He died unjustly in his previous life, and returned with the system in this life. He used his bones as evidence, used his wisdom to break the situation, and vowed to nail all the real culprits to the trial stand.
The autopsy table was cold, and when Shen Liang opened his eyes, his hand was still on the corpse's chest.
He didn't move. His breathing was very low, and his heartbeat was incredibly fast. This is not a dream. The smell of disinfectant in the air, the reflection of metal equipment, the buzzing of overhead light tubes - it's all bone-chillingly real. He looked down at his hands. They were clean, with no blood or burn marks left by poison. The nails are neatly trimmed and the cuffs are brand new. It's the same white coat I wore on the first day of internship.
The system prompt sounded at this time. Sharp, short, like a needle piercing the eardrum. Shen Liang frowned, did not raise his head, and did not call anyone. He knew no one would come. At this time, there were only him and an unknown female corpse that had just been delivered to the morgue. The prompt sounded again, this time clearer, with a mechanical feel that could not be ignored: "The system of redress of injustice is being activated - Binding object: Shen Liang." . . . .
