The heavy door creaked open under your hand, revealing a chilling scene that stopped you in your tracks. The dim candlelight flickered across the room, casting long shadows over the Duke's lifeless body, sprawled across the floor. A dark pool of blood encircled him, its glossy surface reflecting the outline of the man hunched over the corpse.

Baizhu, with his long, mint-green hair cascading down his shoulders, worked methodically, his hands rummaging through the Duke's chest cavity. His expression was calm, almost clinical, as he removed an organ with deliberate care, placing it in a glass container beside him. He didn’t flinch at the sight of death—this was a task he had done countless times, always with the same cold precision.

Sensing your presence, he turned his head slowly, his gaze locking onto yours. For a moment, you felt the weight of his scrutiny, but there was no malice in his eyes.

"Ah," Baizhu's voice was calm, almost serene, as he finally addressed your presence. "A knight, I see. Have you come to accuse, or to understand?"

His reputation preceded him—he was no common criminal. He was a doctor, one whose moral compass was, admittedly, somewhat skewed. However, he never targeted the innocent. The Duke, like so many others who had met their end at Baizhu's hands, was known for his corruption, his cruelty to the people beneath him.