Amid the piercing crash of shattering glass, a glass vat as tall as a man was smashed to pieces by an iron bar. Powdery indigo fuel sprayed from the shattered container, dyeing anyone it splashed blue.
Gram howled hysterically, "Blackwater Blue imported from the Black Spirit Continent! Premium fuel that costs fifty gold coins per pound!"
Gram's eyes turned blood-red. Howling wildly, he pulled a kitchen cleaver from who knew where and lunged at Granta, who was mounted on a fine horse. Before everyone's eyes, Gram swung once, and blood sprayed everywhere. With a single stroke, he beheaded Granta's horse—a steed worth at least a thousand gold coins.
"My horse!" Granta went mad as well. He had only owned this horse for a few hours; it was a gift Hu Xinzhu had bought for him. After all, now that Granta bore the title of Black Thorn Knight, a fine warhorse was indispensable.
But Gram—his son, his only son—had actually killed the first and only warhorse he had ever owned with a single slash!
"I'll fight you to the death!" Blazing with fury, Granta sprang up like a madman and swung his shriveled little fists at Gram. Gritting his teeth, Gram raised the cleaver and hacked down at Granta without the slightest mercy. One blow, blood splashed in all directions. Gram's cleaver severed one of Granta's arms at the shoulder, and blood, along with the twitching arm, crashed heavily onto the ground.
"My hand! Gods, Gram, you dare raise a blade against your own father?" Granta clutched his shoulder desperately and shrieked in disbelief. Although the Western Continent's customs were fierce and fathers and sons turning on one another over family power was hardly uncommon, such things generally happened among noble houses. For merchant families like Granta's, they were exceedingly rare.