Tony's massive frame froze, feeling weak all over. A moment later, he roared. "Andrew, you bastard! How dare you kill my son! Everyone, attack him! I want him dead and in pieces!" Tony was like a madman. Yet, despite his orders, the East Side thugs remained motionless. Instead, the remaining twenty or so thugs trembled uncontrollably, their weapons shaking in their hands as they backed away from Andrew, whose display of power had completely shattered their courage. Seeing this, Tony's bloodshot eyes bulged with rage. "You cowards! You spineless trash! Attack him! That's an order, damn it!" No matter how much he screamed, his men did nothing, their fear paralyzing them. "I'll handle this!" One of the three elite fighters Tony had hired stepped forward. The muscular man leaped into the air like a feral beast, aiming a devastating flying kick at Andrew. Herman snorted. "Don't worry, Mr. Madden Senior. With us three here, this punk won't cause any trouble." However, he qui
Herman glanced down at Erica's lifeless body, her wide-open eyes frozen in death. Fury consumed him as he kicked the chair behind him aside and stepped directly into Andrew's path. "Step aside, or you'll meet the same fate as them," Andrew warned in a low voice. Herman bristled at the insult. "You arrogant child, how dare you disrespect me!" He snarled, "Do you even know who I am? I'm an elder of the Crimson Alliance—surrender now, or even if you kill the Maddens, our clan will hunt you to the ends of the earth." "He's right, Andrew!" Tony chimed in, suddenly hopeful. "Touch me, and the Crimson Alliance will never stop hunting you. You probably don't know this, but they're the force behind East Side's power!" Andrew shook his head dismissively. "The Crimson Alliance? Should I be impressed? Sorry, but I don't keep track of every minor league martial arts organization out there." Herman smirked. "Our clan ranks among the top five martial arts organizations in all of Jayrodale
Herman's face contorted with rage as he spun around and slapped Tony, sending him flying across the room. He screamed, "Get away from me, you idiot! Don't you realize the trouble you've gotten us into?" He continued, "Instead of standing there clueless, you should get on your knees and beg for mercy!" Tony clutched his swollen face, his mind completely blank. Beg for mercy? What was happening? Nothing was making sense for Tony. Suddenly, about 200 men in black suits rushed into the building, quickly subduing all of East Side's remaining thugs. The suited men parted to make way as two figures walked in. Dylan walked in, immediately stunned. Meanwhile, leading the way was an elderly man with a cane, dressed in a style suit, radiating an air of authority so powerful it silenced the chaos around him. "M-Mr. Yates, why… why are you on my turf?" Tony stammered. Marvin, the wealthiest man in Jayrodale, ignored Tony completely and respectfully approached Andrew. "Mr. Lloy
"Please, help me beg for mercy and spare my life," Herman pleaded. Marvin responded coldly, "Given the Crimson Alliance's influence in Gabo Creek, I might have considered showing you mercy, Herman. Unfortunately, you didn't offend me—you offended Mr. Lloyd. Do you honestly think that even the reputation of a Crimson Alliance elder is enough to earn forgiveness in this case?" Herman's face turned ashen as he laughed bitterly. "You're right… I don't deserve mercy. This is my fate, my terrible luck." "Mr. Blackwood, who the hell is Andrew?" Tony demanded through gritted teeth. "Stop wallowing and explain! He can't possibly be that important!" Herman's expression grew lifeless as he sighed. "Since even Mr. Yates has acknowledged the truth, I might as well tell you, you ignorant fool." He continued, "He's not just important—even the most powerful would bow before him. He's a Lloyd and has the Blood-Eyed Black Dragon on his chest. Do you know what the tattoo signifies?" Tony gulp
With a sudden burst of movement, Herman struck Tony's head with his palm. Tony was stunned, muttering, "Mr. Blackwood, you… you…" Blood sputtered from his mouth and nose, and he did not even finish his sentence before collapsing. With a blank face, Herman said, "The moment we provoked Mr. Lloyd, we were already set to be buried six feet under. Don't worry. I'll join you soon." Dylan watched the scene unfold with chills running down his spine. Without any physical force or coercion, Andrew's mere identity had driven both a martial arts master like Herman and a crime lord like Tony to their deaths. He could not comprehend just how powerful Andrew's true identity was. "Mr. Yates, after I'm gone, please don't bring trouble to Crimson Alliance or my family," Herman begged, still kneeling. "Can you promise me this?" "Mr. Lloyd never harms the innocent," Marvin replied coldly. "Rest assured, the Crimson Alliance and your family will be safe." Herman sighed in relief before bit
Andrew scoffed without saying a word. Francesca assumed he was just talking tough since wiping out all of East Side seemed impossible. Well, at least she had never dared to imagine it. Just then, her phone rang with a call from Lauren. As soon as the call was connected, Lauren asked urgently, "Fran, something huge happened. Is Dr. Lloyd with you?" "Yes, he is. What happened?" Lauren's voice was deadly serious. "Ask Dr. Lloyd if he's responsible for eliminating the entire East Side and Tony." The question hit Francesca like a thunderbolt. Forgetting Lauren on the phone, she stared at Andrew in shock. She stammered, "Y-You actually destroyed Tony and all of East Side's criminal empire? How did you do it?" Before Andrew could answer, the hospital room door burst open. Irene rushed in, followed by other members of the Stevens family and Harvey. "Christie, Christie, are you okay? My baby, there's so much blood! How badly are you hurt?" Irene wailed, throwing herself beside th
Just then, Harvey chimed in, "Andrew, I used to consider you a friend for Christie's sake. But now you've gotten her hurt like this; I'm officially warning you to stay away from her, or else." His posture and tone suggested he was some noble protector, acting as if he would move heaven and earth for Christina's sake. Andrew's response was a cold laugh. "Oh, now you dare show your face? When Christina was in trouble, you were hiding away, acting all cowardly. Now that I've rescued her, you're here running your mouth. Aren't you ashamed?" "Who told you I didn't help when Christie was in trouble?" Harvey snorted. "Do you think Mr. Garner and Mr. Yates stepped in for no reason?" "Now you've got nothing to say, do you?" Irene sneered at Andrew. "It was Harvey who got Mr. Garner and Mr. Yates to deal with Tony." Andrew smiled wryly. "Is that what Harvey told the Stevens family, or just what you've assumed?" "That's none of your business," Irene snapped. "The point is, Christie'
Nonetheless, Harvey looked at the bright side of the situation. At least with Tony dead, he would never have to repay those millions owed to East Side. Just then, Christina stirred in her hospital bed, her face contorted in pain as she mumbled something. Irene immediately leaned in closer. "What is it, Christie? I'm here." "Help me… Please help me!" Christina whispered faintly. "I'm sorry, Andrew… I'm so sorry!" Though she was just talking in her sleep, Irene turned to Harvey with a smile. "Harvey, she's asking you to save her and calling your name! See? She's thinking of you even in her dreams!" Harvey's heart leaped as he rushed forward to take Christina's hand. "Don't be afraid, Christie. I'm here. I'll protect you from anything. You're my everything." However, as soon as he grabbed her hand, Christina began struggling in her sleep. "You're not Andrew… Let go of me! Andrew, Andrew, where are you? I'm sorry. Can you save me?" Harvey's face darkened instantly. The other
"Has West End lost all its pride?" Conan demanded. Natasha waved her hand dismissively and gritted her teeth. "Everyone out—I can't blame anyone when I'm simply outmatched. I underestimated him, and even if you all attacked together, you'd just be throwing your lives away." Conan and the other two men reluctantly withdrew, but this time, he remained stationed right outside the door. He wanted to be ready to rush in if Natasha needed help, though he knew they stood no chance against someone who could defeat her. "I admit now that you surpass me in both combat skills and intelligence," Natasha said blankly. "You even have mysterious connections with Marvin and Mark. I can't beat you, Andrew, so do what you will with me." For the first time, Natasha felt utterly defeated. She had never underestimated Andrew, but she had clearly misjudged him completely. She had admired him and wanted him to work for West End, believing her status, charm, and fighting prowess would be enough to t
Natasha's bedroom was in complete disarray. She lay on the floor, drenched in sweat with disheveled hair and blood at the corner of her mouth, her face ghostly pale. Her half-open eyes glared at Andrew with intense hatred, while he sat casually on the couch, sipping his tea as if nothing had happened. Unlike Natasha's battered state, not a single thread on Andrew's clothing was out of place. "Wait, so you two weren't… you were actually fighting?" the bearded enforcer asked in disbelief. Another West End thug added in shock, "How is it possible that Madam is injured?" To them, Natasha had always been an invincible fighter, yet now she lay helpless on the floor, thoroughly defeated by Andrew. Conan shot an angry glare at the bearded enforcer and his companion. "Weren't you just saying how much fun she was having? Stop standing there like idiots and help her up!" The two men rushed forward to assist Natasha, but she impatiently pushed them away. "Get out! All of you get out!
Andrew's fingers struck with precision, targeting pressure points that sent waves of intense pain through Natasha's body. "Darling, no! Please, stop! I was wrong—I'm sorry! I can't take it anymore. It hurts so much!" "Ahhh! Stop it, please stop! Don't do this anymore!" Natasha cried out, her voice switching between desperate wails and hysterical laughter as the unbearable pain pushed her to the brink. The excruciating pain caused Natasha to writhe on the floor. She crashed into the couch and coffee table, making loud thudding noises that echoed through the room. … In the hallway outside, several heads peeked around the corner, intently watching Natasha's door. Conan led the group, his weathered face twisted with concern as he whispered, "Something doesn't sound right about this." One of the West End enforcers chuckled. "Come on, can't you tell? Madam is just having a good time!" Another man with a scruffy beard joined in with a knowing chuckle. "Exactly! Madam Vostoko
Andrew remained seated on the couch, his expression unchanged, as he raised his leg to intercept Natasha's attack. "You won't even stand up? Fine! If you're going to disrespect me like this, I'll have to teach you a lesson!" Natasha's chest heaved with anger. Her combat abilities surpassed Dylan's, and she was just a hair's breadth away from matching Atlas. Yet, this arrogant young man would not even bother to get up from his seat to face her attack, which felt like a direct insult to her pride. She transformed her claw-like strikes into palm strikes, alternating blows aimed at Andrew's chest. Without even looking, the latter countered with two palm strikes of his own, and their hands collided with two dull thuds. Natasha felt an overwhelming force transmitted through Andrew's hands, causing her to stumble backward. Meanwhile, Andrew remained as steady as a mountain on the couch, even taking a moment to pick up his teacup for a casual sip. He commented, "I'm surprised that a
With frustration written across her face, Natasha gritted her teeth. She had decided it was better not to show off her strategies in front of Andrew anymore, wanting to avoid further embarrassment. Andrew ignored her visible discomfort and said calmly, "I want you to understand that anything gained through deception and betrayal will eventually become too hot to handle and turn to dust. That's the lesson history has taught us time and time again." Natasha scoffed. "Fine, I can't argue with you. But you have to admit that two-thirds or more of Jayrodale's underworld is now under my control. Either you and Dylan submit to my authority, or you'll face death!" Andrew shook his head and replied, "You're seeing things through rose-colored glasses. While Dylan might not be able to handle you, I can take you down with a single move. That's another lesson I want to teach you today—that in the face of absolute power, no amount of schemes or clever tricks will work." Natasha paused, then
After her initial shock, Natasha's face flushed with embarrassment and anger, refusing to back down as she questioned him. "Alright, you call yourself a master physician. Then let me ask you this—why did I still get injured in my fight with Atlas after taking the Blood Surge Pill? And now you're accusing me of faking it?" Andrew's lips curled into a mocking smile as he replied, "Is that so hard to figure out? The moment you got back, you took a high-quality healing pill. Judging by your complexion, it must've been a top-tier Vitality Pill. These pills can quickly replenish energy and restore blood, bringing you back from weakness in no time." "Well, am I wrong?" Andrew's tone was dripping with sarcasm as he stared at Natasha. Natasha fell silent for a long moment before clapping her hands, a rosy blush spreading across her face—there was not a hint of weakness left in her demeanor. "No wonder Dylan swears unwavering loyalty to you. Even I have to admit defeat before you, darlin
"At this point, West End can't even send out a proper representative," Andrew stated emotionlessly. "Since you're treating me like I don't exist, I'll kill you first, then have a chat with Natasha." "Mr. Lloyd, please don't go too far!" a voice suddenly thundered from behind. "Conan, done watching the show from your hiding spot?" Andrew smirked as he released his grip and kicked the tattooed giant toward Conan. Conan's face twitched. He knew the tattooed giant was one of Natasha's most fearless fighters, young and skilled in hand-to-hand combat, yet Andrew had broken him so effortlessly. "Please follow me, Mr. Lloyd. Madam Vostokoff will see you now," Conan said coldly. Andrew sneered. "Oh, now she's willing to meet after this show of force?" "Mr. Lloyd, West End has already absorbed Atlas's territory," Conan stated angrily. "If you were smart, you wouldn't have come here." "So, if I hadn't shown up, Natasha would just take everything herself?" Andrew's face remained expr
Andrew's patience had run out as he spoke in a cold tone. "One last time—tell Natasha to come out and talk now." The tattooed giant mocked, "Or what? What can you do? Andrew, you might have some history with West End, but if you think that gives you the right to make demands, you're in the wrong place." As he moved to push Andrew away again, the other guards snickered. With Atlas' fall, Natasha had become Jayrodale's most powerful underground leader, and they could not believe this man's audacity in challenging West End. Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed through the air—the sound of a wrist being broken. The tattooed giant let out an agonizing scream. "My hand! You broke my hand! Get him! Attack!" The fifty-over guards stood shocked for a moment before charging forward with angry shouts. Andrew's face turned cold as his leg swept out. Screams filled the air as the first wave of guards went flying, their faces meeting Andrew's foot. The tattooed giant, his wrist still in Andrew
Aspen had invested ten million dollars in Atlas's operation, and if it were all gone, there would be serious consequences. They immediately got into the car with Irene and Leroy, heading toward Jayrodale's Northern District. … Meanwhile, Andrew's G-Wagon drifted to a smooth stop in front of the West End headquarters. Unlike usual, the building was surrounded by guards in black suits, dark ties, and sunglasses, creating an intimidating atmosphere. One of Natasha's top enforcers blocked Andrew's path. "Sorry, Mr. Lloyd, but you can't enter right now!" "I'm here to see Madam Vostokoff. Is there a problem?" Andrew asked with a smile as he sized up the man. The enforcer was a muscular giant with a crew cut and tattoos covering his neck, chest, and arms. His bulging muscles and fists the size of melons marked him as someone not to be messed with. "Mr. Lloyd, please understand that Madam Vostokoff isn't available right now," the man chuckled, pushing Andrew back. "You're an honore