The fishing depot stank of rotting fish and seawater. I tested the chains binding my wrists again, feeling them bite into my skin. Across from me, Michael Ashworth sat still as a statue, his dignified presence undiminished despite his captivity. Isabelle was beside him, her eyes darting between her grandfather and me.


    "Liam," she whispered, "are you okay?"


    I nodded, careful not to draw attention from our captors. Brandon Lee paced before us, a cruel smile ying on his lips as he barked orders at his men. Six Grandmasters stood guard—serious firepower for three prisoners.


    "My uncle is going to regret trying to stop this," Brandon sneered. "When I''m done with you three, North Province Ind will be known as the ce where even Ashworths aren''t untouchable."


    Michael Ashworth hadn''t spoken since our capture. His silence seemed to infuriate Brandon more than any resistance would have.


    "Nothing to say, old man?" Brandon taunted, leaning into Michael''s face. "No pleas for mercy? No Ashworth threats?"


    Michael''s eyes remained fixed straight ahead, as if Brandon were beneath his notice.


    Brandon''s face flushed with anger. "You mainders think you''re better than everyone. Time to learn some respect."


    He turned to Morales, a stocky man with cold eyes. "Has my uncle called again?"


    Morales checked his phone. "No, sir."


    "Good." Brandon''s grin widened as he circled back to stand before us. "That means we have time for some... entertainment."


    My muscles tensed as I watched his gaze shift to Isabelle. Something predatory entered his expression.


    "You know," Brandon said, looking her up and down, "I might be willing to let you all go... for a price."


    Isabelle stiffened. "What price?"


    Brandon''s smile turned vulgar. "A night with the Ashworth princess. I''ve heard mainder women are quite... amodating when properly motivated."


    Rage flowed through me like moltenva. I could feel my energy surging, threatening to break free.


    "You will not touch her," I said, my voice deadly calm.


    Brandonughed. "Or what,pdog? You''re chained up and surrounded. What exactly do you think you can do?"


    I met his gaze steadily. "Thest man who threatened her is dead."


    "Is that so?" Brandon moved closer. "Well, I''m not just any man. I control this ind now."


    "Brandon," Morales warned, "maybe we should wait for—"


    "Shut up!" Brandon snapped. "I''m tired of waiting."


    He stepped toward Isabelle, reaching for her face. "What do you say, princess? Save your grandfather and your pet? One night isn''t much to ask."


    The dam broke inside me. Golden energy erupted from my core, flooding through my limbs. With a roar, I pulled against the chains. Metal groaned, then snapped with a sound like thunder.


    Brandon stumbled backward, eyes wide with shock. "What the—"


    I lunged forward, free of my restraints. The nearest guard moved to intercept me, but I was faster. My fist connected with his jaw, sending him crashing into the wall.


    "Kill him!" Brandon screamed.


    Two more guards rushed me. I ducked under the first attack, driving my elbow into the attacker''s ribs. Bone cracked beneath the impact. The second guard managed tond a blow to my shoulder, but I barely felt it through the rage fueling me.


    "He''s only Third Rank!" one of the guards shouted in disbelief as I knocked him down.


    The fourth guard, a Third Rank Grandmaster, circled me warily. "Stay back," he warned the others. "Let me handle this." This copy was generated from content at *.


    He attacked with precision, his movements betraying years of training. But I was beyond such concerns now. As his fist came within inches of my face, I caught his wrist, twisting until bones snapped. His scream echoed through the warehouse as I drove my knee into his chest.


    "Morales!" Brandon''s voice had risen to a panicked pitch. "Do something!"


    The stocky man stepped forward with casual confidence. "Enough games."


    Unlike the others, Morales moved with the fluid grace of a true master. An Eighth Rank Grandmaster, at least. He struck like lightning, his fist connecting with my chest and sending me sliding backward across the concrete floor.


    Pain bloomed in my ribs, but I refused to fall. I regained my footing and charged again, golden energy swirling around my fists.


    "Impressive for a Third Rank," Morales noted, blocking my strikes with apparent ease. "But futile."


    His counterattack came without warning—a palm strike that caught me square in the sr plexus. Air rushed from my lungs as I crashed into a stack of fishing crates.


    "Liam!" Isabelle cried out.


    I pushed myself up, spitting blood. My vision blurred, but I forced myself to stand.


    "Stay down, boy," Morales advised. "No shame in knowing when you''re outmatched."


    "Never," I growled, gathering what energy I had left.


    Brandon had retreated to the far wall, phone in hand. "I''m calling for backup," he shouted to Morales. "Finish him!"


    Morales sighed, as if disappointed by my stubbornness. He moved forward, hands positioning for what would surely be a devastating strike.


    I braced myself, knowing I couldn''t withstand another hit of that magnitude but refusing to yield.


    The warehouse doors exploded inward with a deafening crash.


    Everyone froze, turning toward the source of the disruption. A tall figure stood silhouetted against the afternoon light.


    "What the hell?" Brandon stammered.


    The neer stepped inside, his expensive suit immacte despite the dust swirling around him. His cold eyes surveyed the scene with deadly precision.


    "Morales," the man said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority, "step away from him."


    Recognition dawned on Morales''s face, followed quickly by fear. "Mr. Ashworth?"


    Brandon''s confusion turned to horror. "Ashworth? As in—"


    "Corbin Ashworth," the man confirmed, advancing into the warehouse with measured steps. "I believe you''re holding my father."


    Michael Ashworth''s expression remained unchanged, but Isabelle gasped.


    "Uncle Corbin?"


    Morales backed away from me, hands raised. "Mr. Ashworth, this is a misunderstanding. We were just—"


    He never finished the sentence. Corbin moved with blinding speed, covering the distance between them in an instant. His foot connected with Morales''s chest in a perfect crescent kick.


    The impact lifted Morales off his feet and sent him crashing into the far wall. Something vital shattered within him—I could sense it, the breaking of his dantian, his power center.


    Morales slid to the floor, eyes wide with shock. "My... my core..."


    "Consider yourself fortunate," Corbin said coldly. "If my father had been harmed, I would have taken more than your cultivation."


    Brandon had pressed himself against the wall, terror evident in every line of his body. The remaining guards stood frozen, unwilling to move and draw attention to themselves.


    Corbin turned slowly, his gaze finding Brandon. "You must be the nephew."


    Brandon''s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before words came. "Please... I didn''t know... I didn''t realize who they were..."


    "A lie," Corbin stated tly. "You knew exactly who they were. That''s why you took them."


    He walked toward Brandon with the casual menace of a predator who knows its prey cannot escape. "My name is Corbin Ashworth. Have you heard of me?"