“After all, Hunter was my only son… he was my child,” Jerome said, his voice trembling.

Eric screamed, completely unhinged. “Shut up, you bastard! You don’t deserve to call yourself Hunter’s father! Otherwise, back then, you wouldn’t have abandoned your own son just to save someone else’s!"

"The Lloyds were all the way up in Chetvine. What could you even do when you got there? You’ve been like this your whole life, throwing yourself into everyone else’s battles. For your so-called friends, for your so-called principles… You’d even give your life without hesitation."

“But when it came to your own family, to the people closest to you, you were harsh, cold, and never gave us even a shred of warmth! Hunter died, and I became what I am today, all because of you!”

Tears streamed down Eric’s face as he spoke, his voice raw with pain.

At that moment, something clicked in Andrew’s mind.

Ten years ago, Jerome’s son, Hunter, had fallen into the deadly hands of the Assassin’s Guild in Basoria, his life hanging by a thread. At the same time, Jerome received a desperate letter from Reginald.

Without a second thought, Jerome chose to head north to Chetvine instead of west. In the end, Hunter died tragically.

All this time, that choice had been a thorn in Eric’s heart, festering in silence. That was why he chose betrayal today, stabbing Jerome just as they gained the upper hand. He was using pain to repay pain.

Eric was both pitiful and tragic.

Andrew had been ready to kill him moments ago, but now his emotions twisted into something much more complicated. He realized he owed a debt to too many people.

Women like Tiana and Victoria had treated him like their own, giving him nothing but genuine love. And now, Jerome, a famed master, a martial icon, had once risked everything by going to Chetvine to help Andrew and Reginald escape.

He had lost his own son because of it.

Whether they knew Andrew’s true identity or not, these people had helped him, directly or indirectly.

Andrew took a deep breath and made a decision. No matter what happened today, he would help Jerome escape. At the very least, he would not let Jerome die right in front of him.

Jerome said quietly, “Eric… I don’t blame you. If your hatred for me runs that deep, then go ahead–do it yourself.”

Without even flinching, he yanked the dagger out of his stomach and held it out.

Henry and the others stayed silent. They remained alert, but they did not interrupt. After all, in the south of Holtrien, Jerome was a legendary figure. If they pushed him too far and showed no mercy, the backlash afterward would still be substantial.

Grace let out a soft sigh. “Let’s all step back. Mr. Thornton has already lost the strength to fight.”

Edwin nodded. “Right. Mr. Thornton’s family matters should be handled by them.”

Henry frowned and gave Eric a long look. In the end, he said nothing and took two steps back.

Eric snatched the dagger from Jerome’s hand and pressed it toward his chest, eyes blazing with fury. “You really think I don’t have the guts to kill you, huh?”

Jerome closed his eyes, ready to die. “Go on then. I know you want to avenge Hunter. When you were just a baby, I took you in. And that year… that was also the year Hunter was born. I raised you both as my sons, with no difference between you two. But I never imagined this would be how it ends.”

Eric’s hand clenched the dagger so tightly that the veins bulged along his wrist, sharp and blue like twisted roots. “Shut up! Just shut up! You think this matters now? I don’t want to hear another word. I’m going to kill you!”

His eyes went cold, and the blade moved.