In the dream he had fallen into, his father had clearly been a Titled Douluo, one of the continent's foremost powerhouses. How could his cultivation have been crippled, leaving him chained here like livestock?
Tang San stared fixedly at the person atop the platform. He wanted to rush up there, to sweep aside that tangled hair and confirm whether it was his father's face.
But his feet felt as heavy as lead, utterly unable to move.
He saw two elderly men in black robes standing on either side of the platform. Their auras were as still and imposing as mountains. Though they had not deliberately released their Soul Power, the faint pressure radiating from them made it difficult for him to move.
With the memories of becoming a god, Tang San instantly judged that these two were at least Soul Douluo-level powerhouses!
With his current strength, even if he had Dean Flender step in, he stood no chance against two Soul Douluos.
If he made even the slightest rash move, he would likely be killed in an instant.
Yet the mockery and pointing from the people around him pierced his heart like needles.
"Look at that pathetic state of his. And they call him the Clear Sky Douluo? He looks like nothing but a coward to me!"
"I heard that the Clear Sky Sect back then was no good either. They did plenty of heartless things. Looks like the rumors were true."
"Now he's been hung up here for public display. He deserves it!"
Every word was like a heavy hammer smashing fiercely into Tang San's chest.
His eyes turned bloodshot as a towering rage surged from the depths of his heart, nearly burning away all reason.
Kill!
He wanted to kill!
He wanted to slaughter every one of those