The thick smell of blood was like a pair of invisible hands, strangling every corner of the residence of the Minister of Punishment.
Lu Li stood at the door of the study, his stomach churning. He had been a detective for three years and had seen many corpses, but none of them were as full of strange rituals as the one before him.
Lord Shangshu's body was hung on the beam by a piece of white silk, and his body swayed gently with the breeze blowing in from the window. The official robes on his body were neat and tidy, and there was no trace of pain on his face, and there was even a trace of strange serenity on his face.
"Kill yourself out of fear of crime." A calm and tired voice sounded.
