From a distance, Henry Thompson heard Julia Thompson's heartfelt words completely, and an inexplicable, extreme pain welled up inside him. Overwhelming hatred and a tremendous psychological distortion made his fists clench tightly, tighter and tighter...

...

Night. Wind and snow.

"Reporting to master, all attics have been searched, nothing found!"

"Reporting to master, all rooms have been searched, nothing found!"

"Reporting to master, all..."

Edward Thompson looked grimly at the several people lying in pools of blood around him, the gloom on his face unmistakable.

"Set fire, burn the manor!"

"Yes, master!"

Countless barrels of oil were poured all over the manor, and at a single command, the fire began to blaze.

In moments, the entire manor was engulfed in roaring flames.

Within the flames, a green robe streaked with blood rolled and writhed, pushing the person beneath it to the side of the snowy ditch. Then, a blood-stained pale hand finally fell limp.

At that moment, the wind and snow grew even fiercer...

Chapter 015: The Transformation of the Heart

The world was frozen, the night as black as hell.

Henry Thompson and Alice Thompson, braving the howling northern wind and heavy, goose-feather snow, struggled to escape into the depths of the dark forest ahead.

As long as they entered the forest, they would be safe.

Although there might also be ambushes in the forest, once inside, Henry Thompson could at least ensure that he would no longer be threatened by archers.

And as long as the threat of archers was removed, Henry Thompson cared nothing for any other danger.

A thick layer of snow had already covered his whole body. With the intense movement and the consumption of his inner energy, the snow quickly melted under the heat, soaking through Henry Thompson's already thin clothes and drenching him completely.

The biting wind howled ceaselessly in his face, and the waves of extreme cold constantly assaulted Henry Thompson's already taut nerves, making him realize that everything tonight was no mere nightmare!

Although Henry Thompson felt some anger at Emily Thompson's betrayal, the final scene he witnessed instantly dispelled his rage. In fact, because of their deaths, a powerful sense of guilt began to grow within Henry Thompson.

His mood was heavy, his body alternating between hot and cold. A fierce gust of wind struck, making Henry Thompson shiver uncontrollably, and his heart wrenched in pain.

"Fu'er, only you and Uncle Ke are the ones I, Henry Thompson, must protect. Now that you are dead, I, Henry Thompson, will definitely avenge you!" Henry Thompson vowed resolutely in his heart. At this moment, his eyes were filled with a blood-red light of hatred, and the murderous intent radiating from him made even the snowflakes nearby tremble.

"Young master, once we reach the front, let's find a big tree, climb up to the branches, and hide our presence. Then we'll be safe. On such a dark night, they won't pursue us further." Alice Thompson turned back to glance at Henry Thompson. Although the darkness made it hard to see clearly, the resentment and murderous intent were felt by Alice Thompson with absolute clarity!

"Ah—" Thinking of Grace Thompson, and of the countless arrows piercing Helen Thompson's chest, and the moment when both Helen Thompson and Grace Thompson fell from their horses, the grief in Henry Thompson's heart suddenly expanded without limit. Unable to suppress it, he let out a mad, anguished roar that echoed through the pitch-black, snowy night.

"Young master, young master..." At this moment, Alice Thompson was also weeping bitterly, his heart filled with boundless sorrow. As a steward, he had seen much—the darkness of society, the bloodshed of the martial world... But the scene he had just witnessed was something even Alice Thompson could not accept.

The eldest young lady was dead, the three personal maids and future concubines were also dead, and the assassin turned out to be Edward Thompson!

Such a cruel reality left Alice Thompson chilled to the core.

But now, the young master's howl would surely expose their position, and the two of them would likely fall into a passive situation again.

He did not care if he died, but the young master...

At this moment, Alice Thompson was truly worried.

...

The fire raged on until midnight.

Lying by the now-frozen ditch, Grace Thompson's clothes were in tatters, and even her beautiful hair was mostly burned, leaving her looking quite disheveled.

The blood from Helen Thompson on her body had already congealed into crimson clots, so that the blood-stained parts were not consumed by the flames.

Her whole body was burning with fever and weakness, her eyelids felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, and the sides of her temples throbbed and ached intensely, letting Grace Thompson know she had caught a chill.

Burning with fever and powerless, she looked at Helen Thompson lying not far away, his body already stiff and his face deathly pale, and sorrow welled up in Grace Thompson's heart.

"Brother..." she murmured, and tears immediately wet her cheeks, mixing with the melting snow so that it was impossible to tell tears from snow.

Water trickled into her mouth, deep into her throat, bitter and metallic.

Her voice was hoarse and weak. Looking at the sword beside her, Grace Thompson struggled to grasp it in her hand, then braced herself against the ground and, with great effort, knelt upright.