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

After Ji Zuodao left, the Wang family villa turned into a battlefield.

Zhao Ya stood at the door, watching the figure disappear completely into the morning light before slowly closing the door.

When she turned around, Wang Gang and Wang Bing both shivered.

That gaze was so cold it could freeze, like a knife in the dead of winter, scraping painfully against your face.

"Wang Bing".

Wang Bing trembled all over: "Mom...I'm here..."

"Come here."

Wang Bing walked over obediently.

He thought he would at most get a scolding, after all, his face was still wrapped in gauze and his arm was in a cast. No matter how heartless his mother was, she couldn't possibly hurt a wounded person, right?

As it turned out, he underestimated his mother.

Zhao Ya glanced around and her gaze settled on the feather duster stuck in the vase in the corner.

That was used by the maids for cleaning; it usually just sat there collecting dust, and nobody ever gave it a second glance.

Today marks a highlight of its career.

Zhao Ya grabbed the feather duster with a swift and clean motion, as if she had practiced it a thousand times.

Wang Bing instinctively wanted to run upstairs.

He had only taken two steps when Zhao Ya grabbed him by the back of his neck.

"Mom! Mom! Calm down! I'm your own son!"

"I'm beating you, my own son! We're both my own sons, look at Ji Zuodao and then look at you!"

The feather duster fell with a crisp "snap," a clear and pleasant sound that echoed throughout the living room.

"Awooo—!"

Wang Bing let out a miserable scream, a sound so shrill it was like a pig being slaughtered.

"I told you not to post that! I told you not to slander your brother! I told you not to go astray!"

"Mom! I was wrong! I was really wrong! Please stop hitting me! It hurts!"

"Pain? Why didn't you think about the pain when you posted that? Why didn't you think about the pain when you were badmouthing your brother?"

Zhao Ya cursed fiercely, but her hands gradually softened.

After all, he was her own flesh and blood. She hit him more than a dozen times and even used some spiritual power, but seeing Wang Bing's buttocks swollen so badly, she couldn't bring herself to hit him anymore.

"Go back inside! Your allowance is being deducted this month!"

Wang Bing felt as if he had been granted a pardon and scrambled upstairs. When he reached the top of the stairs, he glanced back and saw his mother slowly turning towards his father, holding a feather duster.

That look in his eyes was even colder than when he looked at him earlier.

Wang silently lit a candle for his father in his heart.

Dad, you carry it, I'm leaving first.

Then he disappeared at the top of the stairs as fast as he could.

Wang Gang also wanted to run away.

But as soon as he took a step, Zhao Ya's voice pierced him like a knife: "Wang Gang, stop right there."

Wang Gang's feet were as if nailed to the floor; he couldn't move them any further.

"Wife... let me explain..."

"Explain your mother's leg!"

Zhao Ya threw the feather duster on the ground, turned around and pulled out the black whip from the cabinet.

The whip was about three feet long, with a glossy sheen and a red tassel tied to the tip—the very same whip that had just been used to strike Wang Gang.

Wang Gang's face turned pale instantly.

"Honey! Honey, calm down! Didn't you just have a seizure? Your injury hasn't healed yet!"

"What happened before was before, what's happening now is happening now!"

Zhao Ya flicked her wrist, and the whip exploded in the air with a crisp sound, like setting off firecrackers during the Chinese New Year.

"Snapped!"

"ah--!"

"Snapped!"

"Be gentle, honey!"

"Snapped!"

"I was wrong! I was so wrong!"

"Slap! Slap slap slap! Slap!"

Wang Bing sat on the sofa in the second-floor bedroom, covering his buttocks, listening to the continuous "slap slap slap" sounds from downstairs, his heart filled with complex emotions.

He suddenly felt that he was actually quite lucky.

Although he was whipped twenty times with a feather duster, his buttocks swelled up like steamed buns, and his allowance was docked, compared to his father's treatment, this was heavenly.

The noises and sounds didn't sound like ordinary domestic violence; it was definitely a violent attack.

The white snake spits out its tongue, Zhang Fei tricks the horse, the hawk does a somersault...

Damn, they've already made a combo.

The next morning, Wang Bing dragged his swollen buttocks and limped downstairs.

He thought to himself, "Yesterday's beating should have put this matter behind us. At least I can have a peaceful meal today."

He walked to the entrance of the dining room and froze.

At the dining table, Ji Zuodao was sitting in the seat that originally belonged to him, holding a pan-fried bun in his left hand, a bowl of soy milk in his right hand, and half a piece of osmanthus cake stuffed in his mouth, his cheeks puffed out like a hamster.

He saw Wang Bing and grinned at him, revealing a set of white teeth covered in pastry crumbs: "Oh, Young Master Wang, good morning."

Wang Bing's face instantly darkened.

"Why are you here again?"

"My aunt asked me to come."

Ji Zuoli said confidently, then took another bite of the pan-fried bun. The broth spurted out, and he quickly slurped it up.

"My aunt told me yesterday that I could come for dinner again when I have time. I'm free today, so I came."

Wang Bing felt his blood pressure soaring.

Yes, his mother did tell him to come back for dinner next time.

But who comes the next day? Can you be any more shameless?

As it turns out, you can never overestimate Ji Zuodao's bottom line.

He not only came, but he came more and more frequently.

Ji Zuodao, well, he's never known what politeness is since he was a child.

When he was a child, his father told him the story of Kong Rong sharing pears, hoping to trick him into sharing the food he got from the empress with him.

After hearing the story, Ji Zuodao tilted his head and thought for a long time before saying, "Kong Rong must be regretting it terribly. He was under so much pressure, and he just politely declined. If it were me, I definitely wouldn't have been so polite."

Dog was speechless.

From then on, Dog Master understood that this kid was destined to be a troublemaker.

At first, Ji Zuodao just came to have breakfast.

Later, they started eating lunch together too.

Later on, they didn't skip dinner either.

Later on, he started bringing his whole family with him.

At first, he brought Dog Master with him, and Zhao Ya specially prepared a bowl for Dog Master, which was filled with braised pork.

Dog was very satisfied with his meal, and before leaving, he wagged his tail at Zhao Ya. For an old dog like Dog who thinks everyone else is an idiot, this was the highest form of affirmation.

Later, Ji Zuodao also brought along Qiqi.

The little girl had two braids and wore a floral dress. She sat on a chair, her short legs swaying back and forth, unable to reach the ground.

They eat very quietly, without making a fuss, and even wash the dishes themselves afterward.

Zhao Ya's heart melted the moment she saw Qi Qi.

"This is……"

"My sister, I found her."

Zhao Ya was stunned for a moment, and then her eyes reddened again.

In her view, Ji Zuodao adopted this little girl because he himself had been abandoned when he was a child, so he couldn't bear to see other children also wandering the streets.

What a kind child.

In short, a man, a dog, and a zombie settled down in the Wang family home.

Every day at mealtime, Ji Zuodao would stroll over to the Wang family's door with Doggy and Qiqi.

The way they acted, the way they carried themselves, was like they were at home, completely familiar with the place.

Where is Zhao Ya?

Zhao Ya was so happy she couldn't stop smiling.

In her view, Ji Zuodao's willingness to come to dinner was a sign of closeness to her and acceptance of her.

Otherwise, why would he bring his whole family? With a dog and a little girl, it means he considers this place his home!

She gets up early every morning to prepare meals, cooking different delicious dishes for Ji Zuodao.

Today I'm making chicken soup, tomorrow I'm making braised pork, and the day after tomorrow I'm steaming sea bass. I wish I could bring the entire Manchu Han Imperial Feast to the table.

Ji Zuodao didn't stand on ceremony; he ate and drank as he pleased, and even packed up leftovers.

Sometimes I'll even add a few comments:

"Auntie, the fish is a little too salty today."

"Auntie, next time you can add more rock sugar to the braised pork."

"Auntie, this soup is delicious. Could you make it again tomorrow?"

Zhao Ya made a note of everything and would adjust it next time she cooked.

Wang Gang and Wang Bing sat on the other side of the table, watching this scene, feeling like they were superfluous.