Rising from the Ashes (Andrew) novel Chapter 1570

"It's mine! All of it's mine!" Axel shouted, eyes crazed, slashing his blade like a man possessed. He had clearly gone mad, driven insane by his lust for the treasure.

With another wild swing, he lunged again.

Andrew furrowed his brow, about to knock him out cold. However, before he could move, Axel collapsed in a heap.

Andrew watched as a massive gunshot wound bloomed from Axel's back, blood pouring freely. Just like that, the cunning, obsessive village chief who had spent his life scheming to hoard the tomb's treasure for himself was dead.

From the far side of the lake, a wave of fighters stormed in.

The one who had pulled the trigger was none other than Rafael. He stood at the edge of the platform, grinning at Andrew.

"You little bastard. Not only are you still alive, but you managed to sneak in right under our noses! Well then… if the first attempt didn't kill you, the second or the third sure as hell will!"

Mosby charged ahead, voice barking like thunder. "Andrew, step away! Whatever's inside that pavilion isn't for you to touch!"

Andrew scoffed. "So I'm not worthy to reach for it, but greedy vultures like you are? Please."

Mosby's face turned red with fury. "You arrogant little punk! You're already as good as dead and still talking back? Fine. This place will be your grave!"

Leaping up from the water, Mosby's clothes fluttered as he delivered a flying kick toward Andrew from above.

A second figure screeched from the shadows, his neck wrapped with a venomous serpent as he lunged into the fray.

It was none other than Grand Viper, the martial king-level martial artist and one of Rafael's most brutal men.

Together, he and Mosby launched a two-on-one assault against Andrew.

Stanley sat in his wheelchair and urged, "Don't worry about Andrew. Focus on the Elixir of Immortality! Get it at all cost!"

At this point, the entire underground palace completely erupted into chaos.

Every group, every side, every ambition collided in one final, bloody showdown.

Beneath the dark ceiling of the ancient tomb, surrounded by priceless relics and glittering gold, a gathering of the living, none of whom belonged here, tore each other apart in pursuit of selfish dreams.

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