On the platform, Mosby and Andrew stood on opposite ends, locked in a silent stare. The original third contender, Thomas, had already left in quiet defeat. Mosby said, "Andrew, a shared first place is a win-win for both of us. Why not just take the prize and walk away happy? That way, we both leave this on a high note." He was still trying to talk Andrew out of the final match. Andrew glanced at him and replied with a light laugh. "Dr. Lake, are you chickening out?" Mosby's face darkened. "Me? Scared? You think that's possible? I'm suggesting this for our benefit. I've seen your skills now—they're no less than mine. But if you want to surpass me, you'd need at least another ten, maybe 20 years." Andrew rolled his eyes, clearly losing patience. "Mosby, quit blowing smoke. You know damn well that when it comes to medicine, you're not even fit to carry my bag." That blatant slap in the face sent Mosby into a rage. His eyes flared, and he roared, "Fine! Then I'll fight you to t

Rafael could not take it anymore and shouted, "Mosby, just accept the challenge already! You've got decades of medical mastery—what's there to fear? Kill him with it!" Quinton, ever the chaos-stirrer, chimed in again. "Exactly, Dr. Lake! Believe in yourself. Andrew is bluffing—no way he'd really go all in! But hey, if he does… well then, pretend I didn't say anything." Mosby's apprentices all turned to glare at Quinton, seething with rage. Then, they turned back toward their mentor, bowing respectfully. "Dr. Lake, go forth with confidence! No matter what happens, even if something... unfortunate occurs, we'll take care of all the madams—day and night, with full devotion!" Mosby's body trembled. For a fleeting moment, he seriously considered conceding to Andrew on the spot—just to survive this madness. Then, maybe sprint up to the stands and dismember every single one of those so-called apprentices. As for that bastard Quinton? He wanted to castrate him, then force-feed him hi

Clifford suggested, "How about you sell that map to our Advanced Medical Institute?" Andrew did not even bother looking at him, simply replying, "Sure. Like I said before—just make me the head of your institute and we've got a deal." Clifford roared, "You're delusional!" Andrew sneered. "If I'm delusional, then so are you." Down below, Mosby staggered off the platform like a broken man. Rafael rushed up to him, his voice tight with urgency. "Mosby, I only brought that map out because of you! Yet you just stood there and let it fall into Andrew's hands! Do you realize how big a loss this is?" Mosby's lips trembled. "Mr. Driscoll… I tried my best." "I know you tried," Rafael growled. "But we have to take the map back!" Mosby's eyes drifted toward Andrew, still surrounded by the roaring crowd, and his expression twisted with hatred. "Don't worry. The humiliation and disgrace I suffered because of him, I'll return it all with a hundredfold. If I don't see that brat dead, then

Zephyr and Esther thought the Stevens family of Bridgefields barely had the qualifications to show their faces, let alone speak up. However, when they saw Aspen receive a bottle of the Golden Cure from Andrew himself, both lit up with joy. Just then, Andrew picked up another small bottle and casually walked over in their direction. Zephyr immediately stepped forward. "Mr. Lloyd, what's the matter?" His tone was careful. Andrew smiled warmly. "Mr. Stevens, no need for all that formality. Just call me Andrew from now on. There's not much of the brew left, and Aspen already got her share. But since your family came all the way from Bridgefields, it must've been tiring. This little bottle is for you. It should help with your upcoming martial breakthrough." Zephyr's hands shook, unsure whether to take it or not. It was not until Aspen gave a small, encouraging nod that he finally reached out, clutched it like treasure, and bowed deeply. He said, "I won't waste words. Just know I

Kevin introduced himself, "Dr. Lloyd, I'm Kevin, head of the Wrights family. I was hoping to introduce myself through my daughter, Yara." Given Kevin's polite tone and out of respect for Yara, Andrew did not put on a cold face right away. He stepped out of the car with a smile. "Mr. Wright. Nice to meet you. But if we're just making introductions, then we've already met. And now, I'm going home. Take care." Andrew's dismissive tone toward one of the Five Apex Family patriarchs stunned Kevin a little. He did not feel insulted—no, what he felt was dread. Kevin thought, 'Damn it. The Wrights' status really doesn't mean anything to this kid anymore.' However, Quinton was not nearly as self-aware. He chimed in gloomily. "Andrew, what's with the attitude? Do you even know what kind of power our family holds in Blumedale?" Andrew sneered. "Power? I didn't even give a damn about Rafael. What makes you think the Wrights are more important than the Driscolls?" Quinton was stunned