They Took My Daughter’s Heart

Chapter 005

The bleeding had finally been brought under control, but the damage had already been done. Because of the massive blood loss, Gabby still lay unconscious, her small body wrapped in layers of gauze and emergency blankets. The shallow rise and fall of her chest was the only proof that she was still clinging to life, and even that fragile rhythm looked as though it might vanish at any moment.

Inside the room, the air felt thick and heavy, as if every breath had to push through invisible resistance. The sharp scent of disinfectant mingled with iron-heavy traces of blood that hadn’t yet fully faded. Every disciple present stood tense, their faces tight with worry, anger, and barely restrained fear.

“Teacher,” said Charles Bennett, the Master of Divine Herb Vale, his voice low but urgent. “Junior Sister has lost far too much blood. She needs a transfusion immediately. If we delay any longer, the consequences will be irreversible.”

The moment his words landed, the room erupted.

“I’ll do it!”

“Take mine—use my blood!”

“I’m strong, I can spare plenty!”

“Mine is clean and stable—use mine instead!”

Voices overlapped, rising in desperation. One after another, the Empyreans stepped forward without hesitation, some already rolling up their sleeves, others pressing forward so forcefully that they nearly collided with one another. Rank, cultivation, reputation—none of it mattered in that instant. The only thing that mattered was the fragile life lying on the bed.

Tears streamed down Sophie Walker’s face as she clutched the edge of the bed, her fingers trembling. Her lips quivered before she finally forced the words out.

“My… my daughter has a very rare blood type. Rh-negative. It’s extremely hard to find compatible donors. Even in major hospitals, it’s often a matter of luck. Right now, the only option might be to rush her to a hospital and hope they have some in storage…”

Those words were like a bucket of ice water.

Several disciples froze mid-step. Others frowned deeply.

For common blood types, hospital reserves were usually sufficient. But Rh-negative blood was notoriously scarce. Even with money or influence, there was no guarantee.

“I have it.”

The voice cut through the tension like a blade.

Everyone turned.

Dylan Brooks had already pulled the transfusion equipment toward the bedside, his movements decisive despite the pallor creeping into his own face.

“I’m Rh-negative,” he said calmly. “Use mine. Charles Bennett, you handle the procedure.”

“Yes…!”

The response came almost on instinct. As the Master of the Vale, hailed across the Solaria Republic as a medical sage, Charles Bennett had faced emperors, warlords, and entire councils without flinching. Yet at this moment, as he obeyed Dylan Brooks’s command, his hands trembled ever so slightly.

Half an hour passed in agonizing silence.

Drop by drop, Dylan Brooks’s blood flowed through the tubing and into Gabby’s frail body. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, color began to return to the little girl’s face. The deathly pallor faded into something closer to warmth, fragile but real.

At the same time, Dylan Brooks’s complexion worsened by the minute. The strength seemed to drain from him visibly, until his face was nearly as white as the sheets beneath him.

“Teacher, this is enough,” Charles Bennett said anxiously. “Any more, and your body won’t be able to handle it.”

“It’s not enough,” Dylan Brooks replied, his voice steady despite the dizziness pounding behind his eyes. “Those animals drained over a quart of blood from my daughter. She’s just a child. Keep going. Don’t stop.”

“But your injuries—”

The sentence died in Charles Bennett’s throat when Dylan Brooks lifted his gaze.

There was no rage in that look. No shouting. No hysteria. Just a cold, absolute authority that allowed no argument.

The room fell silent.

Every disciple present burned with fury. Many clenched their fists so tightly that their knuckles turned white. If not for Dylan Brooks’s explicit restraint, Matthew Nolan would have been torn apart on the spot, reduced to nothing but blood and regret.

Such a creature didn’t deserve a swift death.

“You… you people…” Matthew Nolan stammered, his legs shaking so badly he could barely stand. The killing intent filling the room pressed down on him like a physical weight. “Who… who the hell are you?”

“Who are we?”

Marcus Hale, known as the Killing God, bared his teeth in a grim smile. “We’re the ones sending you to hell. You’d better pray my junior sister survives. If she doesn’t, I’ll turn this entire city into a graveyard.”

“You—you’re all insane! Lunatics!” Matthew Nolan shrieked, desperation spilling out in a rush. “Do you have any idea who I am? I’m the eldest son of the Nolan family of Kingsley! My wife is the second daughter of the Hawthorne family of Kingsley! In this city, the Hawthornes control everything! When my wife comes back and sees what you’ve done to me, she’ll make sure you’re all torn apart!”

“You’d better release me now,” he added weakly. “While you still have the chance.”

“You talk too much.”

Dylan Brooks’s voice cut in quietly.

The transfusion had ended. Gabby’s condition had stabilized; she was no longer in immediate danger, though she would need careful treatment and rest for some time.

“Teacher!”

All thirty-six disciples dropped to their knees in unison as Dylan Brooks stood.

He gave a slight nod. “Thomas Reed, take my wife and daughter somewhere safe. Settle them properly.”

Carefully, Thomas Reed lifted Gabby into his arms, treating her as though she were made of glass. He bowed deeply. “Madam, please come with me first.”

“But you—” Sophie Walker said anxiously, tears welling again. “Aren’t you coming with us? The Nolan family and the Hawthorne family… they’re first-tier powers in Kingsley. We can’t afford to provoke them.”

“Go,” Dylan Brooks said softly. “This place isn’t suitable for you or our daughter. Don’t delay. Her injuries are serious and still need proper care.”

He glanced at Charles Bennett. “You go with them. Make sure she recovers fully.”

“Yes.”

The Master of the Vale bowed at a perfect right angle. “Madam, please rest assured. With so many disciples here, nothing will happen to Teacher.”

Sophie Walker looked at Dylan Brooks one last time. There was fear, love, and unbearable reluctance in her eyes—but her daughter’s life came first.

She turned away.

After they left, the room felt colder.

“Teacher,” Marcus Hale asked quietly, “how should we deal with him?”

“He took a drop of my daughter’s blood,” Dylan Brooks said calmly. “I’ll take a thousand from him. Ten thousand. He cut her chest once—I’ll carve his chest a thousand times over.”

His tone was even, almost gentle. Yet the temperature in the room seemed to plummet.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Matthew Nolan screamed. “I’m the heir of the Nolan family! My wife—”

Before he could finish, Dylan Brooks moved.

In a blur, the dagger in Marcus Hale’s hand vanished—and reappeared in Dylan Brooks’s grip. A flash of steel. A wet, choking sound.

Blood sprayed.

Matthew Nolan collapsed in terror, losing control of his body entirely.

The screams echoed endlessly.

His young son, already pale, convulsed violently. Greenish bile spilled from his mouth before his body went limp. He died from sheer terror.

Matthew Nolan’s howls turned hoarse and broken.

Yet Dylan Brooks’s eyes held no pity.

When his daughter’s heart had been carved out, that boy had watched without a trace of compassion.

“Does it hurt?” Dylan Brooks asked softly, his smile like that of a demon. “Your son’s life counts, but my daughter’s doesn’t? When you ordered her heart taken, did your wife know?”

“She… she knew…” Matthew Nolan gasped.

“Good.”

Dylan Brooks’s smile deepened. “Then the Nolan family and the Hawthorne family can go to hell together.”

This empty hell needed to be filled—with lives like theirs.

With a single motion, Dylan Brooks seized Matthew Nolan by the throat and hurled him out like a dead dog.

“Hang him at the villa gate,” he said coldly. “Notify the Nolan family to come collect him. Then send the child’s corpse to the Hawthorne family.”