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
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
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
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
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!
"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 trembled but stood her ground. "Andrew, I know I'm no match for you, but I'm not someone to be trifled with either. You at least owe me some compensation." "What do you want?" Andrew asked with an amused smile. "I'm not greedy—just give me some of that medicine," Natasha said, her eyes lighting up as she held out her hand. Andrew chuckled and tossed her a small vial. "You say you're not greedy, yet you ask for something money can't buy." Natasha's face lit up with delight as she examined the vial's contents. "Well, at least you have some conscience," she said, carefully tucking it away. Her eyes roamed over Andrew's form as her cheeks flushed. "I have one last request. If you agree, then I'll be yours forever." "Let's hear it," Andrew said with a laugh, "but I'm warning you—nothing excessive!" Natasha stepped closer until she was nearly pressed against him and whispered, "Andrew, I want to be your woman. I've never submitted to many men, but you're different. Take
Natasha continued softly, "But what if it wasn't you today, but someone else? Someone who defeated me so easily and pinned me down—what do you think would have happened to me then?" Without waiting for Andrew's response, she gave a bitter laugh. "I've walked the edge of destruction countless times to reach this position. Though I've always refused to trade my body for power, believing that true strength comes from within, a widow like me often doesn't have many choices." "If you believe in that, then why are you so determined to give yourself to me?" Andrew asked. Natasha wiped away her tears and gave him a tender look. "You really are clueless! When others desire my body, I want them gone, but with you, I'm willing because there's only one reason—I genuinely care for you!" Her eyes grew softer and more melancholic as she continued. "And now, seeing your true strength, I want to give myself to someone I truly submit to. It would make me happy to finally let down my guard with a
Logan was stunned. He rushed forward in shock. "Father, you're awake?" George forced a small smile. "Not only am I awake, but I've never felt this clear-headed before. It even feels like my martial cultivation just had a breakthrough!" The crowd of expert doctors, including Chantelle and Mosby, was frozen in place, completely dumbfounded. No one could utter a single word, as they were too stunned to react. Andrew gestured for Logan to help George onto the couch, smiling as he said, "Mr. Keller Senior, the energy corruption has already been cleared from your system. Now you'll just need some medication to aid your recovery, and your body should return to normal. "However, your vitality and spiritual energy were badly depleted—it'll take a few months to fully recover." George looked at Andrew with genuine admiration. He asked Logan to help him sit up, then turned solemnly and said, "I'm already grateful just to be alive. But to come out of this without losing an ounce of my life
Mosby explained, "But undoubtedly, his mind must be utterly exhausted and his spirit completely drained! Whether or not he wakes up will be the real challenge. If he doesn't regain consciousness, he'll become nothing more than a hollow shell." As he spoke, he cast a deliberately sinister glance at Andrew. If George remained in a vegetative state, then Andrew would not just be blamed—he would probably be executed on the spot by the Keller family. Yet right then, Logan turned to Andrew with genuine sincerity and said, "Andrew, all of us in the Keller family saw what you did for my father. Don't worry—even if he doesn't wake up, you'll still be honored as a benefactor of our family." Mosby could not believe what he was hearing. "Mr. Keller, how can you say that? If Mr. Keller Senior doesn't wake up, Andrew should be held accountable for a grievous crime!" Logan, however, had already seen through Mosby's jealousy and hostility toward Andrew. He responded calmly, "Mr. Lake, this is
Andrew ignored all the shouting around him without batting an eye. Once everything he requested had been brought in, he began the treatment without delay. "Mr. Keller Senior, brace yourself for some pain," he warned calmly. With that, he slowly inserted golden needles into the top of George's head. Chantelle's voice turned serious. "Andrew, the head is the most delicate part of the human body. It's where the nerves are most complex—what you're doing could have serious consequences." Andrew replied evenly, "Mr. Keller Senior's condition stems from a mental collapse, and the mind resides in the thoughts—the thoughts in the brain. So, treatment has to start there." As he explained, his hands moved with precision. Soon, the crown of George's head, right in GV20, was covered in golden needles. Then, he pressed two acupoints on George's chest with careful control. A flicker of relief finally appeared on George's agonized face. Logan asked cautiously, "Andrew, why did you target
Mosby said, "I already drained most of the old man's strength with Ms. Garcia! And now you're just waiting on the sidelines to swoop in when it's safe. Don't you think that's rather shameless?" Andrew said flatly, "Judging others by your own petty standards—that's exactly the kind of person you are, Dr. Lake. If you're so upset about it, how about I release Mr. Keller Senior and let you try your luck? Let's see how easy that 'swooping in' really is." Mosby's expression instantly changed. He fell silent, visibly shaken by the idea. He still remembered almost getting killed by George just moments ago, and there was no way he wanted to flirt with death again. Andrew sneered, "Coward." Mosby snapped, "You insolent brat! How dare you insult me?!" Andrew could not be bothered to respond. He had no personal vendetta against the man, but after being provoked repeatedly, he was not going to sit there and take it either. "Logan, get Mr. Keller Senior into the room. I'm ready to begin
Logan shouted, his voice cracking, "Dr. Lake, get out of the way!" Mosby forced himself to stay conscious, pried his eyes open, and immediately saw death rushing at him. He screamed, "Mr. Keller Senior, please—spare me!" However, George had already charged in, eyes blood-red, and a brutal hand chop was aimed straight for Mosby's skull. If that blow landed, the so-called legend of Blumedale would die right here, with his head cracked open. Chantelle gritted her teeth and moved in without hesitation. Her long leg, clad in sleek, tailored slacks, swept out in a horizontal arc. George stumbled back two steps, let out a low, guttural growl, and immediately lunged at her instead. Logan shouted from the side, trying to talk his father down, yet it was useless. George had fully descended into a killing trance. "Dr. Lake, get clear!" Chantelle barked as she spun forward. Her pale, graceful hand landed squarely on George's shoulder, and with a sharp twist, she executed a perfect shoul
Logan instinctively stepped forward, panicked, ready to intervene. However, Andrew stopped him. "No rush. Mr. Keller Senior needs to burn off some of that energy first. That way, it'll be easier for me to treat him afterward." Logan's voice trembled. "Dr. Lloyd, my father is not going to get hurt, right?" Andrew smirked. "Relax. Mr. Keller Senior will be fine. If anyone's in danger, it's probably Dr. Lake." Mosby and George had already gone head-to-head in combat. However, George looked completely possessed, growling like a wild beast, clearly stripped of rationality. His physical strength was nothing short of monstrous. Every vase, table, and piece of furniture in the room that stood in his way was shattered to dust under his fists. He held nothing back. Chantelle's eyes widened. "That strength… Has Mr. Keller Senior reached martial king level?" Logan sighed, conflicted. "That was originally a tightly guarded secret of the Keller family. No outsiders were supposed to know.
Andrew waved a hand dismissively. "I don't have time to explain everything to you, and even if I did, you wouldn't understand it anyway. You just need to know this—if you want to save your father, then do exactly what I tell you to." Logan looked uncertain and shot a quick glance at Chantelle as if to ask, "Who is this guy you brought along, and what's with the ego?" Chantelle's face darkened. "Mr. Keller, this man is Andrew Lloyd—he came at Mr. McCormick's recommendation. But honestly, you don't have to take him seriously. Just carry on with your own plans—ignore him." However, Logan shook his head and turned toward Andrew. "Dr. Lloyd, go ahead. Tell me what you need. As long as it'll help my father, I'll make it happen." His respectful tone stunned Chantelle. She wondered if Logan was out of his mind for believing Andrew just like that. Andrew smiled. "My request is actually pretty simple. If I'm going to treat your father, I expect to be compensated. So, I want access to al
Chantelle could not lash out, so she gritted her teeth and quickly followed behind. Inwardly, she made a mental note to report this arrogant clown to Derek later. To her, Andrew was reckless, so full of hot air, and completely unworthy of trust—nothing but a showboating jester. … Inside the main hall of the Keller residence, the place was packed with people coming and going. A group of specialists and renowned doctors stood gathered, their brows furrowed as they exchanged anxious whispers. One commented, "Mr. Keller Senior's condition is strange—truly bizarre!" "Exactly. His entire face is paralyzed. Even his tongue won't move. He can't swallow even a spoonful of medicine!" Another chimed in, "And the worst part? No one can get within three feet of him. The second anyone tries, they get attacked—some left with cracked skulls, others… well, some didn't make it." "Jeez! That serious? Who would dare try to treat him now? No matter how much the Keller family is offering, it's no
Chantelle was behind the wheel while Andrew rode along in the passenger seat as they headed out to treat Derek's old friend, George Keller. The atmosphere inside the car was tense, with Chantelle's resting expression as frosty and detached as ever, her face practically carved from ice. Andrew was not the kind of guy to throw warmth at a wall of cold, so he simply stayed quiet, staring out the window at the passing streets. After holding back for a while, Chantelle finally could not resist and let out a mocking laugh. "Mr. Lloyd, what a clever move—create your own mess, then try to get Mr. McCormick to step in and clean it up for you. Don't you think you're playing with fire?" Andrew smiled. "Playing with fire? Nah, I don't see it that way. At this point, I'm pretty much one of Mr. McCormick's trusted men. So if the little guy's getting targeted, doesn't it make perfect sense for the boss to step in and fix it?" Chantelle was momentarily stunned before letting out a scoff. "An