Semua Bab Rising from the Ashes: Bab 1211 - Bab 1220

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

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

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

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

It was too late for Ellis. Before he knew it, Andrew's Dragon Claw Strike clamped down on his shoulder with crushing precision. Ellis let out a blood-curdling scream, his voice thick with agony. His shoulder twisted violently as he attempted to spin through the air—a full 360-degree motion meant to break free using a technique known as Dragon Molting. Even while airborne, he gritted his teeth and launched a vicious counter-kick toward Andrew's abdomen. Yet, Andrew did not even flinch. With a cold, soundless smirk, he snapped his knee upward, effortlessly intercepting the incoming strike. Ellis's foot missed entirely, and the impact shredded ligaments along the way. At the same time, Andrew's grip shifted, his Dragon Claw morphing fluidly as it locked onto Ellis's elbow joint. A loud crack echoed, and the sound was sharp enough to make onlookers wince. Ellis threw his head back and let out a tortured scream. "My arm! You bastard, I'll kill you—" But it was too late. One