Three days later.
A pitch-black carriage without any insignia, like a ghost, stopped at the side gate of Guogongfu.
The air pressure plummeted.
The entire Guogongfu seemed to be gripped by an invisible hand around its throat.
The visitor was the Minister of Dali Temple, Mo Xingchuan.
The youngest third-rank official in the court, in charge of all criminal justice in the empire. This man was an anomaly—he attended no banquets, paid no social visits, accepted no gifts—living like a steel blade hanging over the heads of the capital’s officials, cold, hard, and sharp.
Today, this blade had unsheathed itself exceptionally.
The Duke waited at the main gate, cold sweat trickling down his temples. He had lived his whole life with extreme caution and simply could not understand how he had managed to provoke this “living King of Hell.”
Mo Xingchuan wasted no words, not even giving the Duke a chance for pleasantries, and got straight to the point: “Your Grace, I am not here on official business today, but for a document. May I ask if your eldest daughter, Wen Yan, is present?”
His voice was cold and hard, each word like iron.
Wen Yan was sitting by the window in her small courtyard at that moment, holding a hand warmer, watching the scene from afar.
“Truth-Seeking Eye,” activate.
In her vision, a faint golden light flickered on the man whose posture was as straight as a pine tree.
A trace of a smile flashed in Wen Yan’s eyes.
Success.
He was not part of the main storyline of the original book, not one of those puppets controlled by the script.
He was the biggest bug in this doomed ending, and the only “variable.”
This fish had arrived faster than expected.
…
In the main hall, the atmosphere was so tense it felt like water could drip from it.
Mo Xingchuan did not sit. He held the “Poisoning Incident Investigation Report” in his hand. Standing behind him was the famously renowned old coroner of the capital, Old Fang.
At this moment, Old Fang was staring fixedly at the report, his eyes almost popping out of his head, his hands trembling as if with Parkinson’s.
“Your Grace, did your daughter really write this?” Mo Xingchuan’s voice carried a sharp edge that was impossible to hide.
This report was practically forcing him to reshape his worldview.
What was “acute mycotoxin infection”?
What was a “heat map of case distribution”?
And that damned “big data analysis for sentencing recommendations”?
How could this be the work of a sheltered young lady? This wasn’t even the language of our dynasty!
The Duke wiped his sweat and forced himself to reply, “It was indeed my daughter. She… she has been frail since childhood and usually enjoys reading miscellaneous books…”
“I want to see her,” Mo Xingchuan interrupted directly, his tone leaving no room for refusal.
A moment later, Chun’er helped Wen Yan into the main hall.
The young woman walked with unsteady steps, her face as pale as translucent porcelain, as if a gust of wind could shatter her. Only her eyes were calm, like an ancient well, deep and unfathomable.
Mo Xingchuan frowned slightly.
This? The person who wrote such a shocking and unconventional report was a sickly girl?
“Xiwei greets Lord Mo,” Wen Yan curtsied, her voice as faint as a thread, yet neither humble nor arrogant.
Mo Xingchuan dispensed with formalities and directly spread the report on the table, tapping his knuckle on a line of text: “Miss Wen, explain this: what is ‘comparative analysis of vomit samples’?”
Wen Yan glanced at it, her tone as calm as if she were discussing the weather:
“It’s simple. Collect everyone’s vomit and compare the color, smell, and residue. In everyone’s vomit, there were undigested moldy wood ear mushrooms. That is the ironclad evidence.”
Hiss—
Beside them, Old Fang drew a sharp breath.
He had spent a lifetime examining corpses, only knowing how to inspect the dead. Who could have thought to make use of a living person’s vomit! This approach… is utterly unconventional!
Mo Xingchuan’s eyes sharpened as he pressed further, “And what about this ‘Crime Chain Reconstruction Diagram’? It even directly accuses Li Gui of poisoning?”
“This is not a conclusion, but rather the ‘Highest Suspect Crime Deduction’ based on the existing clues.”
Wen Yan explained unhurriedly.
“Starting from the established facts of Li Gui’s false reporting, embezzlement, and ingredient substitution, I illustrated a series of ‘possibilities’ leading to the eventual consequence of mass poisoning.
I annotated the key evidence for each step alongside it.
The facts prove that all evidence chains point perfectly to him.
This can help you, sir, possess the clearest logical map during interrogation, leaving him with nowhere to hide.”
Mo Xingchuan fell silent.
In his investigations, he relied on interrogation, trickery, and logic.
This young woman before him relied on procedure, data, and a kind of “violent aesthetics” that shoved evidence in your face, leaving no room for rebuttal.
This way of thinking was a complete dimensional strike.
He took a deep breath and asked the question that had kept him awake all night:
“At the end of the report, you mentioned using a method called ‘Fingerprint Comparison’ in the previous theft case. What is that?”
Here it comes.
Wen Yan’s heart stirred slightly. This was today’s grand finale.
She raised her eyes, meeting Mo Xingchuan’s hawk-like gaze directly. “Lord Mo, Xi Wei ventures to ask: if the suspect refuses to confess despite overwhelming evidence, and there are no witnesses or material proof, how would you convict?”
“Severe punishment,” Mo Xingchuan answered without hesitation. “There is no mouth in this world that cannot be pried open under harsh torture.”
“What if it’s a forced confession under duress?”
“This…” Mo Xingchuan was at a loss for words. This was the deadlock of criminal justice.
Wen Yan smiled, a meaningful smile.
“So I need a kind of evidence that never lies and is inherent to every person.”
She turned her head and instructed, “Chun’er, bring the items.”
A tray was brought forward: a candle, an empty teacup, an inkstone, and a sheet of white paper.
“Xi Wei, though lacking in talent, will perform a trick for you, sir.”
Under Wen Yan’s direction, the Duke, Mo Xingchuan, and Old Fang, utterly bewildered, pressed their fingerprints onto the white paper.
“Please observe, everyone: human fingerprints are categorized into whorls, loops, and arches. There are no two identical leaves in this world, nor two identical fingerprints. Even identical twins differ.”
Then, she picked up the teacup that Li Gui had used to frame others.
“This cup was handled by Li Gui. It bears his ‘criminal evidence.'”
Wen Yan lit the candle.
Whoosh—
Black smoke curled upward. She carefully rotated the cup, allowing the smoke to evenly coat its surface.
The next moment, a miracle occurred.
On the originally smooth and clean cup, as the black smoke adhered, a clear, complete fingerprint emerged like a ghost!
The room fell silent.
So quiet that one could hear the sound of breathing.
Everyone’s eyes widened as if they had seen ghosts in broad daylight.
Wen Yan’s movements did not stop, flowing seamlessly. She poured wax, let it cool, and peeled it off.
Moments later, a perfect “Fingerprint Imprint” appeared between her fingertips.
She pressed the imprint onto the paper, right next to the fingerprint Li Gui had left earlier.
“Please look, sir.”
Under the sunlight, the patterns on the imprint and the fingerprint on the paper—their directions, bifurcations, endpoints—
matched perfectly, without the slightest discrepancy!
Boom!
A thunderclap seemed to explode in Mo Xingchuan’s mind.
This was no mere trick.
This… this was a divine skill capable of overturning the entire legal system of Dazhao!
“Divine… divine! Truly divine!”
Old Fang trembled with excitement, dropping to his knees with a “thud” and bowing deeply to Wen Yan. “I’ve spent a lifetime examining corpses, yet never knew such methods existed in this world! Had I known of this technique earlier, the ‘Headless General Case’ from years ago would never have remained unsolved!”
Mo Xingchuan stared fixedly at that fingerprint, cracks appearing for the first time on his perpetually stern face.
Wen Yan noticed Mo Xingchuan staring fixedly at that fingerprint, cracks appearing for the first time on his perpetually stern face.
When he looked up again, the scrutiny and suspicion had vanished, replaced by a nearly fanatical gleam.
He took a deep breath, suppressing the storm raging in his heart, then clasped his hands and performed an exceptionally solemn bow:
“Dare I ask, Miss Gu, from whom did you learn this technique?”
Wen Yan blinked, coolly and unflinchingly tossing out the fabricated story she had prepared long ago:
“My father’s collection of books is quite eclectic. I once saw it in a rare Western Region manuscript titled Forensic Pioneers. I merely idly pondered it in my spare time, making Your Excellency laugh.”
Forensic Pioneers.
Mo Xingchuan silently committed this name to memory.
After a long pause, he retrieved a gilded name card from his robes and respectfully presented it with both hands.
“Miss Gu possesses extraordinary talent; Mo is truly humbled. At noon three days from now, Mo will prepare humble tea at my residence, wishing… to seek your guidance further. I wonder if Miss would honor me with her presence?”
The Duke, who had been pretending to be a quail on the side, was utterly dumbfounded.
What was he seeing?
That was Mo Xingchuan! That living Yama King who wouldn’t even give face to princes was actually actively inviting his daughter for tea? And using a word like “seek guidance”?
Wen Yan accepted the name card, her fingertips tracing over the three characters “Mo Xingchuan” written in bold, forceful strokes.
She lowered her gaze, concealing the triumphant cunning in her eyes.
“If Lord Mo extends the invitation, Xi Wei would not dare to refuse.”
Mo Xingchuan gave her a deep look, then turned and left with Old Fang, who was still questioning his reality.
Though his back remained straight and upright, his steps… were noticeably more hurried than when he arrived.
He was in a rush to go back and search for that non-existent “rare Western Region manuscript.”
Watching the carriage fade into the distance, Wen Yan lightly flicked the name card in her hand.
The bait had been firmly taken.
The truly exciting part of the play was just about to begin.