During the Song Dynasty, it was the fourth year of Xuanhe's reign, and it was early summer. The northern wind, still carrying a bit of chill, passed through the alleys and blew over the river, twisting and twisting the poplar trees on the old streets. In the city, prosperity and poverty coexist, law-abiding and crime are intertwined, and every inconspicuous alley seems to hide unknown stories.
In Bianliang, the capital, almost everyone knew Song Ci, the executioner. He was a tall, thin man with piercing eyes, a serious face, and meticulous in his work. He exudes an awe-inspiring temperament, but it is not so much his natural majesty as his iron-bloodedness and tenacity tempered by countless cases.
On this day, Song Ci was handling a complex case in the interrogation hall of Dali Temple. Suddenly, a clerk's voice came from outside the door: "Master Song, there is urgent news."
Song Ci raised his eyes with a calm gaze, seemingly unmoved by this sudden interruption: "Come in."
The clerk hurriedly walked in, holding a letter sealed with clay in his hand, and knelt down respectfully: "Sir, there was a murder case in the eastern suburbs of the capital. The crime occurred in an abandoned ancient temple. There was no one in the temple on the night of the crime, but in the early morning of the next day, a dead woman was found with three stab wounds in her body. Next to the deceased, there was a damaged stone tablet with unclear inscriptions, which seemed to hide a mystery."
