National Forensic Doctor

Jiang Yuan and others watched the middle-aged man cutting trees sign his name and press his fingerprints before finally being taken away and sent directly to the detention center.

Chop down a small tree at random, and if you get caught, at most, you pay a fine. Cut a lot, or if the amount is large, the most you get is administrative detention. But this guy had chopped down a precious, age-old pine tree—something a fortune-teller had specified by name, naturally it had to be something conspicuous. The park had it priced at 20,000, and the follow-up assessment by the Bureau of Commerce would only be higher, not lower, escalating it to the level of criminal detention.

As Jiang Yuan watched the uncle leave in handcuffs, he couldn’t help but say, "The work at the police station is quite interesting."

"This is one of the more interesting parts," Director Tan laughed.

Jiang Yuan didn’t say much more. The more mundane aspects didn’t need special inquiry; a forensic doctor had plenty of those.

Squeak.

Just a few minutes after the interrogation room became empty, another criminal suspect was brought in.

Meng Chengbiao, at the head of the table, didn’t even shift his butt. He glared with eyes like those of a shoddy factory’s HR and asked, "What’s your name?"

The seated criminal suspect, tall and portly, with a finely tattooed dragon on his arm and a head shaved shinier than a turtle shell. His eyes, big as copper bells, had a ferocity that spilled out with just a slight bulge.

Upon hearing the question, he frowned deeply and said loudly, "Reporting to the government, my name is Huang Biao."