"Kneel." The voice was indifferent, but Pang Xingwen's knees went weak. He collapsed onto the carpet with a thud, not daring to look up, his eyes fixed on a pair of black leather shoes. "Father..."
"Who gave you permission to send someone after him?" The voice was calm, yet it carried an innate authority.
"Father, I just wanted to gather some information..." Pang Xingwen explained hastily, his forehead slick with cold sweat. "He killed Zhou Xian, cutting off one of our family's sources of income. I just..."
"Zhou Xian was colluding with the Deceitful God Sect. He deserved to die!"
The voice turned frigid. Something thudded against the floor and came rolling over.
Pang Xingwen's pupils shrank. A pale, severed head had rolled to a stop right in front of him, its wide eyes staring, unable to rest in peace.
"Pang Qi!" he cried out, his voice trembling. "How is he dead!?"
