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

"Snapped!"

Ji Zuodao slapped Huang Da on the back of the head again, making Huang Da's head buzz and causing him to stumble forward, almost losing his balance.

"You idiot! Using me, a Taoist priest, as a negative example to educate your kids? Are you out of your mind?"

Huang Da clutched the back of his head, wincing in pain, and looked aggrieved: "No, Master Dao, I was just teaching my child to walk the right path..."

"Pah! What do you, a heretical cultivator, know about the righteous path? Let me tell you, I, Daoist Master, am the most righteous one."

Ji Zuodao spat, then puffed out his chest and gestured with his thumb to his chest.

"Do you really think I'm still the same shady little cultivator I used to be?"

"Open your beady green eyes and take a good look! I, Daoist Master, am no ordinary person in the Han Dynasty! A Divine Power Realm expert! Head of the Demon Management Section, Bureau 749!"

"If word gets out, they'll always be someone else's child! Do you know what 'someone else's child' means? It's the kind of child your mom keeps nagging, 'Look at other kids!'"

Huang Da had a strange expression, his lips twitching, wanting to laugh but not daring to, as if he were constipated.

"Um... Daoist Master, although I'm abroad, I still browse the Qi Cultivator forums. Didn't you, this 'other people's child,' have your own family wiped out? I heard they even burned the family genealogy and created a separate page for yourself. Are you some kind of filial son? Hey, hey, hey! That's my own bone! Don't break it wrong! That's my patella! If you take my patella away, my knee will be ruined!"

He shouted as he reached out to protect the few bones in his body that hadn't been broken off yet.

Ji Zuodao held a few freshly broken bones in his hand and glanced at him sideways:

"That's their fault. Besides, what's wrong with me having a separate page? My page is full of glorious deeds, thicker than their entire book combined. You don't know anything."

The little brat next to him had climbed out of Huang San's arms at some point and was now riding on Huang Da's neck, his two little hands gripping Huang Da's sparse hair, as if he were riding a big horse, steadily and firmly.

He tilted his head, his bright eyes curiously scrutinizing Ji Zuodao. After a long while, he suddenly asked:

"Are you from Bureau 749?"

"uh-huh."

"My uncle said that the people from Bureau 749 are the government's personal 'Paw Patrol'."

Ji Zuodao's lips twitched: "Then they call them 'lackeys'."

"Oh." The little brat nodded, humbly accepting the correction, then asked, "So, which is better, being a heretical cultivator or a lackey?"

Ji Zuodao grinned, revealing a set of bright white teeth, his smile was incredibly radiant.

"Let me put it this way, in Jinghai, I can fight whomever I want. I can go out for a stroll, without stealing or robbing, and people will scramble to stuff good stuff into my pockets. If you kill someone, you'll be chased all over the mountains; if I kill someone, I can pin the crime on you and then chase you all over the mountains."

Huang and the other two shivered simultaneously.

That bastard is really capable of doing something like that.

The little boy's eyes lit up instantly, their bright light shining like two tiny light bulbs in the dimly lit factory.

He could almost see himself after joining the Paw Patrol—

They bullied men and women, acted tyrannically, and could beat or rob whomever they wanted. Wherever they went, people would bow and scrape and call them "Master." Just thinking about those days makes me feel incredibly happy.

He excitedly grabbed Huang Da's sparse hair and pulled hard, making Huang Da howl in pain.

"Dad, Dad! Let's join the Paw Patrol! It sounds way more impressive than being a heretical cultivator!"

"Stop fooling around!"

Huang Da rolled his eyes, slapped his hand away, and said irritably, "In the eyes of Bureau 749, we're just scraps, something to gnaw on. You really think they're sincerely inviting you?"

"Hey, you can't say that."

Ji Zuodao plopped down on a discarded iron box next to him, crossed his legs, and leisurely swung his toes.

He reached out and pulled the little cub off Huang Da's neck, holding it in his hand like a kitten, looking it up and down with surprise in his eyes.

"You three are so tough, even our 749th Bureau finds them brittle and hard to chew. But this kid... well, maybe not."

He didn't recognize him at first.

But he saw it clearly when the little brat was sticking bones out earlier.

The bone was white and had a lustrous sheen, completely different from ordinary bones. It looked like a jade carving, very translucent.

Born with the bones of a sword.

Don't be fooled by the fact that innate sword bones are so common in online novels these days, appearing on all sorts of random people as if they're worthless.

Actually, this thing is quite remarkable.

To put it another way, if Ji Zuodao were to sell this brat to a sword-cultivation sect like Shushan, they would have to scrape together the money to buy him, even if it meant digging their ancestors out of their graves to sell them.

This is the true value of being born with a sword-like spirit.

Why, you ask?

Because if someone born with a sword-like spirit is properly nurtured, they are guaranteed to have divine treasures in the future, enough to support a sect's foundation for a thousand years.

This deal is a win-win situation no matter how you look at it.

What a pity, such a precious gem was snatched away by those three bastards, Huang Da.

Ji Zuodao looked at Huang Da as if he were looking at a landlord's foolish son:

"Born with sword-like bones, practicing evil arts is a complete waste of talent! Aren't you three afraid of being sliced ​​into eight pieces by some sword cultivator one day while walking down the street?"

Huang Dayi was indignant upon hearing this, his neck stiffening and his face stubborn:

"Master Dao, what are you saying? Are the secret techniques of our White Bone Temple inferior to those sword control techniques? Those messy sword techniques of theirs just borrow a bit of power from the sword bones. How can they compare to the power of our White Bone Temple? We just extract the bones and use them directly. How practical, how convenient, how much less trouble!"

"Those sword-cultivating sects like Shushan, Kunlun, and Penglai have only become popular because of fantasy dramas in the last two years. If it were before, they wouldn't even be worthy of shining our White Bone Temple's shoes!"

While his statement was somewhat exaggerated, it wasn't entirely untrue.

In its early days, the White Bone Temple was a notorious and powerful evil sect, renowned for its power and influence.

How famous is it?

He became so famous that he caught the eye of a burly man.

So the big man picked an auspicious day, surrounded the White Bone Temple, and bombarded it with cannon fire, giving it a very satisfying blast.

You ask why the Han Dynasty chose an auspicious day?

Actually, the Han people didn't believe in this stuff.

But the White Bone Observation Ceremony is a belief.

That day happened to be the "birthday of the White Bone Ancestor" of the White Bone Temple. The entire sect gathered together for some kind of "gathering of heroes," to hold sacrifices and celebrations, making it as lively as the New Year.

The big man looked and exclaimed: "Good heavens, the radishes are having a meeting, all gathered together? What are we waiting for? Let's blast them!"

Thus, a single wave swept through the entire area.

The White Bone Temple thus became history.

All that's left are Huang Da and his few remaining followers.

This is a matter of timing and fate.

That day, the three of them were originally planning to attend the celebration in the sect, but Huang Er was greedy and insisted that a new club had opened in the town at the foot of the mountain, and that the young ladies inside were especially beautiful. He dragged Huang Da and Huang San to "see it".

Huang Da didn't want to go at first, but he couldn't resist Huang Er's persistent pleading, and he was also a little curious, so he went along.

When they arrived at the club, before they could even "experience" anything, the police raided it.

The three men were handcuffed to the radiator in the police station and made to squat there all night. The next day, they were detained for another fifteen days.

When they came out fifteen days later and returned to the mountain, they saw—

The White Bone Temple is gone.

The place was devastated; even the mountain gate had been bombed into ruins.

The three of them stood in front of the ruins, looking at each other in silence for a long time.

Finally, Huang Da said, "Damn it, I'm never going to a club again."

Huang Er and Huang San nodded vigorously: "Yes, yes, we won't go again. Next time we'll go to a foot massage parlor."

Then the three of them became the last inheritors of the White Bone Temple.

It's a blessing in disguise.

Otherwise, they would have been just like their fellow disciples, bombarded and killed by the big man, leaving not even ashes behind.