Quinton did not stop after slapping Harvey. Still filled with aggression, he turned around and violently beat down the Weller family thug who had attacked the Stevens earlier. He did not let up until Christina finally shouted, "Quinton, our family appreciates what you have done. But right now, Leroy needs to get to the hospital!" Only then did Quinton stop, turning to Harvey with a fierce warning, "Remember, there better not be a next time. If there is, I promise your entire Weller family will pay!" Harvey was beyond furious. He had shown up today in good faith, just trying to help Quinton stage his little performance. He willingly played along just to make Quinton look good, but he never imagined he would end up being the victim himself. This whole act was turning into nothing but a massive loss for him. Andrew clapped sarcastically again, grinning as he said, "Bravo, Quinton, bravo! You did not hesitate to throw Harvey under the bus to look cool! "Other guys show off by
With both palms slamming forward, Andrew unleashed a terrifying force, blasting straight at Ian and Ted like a crashing tidal wave. Blood splattered, and screams pierced the air. One of the elders, who had actually reached peak grandmaster level, was sent flying with blood gushing from his mouth—completely overwhelmed. In just one move, Andrew had struck both of them down effortlessly. Harvey's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. He could hardly believe it—those two elders were the backbone of the Weller family, and they were taken down just like that. With just one strike, both were defeated. The rest of the Weller family, who had started charging forward, immediately froze. Fear took hold, and they backed away in panic, too afraid to even try another step. Even Quinton narrowed his eyes, frowning as he glanced at Andrew. He wondered if Andrew had already surpassed the grandmaster level. If so, did that mean he had reached the level of a semi-martial king? No. Tha
Tears of humiliation welled up in Shawn's eyes as he clenched his teeth and muttered, "Got it!" Andrew slapped him again, harder this time. "I didn't ask if you got it. I asked if it's okay." The weight of shame nearly crushed Shawn from the inside out. Nonetheless, he did not dare resist. He did not even flinch as he squeezed out, "Okay!" No one missed how low he had sunk. Even Quinton, the proud heir of Blumedale, had lost all his swagger, and now Shawn had no one to count on. He was completely on his own. Andrew looked down at him and said coldly, "You can fuck off now." Shawn acted like he had just been pardoned from death row. He scrambled to his feet and bolted straight back to the Fields family. From that day on, he swore he would check the stars before leaving his house, and he would make damn sure Andrew was not in the same zip code. If their paths might cross, he would rather stay home or take a two-hour detour. "Alright, Fran, let's go," Andrew said, brushing o
In Blumedale, Michael's funeral, arranged by Kenny, had already ended, yet Andrew never showed up. Kenny and Sherilyn grew furious, and Sherilyn, backed by the Goldings, boldly offered 300 million dollars to launch a vendetta against Andrew. The entire Blumedale power structure buzzed with rumors and speculation, wondering what kind of man from Jayrodale had incited the wrath of the Rhodes family elder and the Goldings. The so-called family vendetta was a killing order issued by the top-tier families, a deadly move targeting an enemy's life. Once activated, anyone allied with those families could hunt down the fugitive for the 300 million dollar reward, and if successful, the money would be theirs. With the combined might of these influential families and their alliances, the order was terrifying, as being targeted meant being hunted by a dozen or more powerful houses, a true death sentence. Tiana personally called Andrew to warn him that he either had to hide out in Jayrodale
Andrew replied calmly, "Plan on coming? Oh, no… I'm already on my way." Tiana inhaled sharply, completely stunned. Gritting her teeth, she repeated the same word three times, each one colder than the last. "Fine. Fine. Fine… You really are the kind of fool who won't turn back until he slams into a brick wall, who won't give up until he drowns! "You have no idea what kind of death trap Blumedale is! This is the heart of Gabo Creek—the political and economic center of the region, Holtrien's southern metropolis! "You coming here is like a small fish diving into the open ocean… or a lamb wandering into a den of lions! What awaits you is a shredded body and a death so brutal, no one will even recognize your corpse!" Andrew's gaze sharpened as he replied coolly, "Is that so? Because in my eyes, Gabo Creek's Blumedale is nothing more than a slightly bigger jungle. And an elite hunter doesn't just take down rats and stray dogs… they can gut tigers and rip open lions too." With that,
Jameson nodded, looking quite pleased with himself. "Now, Joe—he's definitely an exceptional young man. I'm satisfied with him, no doubt. But being satisfied doesn't mean he's to my taste! "Andrew, on the other hand, first of all—he's handsome, just like I was back in my prime. Second, he's got charm. Talking with him is actually fun, and that's rare these days." "But most importantly…" Jameson leaned in like he was about to share a state secret. Tiana scowled. "Let me guess—because he lacks ambition and has no shame?" Jameson grinned shamelessly. "Wrong! That kid gave me a pill that… let's just say it brought my manhood back to life! And the best part? Not only did I benefit, but you did too! "So if we're being honest here, we both ought to be thanking him—and treating him right!" Tiana's face flushed bright red. In the blink of an eye, she stormed over and smacked Jameson across the face. She shouted, "Disgusting! Filthy pig! I have no idea what I was thinking when I agr
Andrew said to the lady, "And don't go looking for a nice, honest man. What did an honest man ever do to deserve you?" As the Rolls-Royce drove off, the woman on the plaza stomped her foot in frustration. "Hmph! Acting all high and mighty. You rich guys walk around in suits like you're so proper, but once the clothes come off, you're worse than animals! "And what's wrong with liking an honest guy, huh? Plenty of them love women like me!" Muttering to herself, she swayed her hips and went off to reel in her next customer. … Inside the Rolls-Royce, the driver was an elderly man dressed simply—plain shirt, cloth shoes, nothing flashy. However, he was impeccably neat and carried an unmistakable air of dignity. This type of low-key appearance was common among the long-established elite. It looked humble, but in reality, it spoke volumes. "You must be Andrew Lloyd, the one from Jayrodale, right?" he asked without turning his head. Andrew nodded. "Yeah, that's me." The old m
"A bit of character?" Francis paused, clearly displeased, and his tone quickly turned sharp. "Listen—if you don't understand something, don't go throwing opinions around. "The Phelans are the pinnacle of prestige in Gabo Creek. And this estate you're looking at? Do you have any idea how far back it goes? During The Solarian Period, it was the residence of a high-ranking statesman!" His words dripped with pride as though he was speaking of sacred history. Andrew replied casually, "The renovation and design definitely have that classic charm. But the layout feels a bit unbalanced, geomancy-wise. And the gardens? A little too flashy, too much Valemonian style. It's missing that Holtrien grace—that quiet, dignified simplicity. It just doesn't flow." Francis' face darkened. He had not expected Andrew to double down—much less critique his work directly. The idea of a kid from Jayrodale thinking he knew anything about geomancy or landscape design was laughable. Francis snapped, "
The crowd could not help but wonder if Andrew was just that hurried to die, "Dragon Claw Strike!" With a low, lethal growl, Ellis struck, his eyes full of murder. His hands curled into claws, shooting straight for Andrew's chest and eyes, going for nothing less than a kill shot right from the start. However, Andrew's expression did not change. He stepped back once, then again, calm and fluid. It looked casual, but every move was calculated—just enough to slip right past Ellis's deadly thrusts. "Not bad. That's some decent footwork," Ellis sneered, his tone mocking even as he circled again. Then, his wiry frame lunged low, sweeping toward Andrew with a lightning-fast kick. Andrew's voice remained quiet and steady. "Dragon Claw Strike and Golden Cicada Stance are elite techniques from Silverthorn Monastery. Too bad you only learned the shell, not the substance." He stopped moving. Like a rock in a river, his stance suddenly locked in place. Ellis's sweeping legs, fast as
The bald man, Ellis, was not some no-name street thug—he was well-known in Blumedale. Among Mosby's apprentices, he was one of the rare few with zero talent in medicine but exceptional prowess in martial arts. Insiders knew the truth—Mosby had not taken Ellis in to pass on his medical legacy or help heal the sick. He wanted muscle, someone who could handle the dirty work behind closed doors. The whispers began almost instantly among the growing crowd. "This is bad. That's Mosby's third apprentice—trained under the monks at Silverthorn Monastery. I heard he's so powerful he can crack stone with his bare hands." Another chimed in, "Genesis Dispensary isn't the kind of place you just stroll into looking for trouble. That young guy's finished." "Well… I don't know. Judging from what I saw earlier, the guy's no amateur either." "Amateur? My ass. Ellis doesn't hold back. People have died under his fists before. That punk's either going to be crippled or dead in minutes..." More a
Barely two minutes had passed, but every single one of Genesis Dispensary's enforcers lay sprawled on the ground—some unconscious, some writhing in pain, and some not even moving. Janice clutched the edge of her sleeve, her face pale as a sheet. She stared at Andrew in shock, as if not recognizing this man. The Andrew she knew was gentle, refined, eloquent—someone who had won her grandfather's respect the moment they met, a miracle doctor with endless skill. However, the Andrew standing before her now was the complete opposite—ruthless, cold-blooded, and surrounded by a sea of blood from the beatings he had just handed out. Old Hayface's legs trembled as he stared at Andrew like he had seen a ghost, thinking this was beyond insane. How could some young punk wipe out all of Genesis Dispensary's muscle like it was nothing? He shook his head furiously in denial. "Andrew, you've messed up big time—real big. Mr. Lake is on his way and—" Before he could finish, Andrew delivered t
The red Ferrari screeched to a stop in front of the famous Genesis Dispensary like a streak of lightning. The dramatic entrance instantly caught the attention of pedestrians walking by. "Who the hell do you think you are? Driving that flashy piece of crap like you own the place? Move it before we lock your ass in!" Two burly security thugs stationed at the entrance of Genesis Dispensary stomped over, cursing as they approached. Janice jumped out of the car in a panic and rushed to explain, "I'm sorry, sirs, really sorry! We'll leave right now, please don't—" However, before she could even finish her sentence, Andrew stepped forward and slapped both men across the face. Each blow landed with a crack, and neither man had time to react before their heads slammed into the pavement, completely unconscious. Janice stood frozen, wondering if Andrew had always had such an explosive temper. How had she never seen this side of him before? "You bastard! You think you can hit our guy
Ronan's Oak Apothecary had built a modest but respected reputation in Blumedale, so having him gather the herbs was a huge time-saver for Andrew. However, the moment Andrew stepped into the shop, Janice Bates came running toward him in tears. "Andrew! My grandpa… he got hurt! Someone beat him up!" she cried, sobbing uncontrollably. Andrew's brows furrowed. "Janice, stop crying for now. Take me to him." In the back room, Ronan was lying on a bed, clearly injured. Two red handprints burned across his cheeks, and his forehead was bruised and bleeding as if someone had shoved him hard against something. "Mr. Lloyd… you came," Ronan said weakly, trying to sit up. "Forgive me, I've failed you." Andrew quickly motioned for him to stop talking. "Don't waste your breath. Let's get you patched up first." After checking him over, Andrew was relieved to find that Ronan had only suffered surface wounds and a badly twisted waist. He worked swiftly, massaging the injured muscles and ap
The awkward silence lasted for almost half an hour. Eventually, Aspen regained enough strength in her legs to move again. Without a word and her face icy cold, she reached for the car door, desperate to leave. Andrew quickly grabbed her wrist and said, "I'll drive you home so you can change clothes. Especially your skirt and stockings—they're completely soaked." Aspen immediately blushed crimson, embarrassment flooding up her neck and across her cheeks. She ground her teeth angrily and snapped, "No need!" Andrew ignored her protests completely, starting the Ferrari and driving straight back to The Sovereign Residences. Neither said a word during the entire drive. Andrew genuinely did not know what to say. Everything had been perfectly normal until he suddenly crossed the line with Aspen. It was just like those old movies, where the wealthy guy ended up sleeping with his favorite maid. Technically, Andrew had not done anything wrong; Aspen was his slave, after all. Nonethe
Andrew shook his head slowly and said, "No, you're not like some middle-aged lunatic, and you're definitely not trash or a hooker. You look like a cute little bunny rabbit, just begging to be eaten up. You forced my hand, Aspen!" As soon as he finished speaking, Aspen's eyes widened in sudden panic, realizing what was about to happen. She struggled fiercely, desperate to escape Andrew's grasp. Her voice trembled with tears as she pleaded, "No, no, no! Andrew—Mr. Lloyd—I'm sorry, I admit it, I was wrong! I swear, I won't do it again, please don't do this—please, no!" Her frantic protests ended abruptly with a soft, electric whimper as Andrew silenced her, pressing his mouth firmly onto hers. What followed was a hungry, unstoppable kiss, intense and overwhelming. Aspen's clear eyes widened, her expression first filled with shame and anger, then disbelief, and finally melting into a dazed, dreamy blankness. Their rapid breathing mingled in the confined space of the Ferrari, th
Andrew let out a cold laugh as he stared at the trembling Aspen right in front of him. "What am I doing? What do you think I'm doing? When you were trying to suppress Christina and Davon earlier, you used my presence to scare them off. Don't tell me you forgot that?" Aspen flushed, both embarrassed and angry. "I didn't forget! But what I said—was any of it wrong?" Andrew snorted. "No, it wasn't wrong. But you did get one thing messed up: your grudge with Christina has nothing to do with me, so don't drag me into it just to make yourself look good. You used your own boss as a pawn. That takes some guts, Aspen." Aspen instantly felt a chill. She shrank back and begged, "I-I-I… I won't do it again, okay? Andrew, just let me down first. My butt's right up against the window, and if someone walks by and sees this, how the hell am I supposed to live that down?" The corner of Andrew's lips curved into a teasing grin. "Isn't that perfect? You're my little secretary. This? This is very
Someone joked loudly, "But we get it… I mean, with a secretary like that, why would you even look at anyone else?" The others burst into raucous laughter, not bothering to hide it even in front of Aspen's increasingly dark expression. "Exactly!" another chimed in. "Mr. Lloyd is living the dream. Damn, I look at my office girl and suddenly feel dead inside!" "Mr. Lloyd's not just talented—he's got the best of both worlds. That little secretary of his is a top-tier beauty!" A bespectacled executive chuckled crudely and added, "Mr. Lloyd, let me give you a piece of advice: when there's work, let the secretary handle it; when there's no work, handle the secretary! That line fits you perfectly!" The entire room erupted in laughter as Aspen's face flushed deep red, her cheeks burning. Furious, she shot Andrew a murderous glare, then stormed out of the room in her heels without a word. Andrew, looking utterly unbothered, leisurely followed behind. He even muttered to himself, "Han