Ouyang Zuoheng...
He could barely stand straight, carrying a spiked mace as he slowly walked into the torture chamber.
Pan An was tied to a chair. The moment he saw Ouyang Zuoheng, then the spiked mace in his hand, he shook his head.
"Stop hitting me already. What's going on now?"
Ouyang Zuoheng said, "We've figured everything out."
"Huh? Really? Thank heavens... then you can let me... Why are you holding a spiked mace?"
Ouyang Zuoheng said nothing. A dozen or so people filed in behind him, taking seats around the long table until it was completely filled.
Pan An sat in one of the seats, looking around to either side. He had a bad feeling about this.
"My son is dead."
Ouyang Zuoheng raised his head, closed his eyes, and sank into profound grief.
"Dead!?" Pan An froze. His eyes rolled, and he began to cry. "Sob, sob... Heaven envies the gifted, Heaven envies the gifted! Ouyang Fen was my friend. I'm deeply saddened!"
The dozen or so people remained silent. Pan An was the only one fake-crying.
Ouyang Zuoheng said, "My son died horribly. I want revenge for him."
"Revenge! We must have revenge!" Pan An said indignantly. "This is outrageous! Ouyang Fen was such a good man, and they just beat him to death like that. It's utterly outrageous!"
"They said my son committed every evil imaginable—arson, murder, looting, and worse. All the ancient martial arts sects have been secretly celebrating..."
Pan An froze. "Arson, murder, and looting... Well... the dead deserve respect! They still shouldn't celebrate so openly..."
"Hmph!" Ouyang Zuoheng sneered, his eyes full of tears. "My son's dying wish was for me to die before him, so he could become Patriarch."
Pan An shook his head. "Then you don't need to grieve too much.