"You're asking for death!" One of the older Haywood enforcers snarled and launched a palm strike toward Andrew's head.

"Get out of my way," Andrew growled without even sparing the man a glance, throwing a punch sideways in one smooth motion.

The man, a peak senior grandmaster, flew backward, his face contorted in shock and disbelief. His arm, which had met Andrew's punch, shattered instantly. He hit the ground hard, screaming in agony while clutching the mangled remains of his limb.

That brief moment of destruction was enough to jolt Seth out of his daze. He started stumbling backward and screamed, "All of you, attack him now! Kill that bastard!"

Yet, no one moved. The Haywood men froze, their faces pale with fear, looking at Andrew like they were staring at a monster. They backed away instinctively, their courage completely drained.

It was not just fear—it was terror that ran bone-deep.

Andrew's strikes were lethal and merciless, each blow either killing or disabling instan