Great Ming: The Nine-Year-Old Embroidered Uniform Guard Sees Through Every Crime

I transmigrated. I was nine years old, my father was dead, and I did odd jobs in the archives office of the Embroidered Uniform Guard. Everyone called me the Shen family's little brat, a good-for-nothing who barely scraped by. Nobody knew I had a complete modern criminal investigation curriculum in my head. And nobody knew that from the first day I opened my eyes, I could see a crime score above everyone's head. A 41 for the veteran clerk, a 68 for the accountant, a 79 for the thousand-household commander. Who had bludgeoned someone to death with a scale weight, whose silver was tainted with blood, and who hid a grudge for his father's murder beneath a smiling face.

Other people solved cases with torture, time, and luck. He solved them by looking once to identify a suspect, then crouching down for a look at the killer's soles. The case was solved. The System upgraded. At last, specific crimes appeared beneath the numbers he saw. Then he discovered that every case's list of crimes contained the same name. More baffling still, the notice on the wall commemorating an officer who had died in the line of duty many years ago bore his own face.

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.