Chapter 899

Phantom Eye was not dead, but by the time he was dragged to West End, his condition certainly was no better than Michael’s. His internal organs were wrecked, his jaw was fractured, and he had a concussion. On top of that, several of his nerves were completely shot.

“Wake him up!”

At Andrew’s command, a bucket of ice-cold water was dumped over Phantom Eye’s body.

His whole body jolted as he gasped awake. The second he regained consciousness, he started coughing uncontrollably, his mouth still dripping with blood.

“You’re Phantom Eye, the guy Kenny sent to pull off a rescue, huh?” Andrew said casually. “Doesn’t look like you did too well, man—you’re in pretty bad shape.”

Phantom Eye’s expression darkened as he scanned his surroundings. “You’re the first person who’s dared to look down on me. I might be a little banged up right now, but killing you would still be a piece of cake.”

Andrew smirked. “Are you sure about that? You’re just a little banged up?”

Phantom Eye’s face stiffened, but he refused to back down. “Of course. I’m a ranked fighter on the Underworld Index. You think some damn woman could really do this to me?”

Andrew did not respond. Instead, he casually motioned behind him and called out, “Shiloh, get over here. This guy’s talking trash about you–called you a ‘damn woman’.”

A veiled Shiloh strolled forward, her movements calm and unhurried. When Phantom Eye laid eyes on her, his entire body shuddered, like a small animal sensing its natural predator.

Step by step, Shiloh walked toward him.

Phantom Eye’s bravado cracked as he flinched. His voice wavered as he stuttered, “H–Hey, crazy lady, what are you doing? I was just caught off guard before! If you’ve got the guts, wait until I’m fully healed, and then I’ll—”

She did not wait for him to finish, and two brutal slaps landed square on his face, sending his massive, two-hundred-pound frame flying. He hit the ground hard, kicking up dust, and his vision spun as he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Dazed, Phantom Eye forced his head up, barely able to focus on Shiloh’s face. One bloodshot eye trembled with undisguised fear.

“L–Lady, let’s talk this out,” he rasped desperately. “No need for violence… Hurting people ruins the mood, y’know?”

His voice was hoarse, but he was obviously begging.

Phantom Eye–ranked 35 on the Underworld Index, a man whose ego had soared through the rooftops in Blumedale’s underground scene–had just pissed himself in front of a woman.

He had no choice. He had fought at least a hundred top-tier martial artists in his lifetime, maybe more. Yet, he had never met someone like Shiloh.

She looked soft, like some harmless little kitten, but the way she fought was like a goddamn wrecking ball. She did not just beat him–she nearly ended his entire existence.

This was a first for him, and it was a painful lesson.

“I got him back for you, just like you asked,” Shiloh said, turning to Andrew. “Didn’t kill him.”

Her voice was completely indifferent, like she had just smacked around some lowlife on the street. Then, with no change in expression, she glanced down at her sneaker and sighed.

She added, “But my shoes got wrecked. You’re paying me back for them.”

Andrew chuckled. “No problem at all. You and Fran can go shopping later–she’ll buy you a new pair.”

Shiloh actually looked amused. “Alright. But remember you owe me a new pair. And I want Universoles ones.”

Francesca blinked in confusion. “Wait, Shiloh, you’re into Universoles? I thought you’d prefer international brands?”

Shiloh shook her head. “Not really about liking it. Just supporting homegrown brands.”

Francesca laughed. “Damn, you’re a real one. Guess I’ll get a pair, too.”

Andrew sighed as he glanced at Phantom Eye’s wrecked, twitching body.

Poor guy. He had just set foot in Jayrodale, and now he was already half-dead.

“Phantom Eye,” Andrew said, smiling down at him. “So, what do you say? Ready to have a civilized conversation now?”

Phantom Eye did not dare make a sound. Instead, he craned his neck, his eye darting toward the doorway.

He whispered urgently, “Wait, hold on. S–She left, right?”