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 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
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
"I'm sorry, Andrew, but I can't marry you!" Christina Stevens declared coldly in the CEO's office of Stevens Corporation. She sat behind her desk, looking elegant in a black lace dress, her demeanor icy and aloof. Across from her sat a handsome man in modest attire. Andrew Lloyd could not believe what he was hearing and asked, "Christie, what do you mean? What happened to the promise between us?" They had agreed to tie the knot on the day Stevens Corporation went public, marking the end of their three-year courtship. "Since we've been dating each other, I'll be frank," Christina replied, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her stunning features exuded grace and beauty with every movement. "Andrew, don't you think the gap between us has grown too wide? It's like we're from different worlds now. Forcing this relationship won't do you any good. For me, it would be… a burden." A burden? Andrew was stunned, never expecting Christina to say such a thing. If it had not
In the elevator, Andrew opened the modest ring box. A dazzling pink diamond immediately caught the light, its brilliance filling the small space. This 7.5-million-dollar luxury ring was once known as the "King of Diamonds" of Jayrodale, truly one of a kind. Andrew did not know exactly how much money was on the bank card, but he was sure it was enough to buy Stevens Corporations ten times over. Moments ago, Christina and Irene had not even bothered to look at these treasures, with Irene dismissing them as junk. As the elevator doors opened, Andrew stepped out. "Well, well, if it isn't Andrew! You don't look so good," a mocking voice greeted him. Andrew calmly looked up to see a man in a tailored suit, his hair slicked back, holding a bouquet of blue roses. It was Shawn Fields, Jayrodale's infamous trust fund baby and one of Christina's most persistent admirers. Not wanting to talk to him, Andrew tried to sidestep him, but Shawn moved to block his path again. Andrew's eyes turn
Meanwhile, Andrew had already settled into a Rolls-Royce, heading toward Jayrodale General Hospital. His phone rang, and to his surprise, it was Christina calling. Since their relationship was over, Andrew saw no reason to answer. Yet, the phone kept ringing, seemingly urgent. Frowning, Andrew finally decided to pick up. "Andrew, listen to me. Turn yourself in immediately!" Christina's voice blared through the speaker, catching Andrew off guard. "That King of Diamonds is worth 7.5 million dollars, Andrew. Have you lost your mind? I know you did this to make me happy, but have you considered the legal consequences? Turn yourself in now, while there's still time. Don't worry, with Stevens Corporation's influence in Jayrodale, I'll do my best to keep you out of jail!" Christina's voice was filled with righteous indignation, feeling disappointed in Andrew. Andrew finally understood—she thought he had stolen the King of Diamonds. "You've got it wrong. I didn't steal it," he said sim
Amidst the flurry of bodyguards, a young girl was rushed into the hospital on a stretcher. By her side, a tall, stunning woman with long flowing hair and legs clad in black stockings clutched the girl's hand desperately. Her voice trembled with emotion as she spoke, "Cece, please be okay. I'm right here, and I promise I'll save you, no matter what." Despite the urgency of the situation, many onlookers immediately recognized the woman. She was Lauren Rhodes, the heiress of the prestigious Rhodes family and widely regarded as the most beautiful woman in Jayrodale. In the city's fashion industry, Lauren was often described as a femme fatale. "Ms. Rhodes, please don't worry. Our hospital will do everything in our power to save your sister," Bernard Hackett, the hospital's deputy chief, rushed to assure her. Lauren's status and the Rhodes family's influence in Jayrodale were unparalleled. Hence, their presence demanded nothing but the utmost dedication and respect from the hospita
Lauren's face paled instantly. "What did you say? Where's Dr. Hackett? What's going on?" Bernard and Philip approached, looking apologetic. "We're sorry, Ms. Rhodes. Ms. Cecelia's condition is critical. We've done all we can." Philip added, his voice filled with frustration, "The initial treatment seemed promising, but suddenly, Ms. Cecelia's breathing weakened dramatically. It's not our lack of skill, Ms. Rhodes. We're simply facing an impossible situation." Before Philip could finish his explanation, Lauren slapped him. "Ms. Rhodes, what was that…" "You idiot!" Lauren seethed, her body trembling with rage. "Didn't you just boast about your ability to save Cece?" Philip stood there, speechless and humiliated, his cheek stinging from the blow. Then, Lauren turned to Bernard, her voice dripping with venom. "Dr. Hackett, I'll ask you one last time. Is there anyone else in this hospital who can help? If anything happens to her, you and your incompetent son will face severe