I hung suspended from the ceiling, iron chains biting into my wrists. Blood trickled down my arms, but I refused to show weakness.


    Gage Mcbride circled me like a vulture, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "The great Liam Knight," he sneered, "not so powerful now, are you?"


    I met his gaze steadily. "If you''re trying to intimidate me, you''ll need to try harder."


    His smile vanished. With a sharp gesture, he activated the formation beneath my feet. The ground glowed with intricate patterns that pulsed with malevolent energy.


    "This special formation was designed just for you," Gage said. "Conrad Thornton was very specific about how he wanted you to suffer."


    The air around me shimmered as the formation came fully alive. Giant des of energy materialized, hovering around my suspended body.


    "Let''s see how tough you really are," Gage whispered.


    With a flick of his wrist, the first de shed across my chest. I braced for searing pain, but surprisingly, it left only a white mark on my skin.


    Gage frowned. "What the hell?"


    I couldn''t help but smile despite my predicament. My body had grown incredibly resilient through my recent cultivation breakthroughs.


    "Disappointed?" I asked.


    Rage shed in Gage''s eyes. "Don''t get cocky. I''m just warming up."


    He intensified the formation, and the energy in the room grew oppressive. The next de that struck me cut deeper, finally breaking my skin. A thin line of blood appeared across my torso.


    "There we go," Gage said with satisfaction. "Everyone bleeds eventually."


    My jaw tightened as pain radiated through my body, but I refused to cry out. "Is this the best the Veridia City Martial Guild can do?"


    Gage''s eye twitched with annoyance. He walked to a nearby table and lifted something that looked like a whip, but it glowed with an unnatural blue light.


    "This is called a Spirit Whip," he exined, running his fingers along its length. "It doesn''t just tear your flesh. It damages your spirit. Even if you survive, you''ll never be the same."


    I steeled myself, knowing what wasing. The whip cracked through the air, striking my back with explosive force.


    The pain was unlike anything I''d ever experienced. It wasn''t just physical—it felt like something was being torn from inside me. I bit down hard on my lip, tasting blood as I fought to remain silent.


    "That was just onesh," Gage said, circling behind me again. "I wonder how many you can take before you beg for mercy?"


    The whip struck again, and this time I couldn''t contain a grunt of pain. The thirdsh came faster, then the fourth. By the fifth, my vision was blurring.


    "Tenshes is usually where most men start pleading for death," Gagemented casually.


    Blood ran freely down my back, soaking into my tattered clothes. My breathing grew ragged as the whip continued its brutal work. Tenshes became fifteen, then twenty.


    Through the haze of pain, I focused on a single thought: survival. Isabelle needed me. I couldn''t die here.


    "Twenty-fiveshes," Gage announced, sounding impressed despite himself. "You''re still conscious. Conrad was right to fear your potential."


    My head hung low, but my eyes remained open. Blood dripped from my chin onto the floor, joining the growing pool beneath me.


    "I have to admit," Gage continued, "most men would have broken by now. What drives you, Knight? What keeps you hanging on?"


    Images shed through my mind: Isabelle''s smile, ra''s innocent face, the promises I''d made, the enemies still to defeat.


    "You wouldn''t understand," I managed to say, my voice hoarse but steady.


    "Let''s try for thirty," Gage decided, raising the whip again.


    The next fiveshes came in rapid session, each one feeling like it might be the one to finally break me. My consciousness flickered, darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision.


    After the thirtiethsh, Gage paused, breathing heavily from exertion. "Enough ying around. Time to finish this."


    He moved to stand in front of me, raising the whip one final time. "Conrad wanted your spirit crushed before your death. I''d say mission aplished."


    The whip arced toward my head, aiming for a fatal blow.


    I closed my eyes, summoning thest of my strength to defend myself, knowing it wouldn''t be enough.


    The crack of the whip echoed through the chamber—but the pain never came.


    I forced my eyes open to see a hand gripping the end of the Spirit Whip, stopping it inches from my face. The hand belonged to a tall, imposing man dressed in the distinctive clothes of the Ashworth family.


    "That''s quite enough," the man said coldly.


    Gage stumbled backward. "Who—who are you?"


    "Caspian Kane, of the Ashworth Family," he replied, his voice calm but threatening. "And you''re torturing someone under our protection."


    Before Gage could respond, the door burst open again. Framed in the doorway stood Isabelle Ashworth, her face a perfect mask ofposure—until her eyes found me.


    The color drained from her face as she took in my blood-soaked form hanging from the chains. Her elegant hands trembled slightly at her sides.


    "Liam," she whispered, her voice barely audible.


    I tried to smile, to show her I was still fighting, but even that small movement sent waves of pain through my battered body.


    Isabelle''s shock quickly transformed. Her eyes narrowed, her posture straightened, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.


    "Release him," shemanded, her voice now deadly quiet. "Now."


    Gage looked between Isabelle and Caspian, finally realizing the gravity of his situation.


    "Miss Ashworth," he stammered, "there''s been a misunderstanding. This man was sentenced by the Thornton family—"


    "Did I ask for excuses?" Isabelle cut him off, her tone so icy it could have frozen fire.


    Caspian moved to the wall where the chain controls were located and lowered me slowly to the ground. My legs buckled as my feet touched the floor, and he caught me before I could copse.


    "Easy," he murmured, supporting my weight.


    Isabelle approached me, her expensive shoes clicking against the stone floor. She stopped just before me, her eyes taking in every cut, every bruise, every drop of blood.


    "Can you stand?" she asked softly.


    "For you? Always," I managed to reply, straightening slightly despite the agony coursing through my body.


    A ghost of a smile touched her lips before she turned back to Gage, who was now visibly trembling.


    "You seem to have misunderstood who Liam Knight is," she said, walking slowly toward him. "So let me educate you. This man saved my life. He stands under the full protection of the Ashworth family."


    Each step she took forced Gage to retreat until his back hit the wall.


    "Miss Ashworth, please," he pleaded. "I was just following orders." <dfn ss="meta-ref-static">Help us continue by reading at the source: *.</dfn>


    "The Nuremberg defense," I muttered through gritted teeth. "How original."


    Isabelle continued as if she hadn''t heard either of us. "Do you know what happens to people who harm those under Ashworth protection?"


    Gage swallowed hard. "I—I''m a representative of the Veridia City Martial Guild. You can''t—"


    "Can''t what?" Isabelle''s voice was soft but carried an unmistakable threat. "Can''t make you disappear? Can''t ensure that your name is forgotten within a week? Can''t have your family cklisted from every institution in this country?"


    She leaned closer to him. "Test me and find out."


    I watched her with a mixture of awe and gratitude. This was a side of Isabelle I''d rarely seen—the full power of her position as an Ashworth princess unleashed in cold fury.


    "Caspian," she said without turning around, "prepare a car. We''re taking Liam back to the vi immediately."


    "Yes, Miss Ashworth," he replied, carefully transferring my weight to another guard who had entered.


    Isabelle finally turned away from Gage, who slumped against the wall in relief. But as she passed me, she paused.


    "On second thought," she said, looking back at Gage with newfound purpose. "Before we leave, there''s something I need to do."


    She walked back to the table where the Spirit Whip stilly and picked it up, examining it with clinical detachment.


    "An interesting weapon," she observed. "Designed to cause maximum pain to both body and spirit, you said?"


    Gage''s eyes widened in horror. "Miss Ashworth, please—"


    "Thirtyshes, wasn''t it?" Isabelle interrupted, testing the whip with a flick of her wrist. "That seems appropriate."


    Caspian stepped forward. "Miss Isabelle, the car is ready. We should get Mr. Knight medical attention as soon as possible."


    For a moment, Isabelle seemed torn, the whip still gripped tightly in her hand. Then she looked at me, and her expression softened marginally.


    "You''re right," she conceded, dropping the whip. "Liam''s wellbeinges first."


    She stepped close to Gage onest time. "But don''t think this is over. The punishment for what you''ve done wille, and when it does, you''ll long for something as merciful as this whip."


    As Caspian and another guard helped me toward the door, Isabelle walked beside me, her hand hovering near mine as if afraid to touch me and cause more pain.


    "I''m sorry I didn''te sooner," she whispered.


    "You came," I replied weakly. "That''s all that matters."


    At the doorway, Isabelle stopped and turned back one final time. Gage still stood frozen against the wall, relief and fear battling on his face.


    "Gage Mcbride," she said, her body trembling slightly with the force of her contained fury. Her eyes locked with his, cold as winter frost and twice as deadly. "Remember my face. Remember this moment. Because I swear to you, I will never forgive you for what you''ve done here today."


    The threat hung in the air, a promise of vengeance that sent visible shivers through Gage''s body.


    With that, Isabelle turned away, her attention fully returning to me as we left the chamber behind. But the look in her eyes had made one thing abundantly clear—Gage Mcbride''s days were numbered, and when his reckoning came, it would be delivered by the elegant hand of Isabelle Ashworth herself.