Chapter 1128 Who Cares Who You Are

• A wet splash echoed as Torin yanked the saber free. He accepted a white silk handkerchief from a retainer, wiping the sticky droplets from his cheeks with slow, unhurried strokes—like a painter cleaning his brushes after finishing a pleasant landscape.
• Grant's pupils dilated. No sound left his throat. He staggered once, collapsed, and a widening pool of red crawled across the black-stone floor, staining the solemn hall.
• "With a hiss, Grant's spirit tore itself from his corpse, racing for freedom—only to be snatched mid-air by Jude Whitlock, the white-haired elder on the dais. Jude's fingers closed, and the soul shattered into glittering shards no larger than dust motes.In a single breath, a family patriarch ceased to exist."