Although there were many things that were awkward and unrealistic about this, he would rather think this way, would rather believe it was brothers turning against each other—Henry Thompson simply could not believe that his own parents wanted to kill him—

At that very moment, the sound of horse hooves, “tat-tat-tat,” mixed with splashes of water, approached from afar.

The sounds of fighting inside the pavilion were clearly audible in the dark, snowy night.

“Brother Yi, run! Father wants to kill you, hurry and run! Brother Yi, it’s me, Grace, hurry and run—”

Clear, real, piercing, and desperate, the voice reached Henry Thompson’s ears.

At that moment, he could no longer hold back his tears—they burst forth uncontrollably.

There was no need to pretend anymore, nor any reason to.

The last shred of his bottom line was broken. At this moment, Henry Thompson’s heart turned cold, his spirit died; in this instant, his heart was ashen and lifeless.

A tiger, no matter how fierce, does not eat its cubs. Yet now, except for Grace, there was not a single person who cared about him!

His father wanted to kill him, his mother ignored him!

His eldest brother was already swinging his blade to kill, and even the uncle who had raised him for twenty years—he wanted to kill him too!

Kill! Kill! Kill!

Nothing but killing!

This world was too cruel, too insane! This world was only fit for killing!

At this moment, Henry Thompson’s heart was completely twisted, boundless hatred sprouted in an instant! The hot blood of the Tyrant Sword Path seemed to ignite in a flash.

Nothing but killing! Kill! No family, no kinship, no friends to speak of!

In this life, he would protect only two people: Grace Thompson, Alice Thompson!

At this moment, Henry Thompson made the firmest decision in his heart!

That heavy, dark figure, carrying a hint of distance and familiarity, rushed forward like the wind. The blade in his hand slashed down mercilessly in an instant.

With one strike, there was no mercy—brotherhood severed, enemies made.

This strike contained not a trace of brotherly affection, nor any old kindness, not even the faintest sense of blood being thicker than water.

This strike came from that man in black—the one whose outline Henry Thompson could recognize even without a mask!

At that moment, the prone Henry Thompson sprang up like a cannonball, the heavy black iron sword on his back, driven by a surge of furious energy, let out a “buzz” and shot forth.

The sword sheath buzzed, the black iron sword trembled violently, and instantly flew into Henry Thompson’s hand.

In this moment, there was no technique, no movement—only the desire to thrust out the fastest sword.

“Whoosh—”

In a flash, with unstoppable force, the long sword, like a thunderbolt, pierced straight through the black-clad man’s neck, right before his stunned, disbelieving eyes.

The man in black was shocked, instinctively moving his head to the side, but the sharp sword still pierced through the black cloth covering his face.

“Rip—”

The black cloth fell away, revealing a familiar face.

Nothing was out of the ordinary—everything was exactly as he had imagined.

The man in black froze for a moment, then slashed down again with his long blade, this time even more ruthless and merciless, not sparing a thought for how Henry Thompson had let him go before!

“Clang—”

Sparks flew. In an instant, both the blade and Edward Thompson himself were sent flying by a single move from Henry Thompson.

“Ah—Edward Thompson, remember this: even in death, I will never let you go!” With a furious roar, Henry Thompson turned his head, tapped his foot, and in a flash appeared at Alice Thompson’s side, ready to take Alice Thompson and escape.

A venomous glare shot from Edward Thompson’s eyes. His eyes flashed with a vicious light, and he immediately pulled out a black hood to cover his head and face. Glancing at the approaching Grace Thompson on horseback, he snorted coldly, “Loose the arrows!”

Instantly, poisoned arrows rained down in a dense volley. In this vast space, with arrows flying everywhere, Henry Thompson had no way to escape.

“Brother Yi, go! The horse—” Grace Thompson spurred her horse forward, charging into the hail of arrows.

Henry Thompson’s face turned pale. “Grace, get out of here—”

Henry Thompson shouted, about to rush to save Grace Thompson, but Alice Thompson immediately grabbed him. “Go!”

At this moment, Helen Thompson had already fallen behind. He glanced at Henry Thompson’s look of despair and heartbreak, bit his jade-like teeth, and said sorrowfully, “Young master, let this servant do one last thing for you…”

A pale green figure seemed to fall from the sky, fiercely embracing Grace Thompson. In an instant, several “puff—puff—” sounds of arrows piercing flesh rang out, as the arrows pierced through Helen Thompson’s beautiful pale green long dress.

Green dress, red blood—strikingly vivid in the dark, snowy night.

“Grace—”

Henry Thompson’s eyes turned blood-red as he stared at the two blood-soaked figures and the fallen horse. He could not help but cry out in grief. In an instant, his body convulsed, but he resolutely turned away. As the warhorse collapsed, Henry Thompson and Alice Thompson sped away at full speed.

A dense volley of arrows shot after them, countless arrows flying toward their backs. Tears streamed down Julia Thompson’s face. “Young master, I’m sorry. In the next life, Julia and her sisters will be your personal maids again.”

The pale red silk in her hand swept through the air, blocking the rain of arrows. In that moment, countless arrows pierced through Julia Thompson’s chest.