Andarov could not care less about anything else and turned to flee, trying to blast through the villa wall and make his escape. However, Andrew's attacks were relentless, like crashing waves, giving him no chance to run.

With perfect aim, Andrew struck the center of Andarov's back with a palm strike that exploded like a thunderclap.

Bones shattered with a sickening crunch, and nearly two-thirds of Andarov's skeleton was crushed in an instant. Then, blood gushed out from his mouth as he collapsed, his massive eight-foot frame crashing to the floor.

Raising his trembling, blood-soaked hand, he pointed at Andrew, gasping, "You're not… not just some ordinary man. You're from… Holtrien's Chetvine… You're part of the royal fa—"

He never got to finish the sentence. Before the final word left his lips, Andarov exhaled his last breath and died on the spot.

A single drop of blood fell from Andrew's waist, and part of his shirt had already soaked through with red.

Natasha rushed over