“Mr. Hopkins, are you alright?” The Hopkins men helped Timothy up from the ground, but before he could answer, Diego snapped at them.

“Get out of the way! Can’t you see he just got stabbed with a needle? Of course, he’s not fine! Use your brain!”

He glared fiercely at the clueless men before turning back to his son. “Tim, how could you take such a heavy hit? With your skill, that shouldn’t have happened!”

Timothy’s face was pale as he answered nervously, “Dad, don’t mess with Andrew. Whatever grudge he has with the Driscoll family, we must stay out of it. We absolutely can’t get involved!”

Diego’s tone darkened. “But he humiliated us, came straight to our door, and hurt you. Tim, do you want revenge? Give me a straight answer.”

Timothy swallowed hard and shook his head repeatedly. “Revenge? Not a chance… Not in a million years! Andrew is too strong… Terrifying, even. I couldn’t even see how he moved when he struck me. Dad, the Driscolls have crossed paths with a real monster this time. When titans clash, the little guys die first. We absolutely can’t get involved!”

The Hopkins family members looked at each other. Truth be told, they had held back earlier because Andrew had Timothy in his grip. Now that he was free, they could have attacked with everything they had. Nonetheless, seeing Timothy, the victim himself, completely deflated and unwilling to even think of revenge, the entire family’s fighting spirit quietly faded.

Diego took a deep breath and muttered, “Walter is as good as finished. Thank goodness the Hopkinses haven’t made Andrew a mortal enemy yet.”

Just then, a thunderous crash echoed from the pavilion by the back garden pond, followed by Walter’s furious, desperate roar.

“Andrew, are you really going to push me to the edge?!”

Andrew gave no reply. Only more deep, rumbling impacts shook the Hopkins residence.

It sounded like two wild beasts locked in a brutal fight.

All the Hopkins family members shuddered, and no one dared to make a sound.

The Driscolls had always been predators, never prey. Yet here was Walter, one of their high–ranking leaders, cornered and fighting for his life. The continuous roars indicated that he was already in a desperate struggle, caught in a life–or–death situation.

‘Just exactly how strong is Andrew?’

This bone–chilling question simultaneously arose in the hearts of all the Hopkins family members.

Eric stood with his arms crossed, calmly watching the fight from inside the waterside gazebo. He noticed a teapot on the table and poured himself a cup, though he did not drink it, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

He was a clean freak, and he was always scented like fine cologne.

He twirled the cup lazily in his hand. Though he looked casual, his eyes were sharp, studying Andrew’s every move. After a while, he shook his head and looked away.

What was the point of watching?

This monster could probably beat him to a pulp even without mastering the Inferno Strike. Eric was a martial arts genius, but for the first time, he understood what a true genius among geniuses looked like.

He doubted even Jerome had imagined that Andrew would one day master the Inferno Strike.