“This official still needs to return to the yamen. If the official business is delayed, can Mr. Sullivan take responsibility?”

……

The courtyard was packed with people, all talking at once, noisy and clamorous, making one’s head ache. Emily Thompson asked the yamen runner, “What’s going on here?”

The yamen runner sighed, a bit helpless, and said, “Last night, there was a murder in our county. A wealthy merchant was killed in his own home. Coincidentally, it was his fiftieth birthday yesterday, and quite a few guests stayed over at his house. We had no choice but to bring them all to the county office. The magistrate has been questioning them all morning…”

“A murder!”

Upon hearing this, Emily Thompson was suddenly energized.

A minor theft case could already grant him six more days to live.

If he could solve a murder, wouldn’t he soar straight up?

Thinking of this, he hurriedly pushed through the crowd, almost running to the entrance of the main hall. Seeing the magistrate of Chang’an County about to bring down the gavel, Emily Thompson thought he had already found the culprit, and his heart tightened. He shouted loudly, “Stop! Let me handle this!”

Chapter 11: Ingenious Use of the Code

In the main hall, the magistrate of Chang’an County, Charles Sullivan, felt like his head was about to explode.

A murder in his jurisdiction was no small matter to begin with.

If it were an ordinary murder, it would be one thing, but this time, the victim was a well-known wealthy merchant in Chang’an. Not only did he hold a high status in the business world, but he was also closely connected with certain high-ranking officials at court.

Last night also happened to be his fiftieth birthday, and many distinguished guests stayed over at his house. These guests themselves were of no ordinary status—some were wealthy merchants, others, like him, were officials in the court. If he let them go and tried to investigate one by one later, it would be a hundred times more troublesome. But keeping them all here and interrogating them one by one was clearly unrealistic.

These people were all talking at once, making his head ache. Charles Sullivan picked up the gavel, about to quiet them down, when suddenly a hurried voice came from outside.

“Stop! Let me handle this!”

The voice sounded familiar. Charles Sullivan looked up and indeed saw a familiar figure.

His heart sank. Things were already chaotic enough, and now this young master had come to add to the mess—wouldn’t that just make things worse?

Although displeased, he still maintained a smile on his face, personally stepping forward and apologetically saying, “Young master, as you can see, I’m currently tied up. Once I’ve solved the case, I’ll be sure to entertain you properly…”

Hearing this, Emily Thompson breathed a sigh of relief. Good, the case hadn’t been solved yet.

He smiled and said, “You go ahead with your investigation. I’ll just watch from the side and won’t disturb you.”

Charles Sullivan forced a smile, returned to his seat, and continued reviewing the testimonies.

He had wanted to imitate Emily Thompson’s method—having everyone write down in detail what happened last night, both forwards and backwards, to determine who was lying and identify the suspect. But last night was the victim’s fiftieth birthday, and almost all the guests had been drinking. Many were dead drunk and slept through the night, unable to recall what happened, let alone recount it in reverse.

That method was clever, but it wouldn’t work for this case.

Emily Thompson stood to the side, seeing the magistrate’s furrowed brow, and asked, “Has Mr. Sullivan found anything?”

Charles Sullivan shook his head and said, “I’ve been investigating all morning and found nothing.”

Emily Thompson thought for a moment and asked, “How about letting me try?”

Charles Sullivan turned to look at Emily Thompson, full of disbelief: “You?”

It wasn’t that he looked down on Emily Thompson, but this case involved too many people and had no clues at all. He had interrogated all morning and hadn’t gotten a single lead.

That Master Zheng usually did good deeds—building bridges, distributing porridge, helping others—and had no known enemies. There wasn’t even a suspect. How could he investigate?

Unless his father, William Thompson, stepped in, Charles Sullivan thought there might be a slight chance.

Emily Thompson smiled slightly and said, “Since we can’t find anything for now, why not let me give it a try?”

Charles Sullivan asked, “How do you plan to investigate, young master?”

In truth, Emily Thompson didn’t know how to investigate a case—that was the job of the police. As a judge, his duty was to preside over trials, and he was self-aware enough to know that, in terms of brains, he was nowhere near the likes of Bao Zheng, Di Renjie, or Sherlock Holmes.

But he had the “Code of Law.”

All he needed to do was lock everyone up, write verdicts for each according to the crime of murder, and observe whether the code displayed the person’s portrait and whether his lifespan increased. That way, he’d know if the person was the real culprit. With so many people, it was just a matter of writing a bit more.

If the murderer was among them, he would find out sooner or later.

The only problem was explaining things afterward—he couldn’t let anyone see the names he wrote. Emily Thompson looked at the magistrate and said, “It’s too chaotic here for questioning. Let’s lock them up in the prison first.”

Charles Sullivan raised an eyebrow, then said, “Young master, I’m afraid that’s not appropriate. Most of these people are of distinguished status, some even court officials. Though their rank isn’t high, they are still bona fide officials…”

Emily Thompson glanced around, estimated the number of people, and said, “The main hall is too chaotic. The prison is quieter and more suitable for investigation. I promise, within two hours, they’ll be released…”

The magistrate thought for a moment, then nodded slightly, picked up the gavel, and knocked a few times. The hall gradually quieted down, both inside and out.