"Then dealing with the remaining side would be effortless since they'd be standing alone," Andrew concluded. Dylan nodded in agreement. "Mr. Lloyd's absolutely right. We could see Atlas's intentions from his all-out attack on South City—he wanted to eliminate obstacles quickly. Unfortunately for him, Griffin got taken out by Mr. Lloyd, which forced him to abort his plans." "You killed Griffin, Mr. Lloyd?" Natasha asked in shock, studying Andrew up and down with undisguised curiosity. This pretty boy had impressive guts and eloquence, and his intelligence was extraordinary, but Dylan was suggesting he had also taken down Griffin, Atlas' right-hand man. Could he be exceptional in combat as well? "Taking him down was pure luck, nothing worth making a fuss about," Andrew replied calmly. Natasha batted her eyes, smiling seductively. "Don't be so modest, Mr. Lloyd. Even if it was luck, you're still a true hero. I've been a widow for so long, and I've never met such a capable you
Faced with the eager gazes of the two crime lords, Andrew simply smiled and stopped talking, picking up his tea instead. Dylan caught on quickly and slapped his forehead. He said, "Mr. Lloyd has already helped us so much with both his wisdom and courage, while Madam Vostokoff and I have been doing nothing!" Turning to Natasha, he added, "Madam Vostokoff, Mr. Lloyd's assistance comes with certain conditions." "As it should," Natasha nodded. She no longer dared to underestimate Andrew, knowing that capable people always had their own terms. Deliberately pulling down her neckline to reveal more cleavage, Natasha smiled flirtatiously at Andrew. "Mr. Lloyd, you're a young man in your prime. Usually, men want either money or women. I wonder if my beauty catches your eye. If you're interested, I'd be willing to warm your bed tonight." Dylan watched with envy. Natasha was a stunning widow with both power and influence. When he saw Natasha offering herself to Andrew, he could not h
"Not to mention, Atlas has many other skilled fighters under his command," Natasha added. Andrew's eyes gleamed as he replied, "That's why a direct confrontation with Northern District won't work—you need to play it smart. History shows that even the most impenetrable walls aren't broken from the outside, but rather crumble from within." "Mr. Lloyd, are you suggesting we target Northern District's internal personnel?" Dylan asked with furrowed brows. Andrew smiled. "More specifically, you need to target the relationship between Atlas and Finley. They're the two pillars of the Northern District—together, you can't beat them. But if they turn against each other and start fighting among themselves, wouldn't that be your opportunity?" Natasha pouted. "Mr. Lloyd, sowing discord between them might sound simple, but it's impossible. Atlas relies heavily on Finley, and though Finley is arrogant, he respects Atlas. Getting them to turn against each other won't be easy!" "Of course, yo
Andrew shook his head. "Madam Vostokoff, despite what you say, I'd like to confirm this myself. I have my own principles, and if my plan ends up harming innocent people, I wouldn't be able to live with that." Natasha chuckled. "I understand you're kind-hearted, Mr. Lloyd. Actually, after your insights, I already have a plan to create conflict between Finley and Atlas. Tomorrow, as West End's leader, I'll host a gala here. Atlas's attention-seeking mistress will definitely show up uninvited, and as our honored guest, you can see for yourself if what I said is true." "That works. I'll come see for myself tomorrow," Andrew agreed. Dylan grinned. "It's a great plan. At the gala, you can set the stage for that pervert Finley to make his move on Atlas' mistress. Sparks will fly for sure." Natasha smirked. "Knowing Finley's nature, he won't be able to resist her. And that woman's no saint either—they'll hit it off immediately." Andrew checked his watch. "It's getting late, Dylan. We
Antonio trembled in anger as he exclaimed in disbelief, "That pretty boy is stick thin! How could he possibly take down Griffin? It must be Dylan spreading smoke and mirrors." Natasha smirked with a shake of her head. "I doubt it. Andrew has already proven himself at the Weller residence. He faced off against their senior fighter and walked away unscathed. How many people do you think could manage that?" Antonio fell silent, his brow furrowing in thought. Someone spoke up, "But Madam, the Northern District is incredibly powerful. We were better off staying neutral—allying with Dylan's South City is practically declaring war on Atlas." "I thought the same way before," Natasha replied. "But Andrew was right—Atlas is ambitious and cunning. If we do nothing while he takes down Dylan, West End will be next on his list." Antonio voiced his concerns, "That's true, but Northern District isn't just Atlas—there's also Finley. How confident can we be even with South City's help?" Nata
Natasha yawned lazily and said, "Alright, get some rest—I'm tired too. We have important business tomorrow, and Andrew will be there. I'll see if I can get him to warm up to me then." Antonio and the others could only force awkward laughs before quickly departing. They knew Natasha treated her subordinates well and was fiercely loyal. Combined with her exceptional combat skills and leadership, she maintained firm control over West End, but she was still a woman—and a straightforward one at that, sometimes even more straightforward than the toughest men. This often left older members like Antonio at a loss for words. … Meanwhile, in the Northern District, a subordinate entered Atlas's office to report. "Mr. Giordano, our men watched until dawn, but Dylan and Andrew never left West End's headquarters." Atlas extinguished his cigar and scoffed. "Natasha must have let them out through the secret tunnels. Damn it, it looks like Andrew has convinced her to ally with Dylan." "S
Atlas' mistress was overjoyed, showering him with sweet words over the phone. "Thank you, baby! I'll dress up beautifully for when you come. Oh, I've bought several sets of sexy lingerie—come rip them off me soon!" Atlas laughed happily. "Don't worry, baby. Once I handle these important matters, I'll keep you busy for days." After hanging up, Atlas felt deeply satisfied. His empire was rising, with Northern District at its peak, and soon, he would devour both Natasha's West End and Dylan's South City. Then, he would rule Jayrodale's underworld as its sole king, crushing Marvin, the Wellers, and Rhodes beneath his feet. … Meanwhile, in Andrew's office at Jayrodale General Hospital, Francesca walked in to find Andrew in a sharp suit. "Do you have a meeting or event?" she asked with a smile behind her hand, admiring his tall, elegant figure. "Neither—just attending a gala," Andrew replied with a smile. Francesca's eyebrows furrowed with concern. "Are you going to a gala? Do
Meanwhile in Scarlet Lounge, West End. Natasha had rented out the entire luxury resort for the event. When Andrew and Dylan arrived, they saw that the entrance was lined with high-end cars. Stunning women in designer dresses and sharp-looking men in tailored suits moved in and out of the venue, all exuding power and wealth. Dylan leaned closer and whispered, "Mr. Lloyd, you might not know this, but Natasha's not as conventional as she seems. "She's been keeping West End in check for years, but behind the scenes, she's got ties with several high-ranking officials and wealthy benefactors in Jayrodale. A lot of the men here might just be her… admirers." Andrew adjusted his crisp suit and replied casually, "It was obvious last night—Natasha knows how to use her charm to her advantage." Dylan smirked. "No doubt about it. Those legs of hers? God knows how many men she's brought to their knees with them, willing to do anything for her." Andrew smiled faintly. "Smart women always
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