The door to the Third Court Hall wasn't just massive. It was alive. The black nephrite of its surface slowly flowed like thick resin, with golden veins — ancient protective spells — flickering in its depths. Xiao Bai, pale as chalk, pressed his service disk to the panel by the entrance.
"Ahem... Defender Lin Wei and assistant... representing the defense for spirit #777..."
The door dissolved without a sound, and the might of Diyu justice crashed down upon them.
The hall was round, like a circus arena. Instead of stands, there were tiers disappearing into darkness, filled with shimmering figures of spirit-spectators. In the center, on a low platform, stood a girl. Zhang Mei. She was almost transparent; the floor pattern was visible through her. Her feet didn't touch the ground — she hovered a centimeter above the surface, and every few seconds her body convulsed, mimicking a fall. The eternal relapse had already begun.
Opposite her, on a high dais of bone porcelain, sat the Judge.
Yama Heng wasn't a giant. He was gaunt, almost emaciated, in rich but worn judicial robes from the Ming dynasty. His face was narrow, ascetic, with closed eyes. Above his head floated a complex holographic instrument — a cross between scales, a calculator, and a calendar. The "Karma Calculator." Its tentacle-rays were attached to Zhang Mei's wrists, forehead, and chest, silently reading data.
On either side of the judge stood two stone-faced clerks, recording everything on glowing scrolls.
The atmosphere hung thick in the air like syrup: indifference mixed with the anticipation of routine. Another sinner, another verdict. A conveyor belt.
Everything changed when Lin Wei stepped into the circle of light.
His leather shoes echoed loudly on the stone. The sound was so alien that several spirits in the lower tiers flinched. Yama Heng slowly opened his eyes. They weren't black or white — they were the color of old parchment, covered in microscopic text. The judge's gaze slid over Lin Wei, lingered on his wrist with the seal, and his eyebrows twitched slightly.
"Registry entry... 'Defender'," Yama Heng's voice was dry, like the rustle of pages. "Explain your presence, living being. For spirits of category '44-G', defense is not provided for by the statutes of the Heavenly Administration. Your intervention is a procedural anomaly."
Lin Wei took another step forward, placing himself between the judge and his "client." He felt the cold emanating from Zhang Mei on his back and the warmth of his own blood. The game had begun.
"Honorable Court," his voice, accustomed to addressing the most cynical arbitrators, sounded surprisingly calm. "My presence is legalized under Protocol AD-1000. I am here to perform my official duties. Namely — to ensure that legal proceedings are conducted without violations."
A whisper ran through the hall. "Alive...", "Protocol...", "Such audacity..."
Yama Heng didn't blink.
"There are no violations. Spirit #777 voluntarily terminated her biological cycle. Article 44-G. Sentence — eternal relapse. Everything complies with regulations. Your duty, 'defender,' is to acknowledge this fact."
"I would like to review the prosecution's evidence," Lin retorted, not lowering his eyes. "Specifically, the 'testimony of the spirit-witness.'"
The judge froze for a second. Something like... irritation flickered in his gaze. Like a professor interrupted by a cheeky student.
"That is unnecessary. The video-phantom of the incident is unambiguous."
"Diyu Legal Proceedings Protocol, Section 7, Paragraph 3: 'Any party with legal status in the proceedings has the right to review all case materials, including witness testimonies, before the final verdict is issued,'" Lin Wei declared. He had learned the words instantly when he glimpsed this clause on the glowing code of laws projected on the wall. Looking for a loophole.
The silence grew even thicker. One of the judge's clerks frantically began scrolling through his holographic scroll. Yama Heng nodded slowly.
"Bring forth the witness."
From the shadows behind the judge's dais floated another spirit — an elderly man in old home clothes. His image flickered like a bad signal.
"Spirit #455, neighbor of the deceased Zhang Mei," he introduced himself, not looking at the girl. "I... I heard a scream. And the sound of an impact. I looked out onto the landing... She was already lying there. Fell from the sixth floor. No one else was there."
"He confirms the fact of the fall," Yama Heng summarized dryly. "Voluntary. Suicide. Case closed."
"Wait," Lin Wei took a step toward the witness. His mind was racing. Scream. Sound of impact. Looked out... ALREADY lying. "You said you 'heard a scream AND the sound of an impact,' and then 'looked out' and saw her lying down. Question: how much time passed between the sound of the impact and the moment you looked out?"
The neighbor-spirit blinked, his image flickering more intensely.
"I... I don't know. A few seconds. Maybe a minute. I was scared..."
"You were scared?" Lin Wei raised an eyebrow. "Scared of what? If you were sure it was suicide, why be afraid?"
"I..."
"Or were you afraid of whoever might have done it?" Lin's voice became sharper, accusatory. He turned to the judge. "Honorable Court, the witness's testimony is contradictory and incomplete. He did not see the actual moment of the fall. He assumes suicide. In the world of the living, this wouldn't be enough even to open a case, let alone issue an eternal sentence!"
A hum rose in the hall. Yama Heng raised his hand, and silence returned. But a cold, focused anger now burned in his eyes.
"You are trying to bring earthly laws into the Heavenly Administration, creature. Our laws are perfect. Our evidence is indisputable. The video-phantom shows her fall. Alone."
"Does the phantom show her face at the moment she left the ground?" Lin pressed on. "Does it show that her hands were free? That there was no one at the window?"
He was going all in. He hadn't seen the phantom. But he knew psychology. He had handled hundreds of "suicide" cases that turned out to be murders. The Diyu system was ossified, bureaucratic. It could miss details.
Yama Heng froze. His fingers tapped on the armrest of his throne. The holographic Karma Calculator above his head flickered, numbers running faster.
"You are requesting a re-analysis of the phantom?" he asked, and for the first time, his voice held something other than boredom.
"I am requesting a full review of the case, considering the possibility of external influence," Lin Wei straightened to his full height. His shadow fell on the trembling Zhang Mei. "According to sub-clause 'G' of the same Article 44, if death occurred as a result of 'temporary clouding of mind caused by the influence of a third party,' the classification changes to 'accident.' The sentence is subject to review."
The silence became deafening. Even Zhang Mei's eternal relapse paused for a second. She stared at the back of this strange living man with wide eyes, in which, for the first time since death, a spark flickered — not of hope. Of astonishment.
Yama Heng closed his eyes. The holographic instrument above him spun, analyzing, comparing, weighing. A minute passed. Two.
He opened his eyes.
"The request... is accepted for consideration. In light of the identified procedural discrepancies and the appearance of a legal defender... the default sentence is suspended. Case #777 is returned for further investigation to the Department of Sudden Deaths. Term — one week by earthly time."
He struck his staff against the dais. A sound like a bell rang through the hall.
"Defender Lin Wei. You have won a delay. Nothing more. At the next hearing, you will have to present evidence for your theory. Otherwise... the sentence will come into force with doubled severity. And for you, this will count as the first failed case."
Lin Wei slowly exhaled. The adrenaline was receding, leaving a slight tremble in his knees. He nodded.
"Understood, Your Honor."
The judge measured him with a long, inscrutable look.
"Curious," he said almost in a whisper, but loudly enough for the whole hall to hear. "An insect that bites the hand crushing it. I wonder if it has the strength to bite 999 more times?"
The hearing was over. The witness-spirit was led away. Zhang Mei disappeared, her image dissolving — likely sent to some temporary storage. The light in the hall dimmed.
Xiao Bai ran up to Lin Wei, his face covered in sweat.
"You... you saw that? You made Yama Heng back down! Half a step, but back down! That's... that's impossible!"
Lin Wei looked at his wrist. The seal pulsed with a soft light, and the numbers had changed: «Defender. Progress: 0.5/1000».
Half a case. For a delay.
He turned and walked towards the exit, feeling the heavy, curious, and hateful gaze of the judge on his back.
The first round was his. But the real battle — finding evidence in hell — was still ahead.