"But Fourth Uncle, the Patriarch said..."

  Vorgas scoffed, his booming voice cutting through the rain. "The Thorne estate is practically empty. Why bother with his caution? I’ll explain it to Varick myself!"

  Abandoning their room-by-room search, he and his men marched directly toward the Thorne family Sanctum. They reached the courtyard in moments. The Sanctum doors stood wide open, offering an unobstructed view of the interior. Any lingering caution in Vorgas’s mind vanished the moment his eyes locked onto the Ancient Yew standing within. As he watched, the tree's branches and leaves began to emit a soft, pulsing luminescence. Vorgas stared, his eyes gleaming with naked greed.

  "Look, Fourth Uncle! The tree is glowing!" one of his men shouted.

  "I’m not blind!" Vorgas snapped. He had heard rumors of a Guardian Tree, but he hadn't expected a genuine treasure. If he secured it first, he might even be able to claim it for his own cultivation. Grinning, he stepped toward the Sanctum.

  But after barely two steps, the emerald glow abruptly vanished. Vorgas froze, disoriented by the sudden darkness. In that same heartbeat, his pulse spiked as a lethal sense of crisis flared in his mind.

  Above me!

  Reacting on pure instinct, Vorgas threw himself into a desperate roll. But Caleb Thorne’s ambush had been meticulously planned. Before Vorgas could fully clear the strike zone, a fist wreathed in immense blood energy slammed into his back, sending the massive man flying.

  The moment Caleb struck, Thorne warriors erupted from the shadows all around the Sanctum, swarming the remaining Lee soldiers. They moved with lethal precision, each locking onto a target they could handle.

  "An ambush! You bastards!" the other Bronze-rank master with Vorgas roared. He drew breath to shout for reinforcements, but a vicious spear thrust forced him into a desperate defense.

  "Ewan Thorne!" the master hissed, recognizing his attacker. The two clashed instantly, steel ringing out over the pouring rain.

  Meanwhile, Vorgas scrambled to his feet, spitting a mouthful of blood. He glared at Caleb. "Caleb Thorne! You’ve reached late-stage Blood Condensation?" A surge of relief washed over him at the weight of his Azure Serpent Hide armor. If not for that protective vest, Caleb’s blow—even a glancing one—would have shattered his spine.

  Caleb didn't waste breath on words. He lunged again, his fists a blur of motion. The rest of the Lee forces would arrive soon; he had to end this quickly.

  The sounds of battle quickly echoed across the estate. Varick Lee, sweeping another sector, halted. He had assumed the noise was just Vorgas being reckless, but as the distinct screams of his own clansmen reached his ears, his face paled.

  "To the Sanctum!" Varick roared, leading his men at a sprint. He realized now that the Thornes hadn't fled—they had stayed to fight.

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  But as he neared the Sanctum, the sharp whistle of a blade forced him to a halt. A familiar figure stood in his path.

  "Elias Thorne," Varick hissed.

  "Patriarch, let us handle him together!" a Lee warrior suggested.

  Varick shook his head, his eyes turning cold. "No. I will deal with him. Go assist the others." Varick knew that as long as the Thorne captains were pinned down, his superior numbers would eventually crush them. He didn't know why the Thornes had chosen to make a stand, but he was certain a mere ambush wouldn't bridge the gap in their strength.

  ***

  The battle intensified the moment the other Lee teams converged on the Sanctum. They found Vorgas buckling under Caleb’s ferocious assault. If they had arrived a heartbeat later, Vorgas might have lost his life.

  While Vorgas struggled to survive, the men who had entered the courtyard with him were already dead, including the other Bronze-rank master. They had been cut down by Silas Thorne, who wielded the Revenant—the ancestral puppet of the House—with grim efficiency.

  The sight of the carnage sent the Lee reinforcements into a blood-crazed frenzy. Drawing their weapons, they charged into the fray. Blood mixed with rainwater, forming thin crimson threads that flowed through the cracks in the flagstones and soaked deep into the earth.

  Beneath the soil, York’s roots twitched. With a sense of trepidation, he extended a root to touch the blood-soaked water.

  I can't absorb it, York realized.

  A wave of relief washed over him, followed by a strange sense of liberation. Though he was now a tree, he wasn't truly a monster. He had feared becoming a slave to the desire for blood, unable to stop himself once he started. The fact that he couldn't siphon the diluted blood from the mud proved his "hunger" still had boundaries.

  "Caspian, have you picked a target yet?" In a dark corner near the Sanctum, Cedric gripped his mountain-cleaver, whispering over the rain.

  "Almost!" Caspian peered through the downpour. He saw late-stage Iron warriors everywhere. Even the weakest enemies were at the mid-stage. The two boys, barely at the early-stage themselves, felt their initial bravado cooling into stark fear.

  Suddenly, a Lee warrior stumbled toward their hiding spot—a mid-stage Iron warrior who had just been knocked back by a Thorne captain. Spotting the two boys, the man grinned savagely.

  "Two Thorne brats! Your lives are mine!" He swung a heavy saber straight for them.

  The boys scrambled back, their faces pale. Caspian wanted to tell Cedric to run, but Cedric’s eyes hardened. "Caspian, him! Let's take him!"

  The two boys charged together. They were young, but they were still warriors. However, they quickly learned that two novices were no match for a veteran. After barely three clashes, the Lee warrior had kicked both of them aside. As the man closed in for the kill, the ground beneath him suddenly shifted.

  Before he could react, a root as thick as a rope erupted from the earth and coiled tightly around his waist.

  "What is this?!" the man screamed, struggling against the crushing grip.

  Caspian and Cedric didn't hesitate. Seeing the enemy immobilized, their blood boiled with a mix of terror and adrenaline. There was no grand final strike—they simply lunged forward and buried their blades into the man’s chest and gut.

  "Caspian, run! We have to go!"

  As the root retracted into the earth, the Lee warrior collapsed, gasping his last breath. The two boys didn't stay to celebrate; they turned and fled back into the shadows.

  From within the Sanctum, York watched them go in silence. He had expected them to be paralyzed by fear, but they had shown a surprising, albeit messy, ruthlessness. He was glad he had intervened.

  However, York also realized a glaring limitation. His reinforced roots were effective against Iron-rank warriors, but they were still too slow and weak to truly threaten a Bronze-rank master. If he wanted to save the Thorne family, he would have to rely on more than just his roots.