Fu Qian's actions looked unbearably sorrowful to the many onlookers.
Old Knight hadn't said a word or shed a single tear from the beginning to the present, but everyone knew he was simply overwhelmed with grief.
His only son had been killed far from home, and his body had never been found. No one could have borne that.
After putting it off for so long, he was finally holding the funeral today. He must have finally given up hope.
"Everyone!"
As the crowd looked on with sympathy, Fu Qian turned around and spoke for the first time.
"Thank you all for coming today."
His voice was hoarse, yet relieved.
"Not long ago, a kind young man was killed, and I went through a difficult time because of it.
"For all this time, because of a faint, unrealistic hope, I never held a funeral for poor Sean...
"Fortunately, something wonderful happened recently—I killed the person who murdered Sean."
Fu Qian's words stirred the crowd visibly, including Sheriff Harry, who was seated in the front row.
With everyone watching, Fu Qian took out a brass-colored revolver and tenderly ran his fingers over its engraved surface.
"With this old friend of mine, I blew that scumbag's heart to pieces."
"He was good at disguising himself, but he still couldn't escape a father's vengeful eye."
A satisfied smile tugged at Fu Qian's lips as he surveyed the crowd and looked over Collins and the others.
"While I'm here, I want to thank my friends. They've shown me so much kindness lately, and helped me make it to this day. Grace, for instance..."
Fu Qian waved to Grace and Veil.
"Thank you for your recommendation. Fine wine really is one of life's greatest pleasures. I almost want to take it with me to the grave."