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

Zhao Ya felt her emotions were like a tidal wave about to burst, almost uncontrollable.

She sat there, looking at Ji Zuodao's face, which looked exactly like her son's, her heart churning with a mix of emotions—sweet, sour, bitter, spicy, and salty.

She had looked at that face for nineteen years—on Wang Bing's face.

But the person sitting opposite her at this moment, with the same eyebrows and the same features, made her feel unfamiliar and heartbroken.

What's unfamiliar is the demeanor; what's heartbreaking is the origin.

She tried to hold back, but in the end she couldn't.

She reached out to take Ji Zuodao's hand.

I can't take it anymore.

She was about to tell Ji Zuodao the truth, to tell him that she was his mother.

Tell him that she didn't mean to abandon him all these years, tell him how much she regrets it, how guilty she feels, and how much she wants to make it up to him.

Ji Zuodao's eyelids twitched.

Holy crap, what is this woman trying to do? Is she about to reveal her identity?!

He'd only just made his move, not even a warm-up, so why was his opponent already unleashing his ultimate move?

That won't do.

According to his plan, now is not the time to acknowledge each other.

The key to reuniting is timing.

Too early. You haven't built up enough leverage yet, and their sense of guilt towards you hasn't reached its maximum. The effect would be like cooking without salt—bland and tasteless, a complete waste of a good opportunity.

It's too late, that won't work either.

Once the other party has mentally prepared themselves, the initiative is no longer in your hands.

You need to get stuck at that middle point, making them feel guilty, heartbroken, and indebted to you, but also afraid to acknowledge you.

The best time to take the initiative will be when that time comes.

At that time, you could name your terms.

But in this situation, it's clear that Zhao Ya couldn't hold back any longer.

No, I have to keep her calm.

The dog lying to the side lazily yawned, its mouth wide open like a washbasin, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth, and a piece of vegetable leaf that it had picked up sometime earlier was still stuck to its tongue.

Then, its voice rang in Ji Zuodao's mind.

"Hey kid, I have something to tell you. My 'Destiny Insight' was forced to operate at full power last time, and now it's a bit broken. I can't see the future anymore, I can only see a little bit of the past. I was just bored and glanced at this woman, and I noticed something interesting."

"What's interesting?"

"This woman's memories were altered when she gave birth to you. She had no idea you existed at the time. The decision to abandon you and remove your innate essence was made by the Wang family, or more precisely, by that old geezer of the Wang family."

"She was kept in the dark the whole time. When she woke up, the baby was gone, and she was told that she had only given birth to one. She held Wang Bing, fed him milk, and watched him grow up day by day, thinking that was everything."

Ji Zuodao was stunned for a fraction of a second.

Then, the string in his heart quietly loosened a little.

He didn't know what that feeling was like.

It was like a stone that had been pressing on my heart, which had been moved open, letting in a sliver of light.

It is very small and faint, but it does exist.

Ji Zuodao lowered his eyes, concealing the emotions that surged within him in that instant.

Tsk.

The worst-case scenario has occurred.

He hates talking about relationships.

Talking about relationships is expensive.

As a heretical cultivator with crooked roots and evil lineage, he has always adhered to one principle—

If a problem can be solved with money, don't use emotions.

Because when it comes to feelings, you can't always keep track of the details.

You owe me, I owe you, we're entangled back and forth, and in the end, no one can really explain it.

But money is different.

Money is very clear.

How much you owe me, how much I should receive, every single amount, clearly and plainly.

But given Zhao Ya's current situation...

She was unaware of the situation, kept in the dark, and was also a victim.

Ugh, this is such a hassle.

After he finishes confiscating the Wang family's property, he can give this woman a share of the ill-gotten gains.

Ji Zuodao silently calculated in his mind and felt that he had lost 100 million.

But he didn't show it on his face at all.

Deep within his eyes, a calculating glint lurked.

But beneath that scheme lay something he himself was unaware of.

Ji Zuodao picked up a piece of osmanthus cake, put it in his mouth, and chewed it slowly, his mind already racing with ideas for the next part of the story.

Ji Zuodao subtly avoided Zhao Ya's outstretched hand, pretending to reach for the food beside him.

The movement was so natural and fluid, as if he had simply wanted to eat the pastry and hadn't noticed Zhao Ya's actions.

He turned his body slightly to the side, just avoiding Zhao Ya's hand that was stretched out in mid-air. Her fingertips barely brushed against his sleeve before falling into nothingness.

The instant he reached out, his sleeve deliberately slid up a bit, revealing a section of his wrist.

More than a dozen scars are clearly visible on his wrist.

Some of those scars have turned white and have blurred edges, looking like old wounds from many years ago;

Some of them still have a faint pink tinge and are slightly raised. They are obviously the result of recent years, crisscrossing and densely packed, like centipedes crawling on the skin. Some are horizontal, some are vertical, and some are diagonal, which is shocking to look at.

The longest one stretched from the inside of the wrist all the way to the middle of the forearm, at least four or five inches long, as if it had been cut open with a knife.

Zhao Ya's gaze was instantly drawn to those scars.

Her heart clenched suddenly.

"Section Chief Ji, how did you get those scars on your hands?"

"Oh, that's it. My master chef likes dissecting human bodies, and he often uses me as practice."

Zhao Ya was stunned.

Her mind went blank, as if it had crashed.

"Dissection... for practice?"

She repeated those words, her voice filled with an incredulous bewilderment.

"Yes, my master is a heretical cultivator; he's particularly interested in human anatomy."

"When I was little, he would often tie me to a table and use a knife to cut here and there, studying the structure of the human body, the direction of the meridians, the distribution of acupoints and such."

"Sometimes after we've finished scraping, we have to peel back the skin to look at the muscle tissue underneath and study the direction of the blood vessels."

As Ji Zuodao spoke, he picked up another piece of pastry, put it in his mouth, chewed it twice, swallowed it, and then added:

"Hey, you know what, ever since then I'm not afraid of pain anymore. I can go through a whole process of having my tendons pulled, my skin peeled, my bones removed, and my flesh ripped off without even blinking."

Zhao Ya felt as if someone was sawing her heart with a rusty saw.

The saw wasn't fast, but every strike saw into the flesh, into the bone, into her softest, most vulnerable spot.

She could even hear the saw scraping back and forth across her heart, a sharp, grating sound, each strike bringing a dull ache.

"That must hurt so much..."

Tears welled up in Zhao Ya's eyes, threatening to spill over.

Ji Zuodao tilted his head, as if he was seriously considering the question.

"It hurt a lot at first. I screamed so hard that my voice became hoarse, and my face was covered in tears and snot. It was like being slaughtered like a pig."

"I got used to it after a while. Anyway, even if I was cut into eight pieces, the master chef could sew me back together. His stitching skills were superb. After he finished, the scars were barely noticeable. Of course, these are the less successful cases, so they were left."

As he spoke, he shook his wrist as if showing off some trophy, as if those scars were some kind of medal to be proud of.

Zhao Ya took a deep breath, trying to make her voice sound as steady as possible:

"Section Chief Ji... didn't you... even think about running away back then?"

"run?"

Ji Zuodao tilted his head, looking puzzled. "Why did I run? This was my own choice."

"Voluntary?"

Zhao Ya's voice rose eight octaves, her face filled with disbelief, "How could anyone volunteer to be dissected?"

Oh no, has my son already been corrupted?

A scene flashed through her mind:

A thin, small child was tied to a cold table, next to which stood a hideous old evil cultivator holding a gleaming scalpel.

The child was laughing and said, "Master, please be gentle."

Zhao Ya shuddered and dared not think any further.

Ji Zuodao's lips curled up slightly, then quickly fell back down.

Hey, that's what I've been waiting for.

Ji-style performance rules, Show Time!

Ji Zuodao lowered his head and remained silent for a few seconds.

When Ji Zuodao raised his head again, he had a faint, tired smile on his face.

That smile was so heartbreaking to see.

It wasn't the kind of excruciating pain, but rather a dull, aching, indescribable sorrow.

It felt like a stone was pressing on my chest, making it hard to breathe, or like something was stuck in my throat, I couldn't swallow it down or spit it out.

This smile is something that some popular celebrities can never achieve in their entire lives.

"Because I want to live."

Ji Zuodao's voice was very soft, as if he were talking about a trivial matter.

"I don't know why, but I've been lacking in my vital essence since childhood; my body is like a huge hole. Without a constant supply of powerful medicine, I'd kick the bucket immediately. But how could a little brat like me, thrown into a trash can, possibly obtain such medicine?"

"Fortunately, my fate is special, and I am of research value to the master. So as long as I obey, he will let me live."

"Surviving isn't shameful. I've had only one goal since I was little—to survive. As I grew a little older, I got smarter. I started looking for rich women to support me. Every time a rich woman would force herself on me, I could get a few decent meals."

"Hey, you know what? Those rich women may have a nasty way of eating, but they're really generous. Every time I serve them well, I not only get to eat my fill, but I can also sneak some pills home. Sometimes, when a rich woman is in a good mood, she might even reward me with some good stuff, even if it's all leftovers, it's still much better than my junk."

Zhao Ya's vision went black, and she almost fainted.

She seemed to see another scene:

A skinny child stood before a fat, ugly old woman, smiling obsequiously and serving her with utmost care, hoping to get a full meal and a few life-sustaining pills.

The child wore a fawning smile, but there was no smile in his eyes, only a numb, resigned calm.

Her heart was shattered.

Dog Lord, lying to the side, accidentally overheard Zhao Ya's thoughts through his telepathic abilities and almost burst out laughing.

It quickly buried its head in its paws, its shoulders shaking as it tried to suppress its laughter, its whole body convulsing.

The Empress is the most beautiful woman in the demon race, with unparalleled beauty and charm that could topple kingdoms. The demons who pursue her could line up from the foot of the mountain all the way to France.

As a result, in this woman's mind, she directly transformed into a greasy, fat woman.

The contrast is so striking, it makes me laugh.

Seeing that the groundwork had been laid, Ji Zuodao decided to unleash his ultimate move.