Beneath the brim of the hat, a piercing gaze shot straight toward him. Wang Bingsheng's heart skipped a beat, but then he reminded himself—after all, the other was merely a youth; what was there to fear? Clearing his throat to mask his earlier unease, he loudly retorted, "That might be possible, but these are merely your speculations. What proof do you have to show that he was strangled unconscious before being hung?!" He was eager to see what this young man was truly capable of.
Proof? Zhuo Qing sneered and suddenly rose to his feet. "I will have him tell you where the evidence lies!"
Him? Everyone followed Zhuo Qing's gaze to the motionless Lin Bokang sprawled on the ground, already stiff as a corpse. How could a lifeless body reveal any evidence?
A cold shiver ran through the crowd as they involuntarily stepped back, except for Lou Xiyan, who wore a calm expression.
"First, let us consider the cause of death." Zhuo Qing pointed to the victim's neck and addressed Mo Bai, "Lift his head."
Mo Bai grumbled inwardly, feeling as if Zhuo Qing treated him like a servant. Yet his hands moved involuntarily, gently raising Lin Bokang's neck. The folds smoothed out, revealing the distinct ligature marks.
"There are no other apparent fatal wounds or signs of poisoning. The signs of asphyxiation are evident; the cause of death is strangulation by a belt," Zhuo Qing declared.
Wang Bingsheng immediately scoffed, "What's the difference from what I just said? Trying to mystify the situation!"
Without further dispute, Zhuo Qing crouched down and coldly pointed to the ligature marks. "There are two strangulation marks on the neck. Hanging can also cause two marks, typically neat-edged, with rare fractures to the hyoid or thyroid cartilage. But these marks are entirely different. One lies below the thyroid cartilage, parallel to the body. This mark was made when the killer strangled the victim unconscious. Due to the victim's frantic struggle, the skin peeled and subcutaneous hemorrhaging occurred, leaving a deep, darkened groove. The other mark, faint and shallow, was caused by suspending the victim from the beam when he was already unconscious. The victim's cervical vertebrae spinous processes are clearly fractured—direct evidence of violent, forceful strangulation."
Lou Xiyan stepped into the cell, scrutinizing the neck as Zhuo Qing described—indeed, two ligature marks, one deep and one shallow, were conspicuously distinct.
Wu Zhigang reluctantly followed, casting a sharp glare at Wang Bingsheng. Silently cursing, he thought, "Who really is the coroner here?"
Feeling the burning gaze, Wang Bingsheng snapped back to attention. No wonder the youth had been so arrogant earlier—he did possess some skill. After a moment's contemplation, Wang Bingsheng shot back fiercely, "If strangled, there should be intersecting marks at the back of the neck. Yet there are none! The differing depths could simply be from the victim's final struggles!"
"Remove his shirt," Zhuo Qing said softly, as if restraining some emotion. Mo Bai slowly looked up, noticing Zhuo Qing's hand tense and relax repeatedly. After several moments, Zhuo Qing finally rose and faced the provocatively grinning Wang Bingsheng, voice icy: "You are utterly unworthy to be a coroner!"
Wang Bingsheng exploded, "What did you say?!"
Having served as a coroner in Yingtian Prefecture for years, having performed countless autopsies, he was enraged that this youngster arrogantly questioned his competence.
"As a coroner, you are the sole voice for the deceased. His body is telling you how he died, when he died, and what he endured during death! And you? You utterly ignore all this! You have not even meticulously examined every wound and detail before hastily concluding! Because of you, he may die without justice, and the murderer will walk free!"
She could tolerate a forensic doctor lacking in experience—knowledge and skill could be learned—but she could not tolerate negligence, carelessness, and sophistry.
Her calm yet cold voice echoed in the cell, leaving Wang Bingsheng flushed with embarrassment. Even Lou Xiyan's heart stirred deeply.
This man was nothing like the boy she had first met—once cold and cunning, now resolute, steadfast, calm, and profound. Could he truly be the same adolescent?
Lou Xiyan felt a flicker of doubt.
"Husband, you died so tragically!"
The cell fell into a haunting silence until a mournful cry snapped everyone back. Mo Bai had removed Lin Bokang's clothing, revealing countless old wounds across his chest—some healed, others freshly scarred—still fierce and harrowing.
Madam Lin collapsed upon the body, sobbing uncontrollably.
Zhuo Qing gently said, "Wu Si, help her aside. Don't obstruct me."
"Right away!" Wu Si hurried over and led Madam Lin away.
Zhuo Qing's demeanor subtly shifted—something indefinable about her words compelled obedience.
Ignoring the humiliated Wang Bingsheng, Zhuo Qing crouched once more, gently pushing the victim's shoulder to one side. Mo Bai, understanding, assisted in turning the body. Zhuo Qing raised an eyebrow—quite clever, an excellent assistant.
"The reason the ligature marks don't intersect is that something hard was pressed against his back while the belt was forcefully tightened, causing asphyxiation. Hence, the back bears marks from a rigid object."
Sure enough, two dark purple bruises appeared on Lin Bokang's back. Unlike old wounds, these were recent, their skin broken and the wounds fresh.
What could have caused this?
Everyone searched for a matching weapon. Lou Xiyan approached the cell door, half-crouching, seemingly searching for something.
Wu Zhigang, puzzled, compared for a long time before recognizing the bruises corresponded exactly to the wooden bars of the prison door. Elated, he exclaimed, "I found it! The wooden bars of the cell door!"
After examining the bars, Lou Xiyan smiled faintly and stood, as if waiting for him.
Only then did Zhuo Qing lift the victim's finger and say, "He was strangled unconscious from outside the door. His fingertips still bear wood splinters from his desperate struggle."
Their eyes met. Zhuo Qing pulled down her hat brim, shielding Lou Xiyan's gaze again.
Wu Zhigang nodded in understanding. "So, Lin Bokang was indeed murdered!"
He turned, glaring at the junior jailer. "Who else entered the cell today?!"
The young jailer, crestfallen, replied, "No one entered the cell after they came to retrieve the prisoner earlier."
"Nonsense!" Wu Zhigang scolded, "If no one came in, how was he killed?"
"There really wasn't anyone!" The jailer was helpless and bowed his head under the rebuke.
"Because the victim died last night!" Zhuo Qing interrupted, shaking her head in frustration. Could they not wait to hear her out before starting their investigations? Such impatience was truly exasperating.
"Last night?"