"Name," Andrew said flatly. Reuben dared not show any attitude and quickly answered, "Reuben Davis. I'm from Gabo Creek. Started training at seven, own five properties in Blumedale, have 400 million in liquid assets, and one illegitimate son—" Andrew waved his hand, cutting him off. "I asked for your name, not your entire autobiography." Reuben bowed his head, nodding repeatedly. "Got it, got it! My bad, sir!" Andrew asked, "Do you want me to let you go?" Reuben looked at him eagerly. "Of course I do! Who wouldn't? But I get it—there's no such thing as a free lunch. I ended up in your hands, so obviously, there's a price I've got to pay." Andrew gave a knowing smile. "Now that's the mindset of a real veteran. You're sharp, Reuben. Oh, and stop calling me 'sir'.' I'm not that old." Reuben laughed awkwardly. "Among martial artists, we don't judge by age. We go by power. If you've surpassed me, then calling you sir is only right." Andrew did not argue with him. Instead, he
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