreover, that person was his twin brother, whose essence he had drained and who had everything he had taken away.

A sense of panic welled up in Wang Bing's heart.

The panic was like a cold hand, gripping his heart tightly, tighter and tighter, making it hard for him to breathe.

He was afraid, afraid that Ji Zuodao would take everything away from him.

His parents' love, family resources, elders' expectations, and all the glory and honor that belonged to him would be taken away by that suddenly appearing twin brother.

He felt that his mother had completely sided with that Ji Zuodao.

When she called him "my son," her tone was filled with pride and joy.

And what about him? What is he?

What does he, the king, mean to her?

Wang Bing became increasingly frightened and panicked the more he thought about it.

He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground beneath his feet was crumbling little by little, and he could only watch helplessly as he fell, unable to do anything about it.

That feeling of powerlessness, that feeling of being out of control, almost drove him crazy.

He wanted to shout, to yell, to scream out all the fear and insecurity in his heart.

But when he opened his mouth, he found that his throat was blocked by something and he couldn't make a sound.

Wang Bing could only lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the negative emotions churning, fermenting, and swelling in his heart, like a time bomb that could explode at any moment.

Finally, all the jealousy and fear coalesced into a single thought, a thought tinged with intense hatred—

Why didn't Ji Zuodao just die back then?

If Ji Zuodao had died, none of this mess would have happened today.

If Ji Zuodao dies, he will still be the only genius of the Wang family, the immortal child admired by everyone, and Wang Bing who can enjoy all the resources without any guilt.

If Ji Zuodao were dead, his mother wouldn't look at another person with that kind of gaze, nor would she call another person "son" in that kind of tone.

If Ji Zuodao were dead, that would be wonderful.

Wang Bing closed his eyes, burying those malicious words deep in his heart.

On the Wang family's side, Zhao Ya and Wang Gang were studying Ji Zuodao's information, while Wang Bing lay in bed filled with hatred and jealousy.

Little did they know, at the same time, in the office of the Demon Management Section of the 749th Bureau of Jinghai, Ji Zuodao was not idle either.

He was also researching.

Investigate the Wang family's records.

As a section-level cadre in Bureau 749, Ji Zuodao wielded an unusually high level of authority, an alarmingly high level.

If you need any information, just tell the intelligence department, and it will be delivered to his desk within ten minutes.

If Ji Zuodao wanted, the intelligence department could send him all the information from the Wang family back eighteen generations.

Don't be surprised, during every census, no one thinks that Qi cultivators will be missed, right?

The Han Dynasty's control over the cultivation world became stricter year by year.

Where you live, how many people are in your family, their cultivation level, what industry they work in, their annual income, and whether they have a criminal record—all of this is remembered for you clearly and thoroughly, even more clearly than you remember yourself.

Those aristocratic families and sects, on the surface, are infinitely glorious, seemingly detached from worldly affairs and not subject to worldly control.

But in reality? Bureau 749 knows exactly what color their underwear is.

They just don't bother with you usually. As long as you don't go too far, everyone can save face.

But once you commit a crime and cross the line, you'll need to be investigated.

Then I'm sorry, Bureau 749 can dig up your ancestors for eighteen generations, even your great-grandfather's story of peeping at the widow next door taking a bath.

Ji Zuodao was sitting at his desk, legs crossed, holding a thick stack of documents, reading them with great interest.

His desk was piled high with various documents.

Paper materials, printed photos, and several sealed bags full of data USB drives were scattered haphazardly on the table, like an intelligence exhibition.

The cup of tea on the table had long since gone cold, but he didn't bother to take a sip because his entire attention was drawn to the documents.

"Oh my goodness..."

Ji Zuodao's eyes gleamed as he looked at the documents in his hand.

As he rummaged through it, he made clicking, approving noises, his expression like that of a stray cat that hadn't eaten for three days suddenly spotting a fresh salted fish.

"How come the Wang family is so rich?"