Chapter 676

Gordon staggered backward, his eyes wide with fear as he gasped out, “Why don’t we just end this here? Let’s call it even. If you push me too far, I’ll fight to the death—and I guarantee you won’t walk away unscathed.”

He was retreating frantically now, his voice trembling beneath the bravado. Survival, not pride, was his priority. Facing Aspen’s disappointment was one thing—but losing his life was another matter entirely.

More than that, Gordon was struggling to process the reality in front of him. Jayrodale was supposed to be a stagnant backwater town. How had a terrifying powerhouse like Andrew emerged from this place?

He thought returning from Bridgefields after years in hiding would allow him to dominate this city easily. Instead, he had stumbled into a nightmare—a young monster who dismantled him with brutal efficiency. The realization gnawed at his sanity. His entire worldview, built on decades of superiority, was collapsing. Andrew’s voice cut through the tension, cold and unforgiving. “Now you want to call it even? Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”

His eyes gleamed as he closed the gap in an instant.

Before Gordon could react, Andrew’s hands blurred, striking multiple points across his torso with pinpoint precision. Each blow landed with a sickening crack, shattering bone and rupturing ligaments.

Gordon screamed, the sound raw and primal, as agony exploded through his body.

Andrew ignored the man’s cries. He flipped his wrist, and three silver needles appeared between his fingers. Without hesitation, he drove them into the grotesque hump on Gordon’s back.

The needles pierced deep into the swollen tissue. Immediately, three jets of foul, black blood shot from the wounds, releasing a pungent, toxic stench into the night air.

Gordon howled in agony and turned to flee, relying on his legs, the only limbs still functioning.

Andrew did not move. He simply stood there, watching with cold indifference as Gordon hobbled away, desperate and broken.

“You can try running,” Andrew said, voice calm and measured. “But you won’t get far. I’ve already pierced your death node—you’re living on borrowed time.”

“And if you’re wondering why it feels familiar,” he continued, tilting his head slightly, “it’s because I tampered with it back at Moonlit Apothecary. It was a warning. One you were too arrogant to heed.”

“You should’ve left my people alone. But you didn’t. And now you’ll pay for that choice.”

As his final word fell, Gordon’s back gave a grotesque shudder. With a sickening pop, the hump on his back exploded, spraying his entire body with the toxic, corrosive blood.

“No!” Gordon screamed, his voice shrill with terror. The poison ate through his skin instantly, black veins spiderwebbing across his body.

The pain was unimaginable. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest as his skin sizzled and disintegrated.

“Please… Andrew… please,” he begged, his voice raw and broken. “Spare me. I’ll do anything you want!”

Andrew did not answer. He simply turned away, walked to his car, and started the engine.

With a single press of the accelerator, the vehicle roared to life and sped away from Bamboo Hill Estate.

Behind him, Gordon’s body convulsed on the ground. Desperately, he shoved fistfuls of detox pills into his mouth, choking on them as they dissolved into foam.

Yet, it was useless. The toxin coursing through his veins was far beyond any remedy. His eyes rolled back as he convulsed violently.

Within five agonizing minutes, his body collapsed, lifeless. Even then, the poison did not stop.

The skin melted away, followed by muscle, tendons, and finally, bone. Half an hour later, the only thing left of Gordon was a bubbling pool of black, rancid sludge.

Back at the Stevens mansion, Aspen glanced at the darkening sky. By now, she figured Gordon had already taken care of Andrew.

Hours had passed—surely the fight was over. Andrew was probably just a rotting corpse by now.

Unable to suppress her curiosity any longer, she dialed Gordon’s number. However, there was no answer.

Her brows knitted together, and she muttered, “Maybe he’s still busy finishing the job.”

Gordon was meticulous. He would not just kill Andrew—he would destroy the evidence and erase every trace of the body.

“Yeah,” Aspen said to herself. “He’s probably dealing with the body right now.”