Andrew glanced at his palm, where a faint black mark had appeared—the toxic imprint of Gordon's Plaguebringer's Palm. However, with a slight shift of his internal energy, the venomous mark dissolved into nothing, as though it had never existed.

"Your so-called Plaguebringer's Palm feels more like an itch," Andrew stated coldly. "It's not even worth mentioning."

With that, he lunged forward. His voice dropped to a frigid growl as he taunted, "That was just a warm-up, Gordon. So what if you're a peak senior grandmaster? Killing you will be child's play!"

In the blink of an eye, the two of them exchanged over a dozen ferocious blows.

"You insolent brat!" Gordon bellowed, enraged. "I swear I'll crush you under my palm!"

However, Andrew pressed the attack relentlessly, forcing Gordon to retreat with every strike.

On the other hand, Gordon's anger flared. He was supposed to be the dominant one here, the predator toying with his prey. He had expected Andrew to cower, maybe beg fo