Rising from the Ashes (Andrew) novel Chapter 1371

On the platform, Mosby and Andrew stood on opposite ends, locked in a silent stare. The original third contender, Thomas, had already left in quiet defeat.

Mosby said, "Andrew, a shared first place is a win-win for both of us. Why not just take the prize and walk away happy? That way, we both leave this on a high note."

He was still trying to talk Andrew out of the final match.

Andrew glanced at him and replied with a light laugh. "Dr. Lake, are you chickening out?"

Mosby's face darkened. "Me? Scared? You think that's possible? I'm suggesting this for our benefit. I've seen your skills now—they're no less than mine. But if you want to surpass me, you'd need at least another ten, maybe 20 years."

Andrew rolled his eyes, clearly losing patience. "Mosby, quit blowing smoke. You know damn well that when it comes to medicine, you're not even fit to carry my bag."

That blatant slap in the face sent Mosby into a rage. His eyes flared, and he roared, "Fine! Then I'll fight you to the bitter end! If I don't make you taste humiliating defeat today, I'm not worthy of being called a medical master!"

To be honest, if this were not the Grand Medical Summit, and more like an underground brawl, he might have already gone for Andrew's throat. The kid was just that insufferable.

Of course, going off-script like that would have only backfired—he would get destroyed either way.

On the judges' platform, Preston and Clifford leaned forward and asked, "Gentlemen, how would you like to compete?"

This was uncharted territory. In the Summit's entire history, a Round 11 had never happened before, so they looked completely lost.

Mosby scoffed and clasped his hands behind his back, striking a poised and dignified stance. "As the senior here, I'll give you the first move. Andrew, don't go telling others I bullied you. Go ahead—whatever tricks you've got, I'll take them all."

That pretentious air somehow won him a few nods of approval from the crowd—he still carried the aura of a medical master.

Andrew replied flatly, "Why don't you go ahead and pick the challenge? If I do it, it might be too hard, and you'll just say I'm being unfair."

Mosby's face flushed. It felt like getting slapped across the face in front of a full house. His hand trembled as he pointed at Andrew. "You little punk, how dare you! Name the challenge. If you can stump me, I'll give you the win, no questions asked. You'll be the sole champion of this Grand Medical Summit—I'll concede without hesitation!"