Amongst the fear that flowed relentlessly within Zheme, there now laid anger.

No sadness...

No pity...

No regret...

Only anger, repulsion, disgust for this old man; supposedly known as his grandfather.

How could someone's mind be this corrupt?

How could someone hold onto a grudge for this long?

His mother had left him at the age of seven?

Well at least she got a chance to leave willingly, Zheme's was forcibly taken away from him.

And his father had hung himself?

That was nothing compared to what both Zheme and his father had to endure.

The whips, the manipulation...if they were for a good cause then perhaps Zheme wouldn't have...