Zong Xingyu quietly stood in the same place, with his chest rising and falling; his face red, and the veins on his forehead popping out. He was gasping heavily, and his face looked extremely evil and fierce.
He stood calmly for a while, but all of a sudden, he rushed over to those altars like a crazy man. He shouted to the sixty-three people who were silently sitting around the altars.
"Uncle Wang San! Uncle Wang San! Look at me! Please look at me! I am Xingyu! I am Xingyu…"
The man he was shouting at still sat like a machine with two full gray eyes. He didn't move as if he could hear nothing.
"Uncle Li! Uncle Li…"
"Uncle Dao… Uncle Dao…"
"Uncle Qian, Uncle Qian, please…"
Zong Xingyu shouted at those people one by one, yet he got no response at all.
