Silence opened her eyes, there was a chain around her neck, and there was a guillotine in front of her.
The memory of being a top auditor and forensic doctor in his previous life is still there - any abnormal value in the account books will automatically be marked red in his eyes, and the hidden scars on any corpse will be invisible to him.
"Here is the collaborating account book, kill it!" The moment the knife-axe hand raised the knife, Shen Mo saw two things: the pine smoke ink on the cover of the account book was still wet, and there was a second strangulation mark on the neck of the corpse in the audience that shouldn't exist.
"The pine smoke ink turns blue when it meets water. You should dry this account for at least three months before taking it out. As for this body -" he paused, "the strangulation marks were forged after death. The murderer forged the cause of death, and you forged the account book. It's the handwriting of the same person."
The swordsman's knife fell with a clang on the wooden platform.
From then on, he was silent on the road to becoming a god in the Song Dynasty, stepping on other people's false accounts and perjury at every step.
The 470,000 kilograms of pig iron falsely reported by the armory were turned into arrowheads for the destruction of the country by the Jurchens. Forty percent of Liao's annual coins were withheld, and Empress Dowager Xiao's golden bell contained the blood of Song people. The beard-stroking and smiling Xianggong Lu in the capital had his peony stamp stamped on the last page of every fake account and on the autopsy of every unnamed corpse.
"Dead people don't lie, but living people do. Accounts don't lie, but the people who make them do."
There was no forensic doctor in the Northern Song Dynasty, and there was no audit office - but he could build one.
