Rising from the Ashes (Andrew) novel Chapter 921
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Key: Rising from the Ashes (Andrew) Chapter 921
Chapter 921
Elon stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Andrew.
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Michael quickly warned, “Elon, don’t do anything stupid. Andrew doesn’t mess around–he’ll hit you without a second thought!”
Elon sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. He declared dramatically, “I’m Elon Golding, the epitome of money, glory, and power! Andrew, do you even know who you’re messing with-”
Before he could finish, Andrew slapped him twice. The force sent Elon’s nearly 400–pound body flying backward. Blood gushed from his nose and mouth as he crashed to the ground, looking utterly humiliated.
Andrew casually wiped his hands and said, “The epitome of money, glory, and power? You’re more like a loser. Look at yourself now. You’re nothing but a pathetic mess.”
Elon was stunned, his face twisted in rage. His eyes blazed with fury as he roared, “You little punk! How dare you hit me? Do you have a death wish for your entire family?”
Kenny stood frozen, completely shocked. After all, Elon was a big shot in Blumedale, where no one dared to cross him. But here in Jayrodale, he was just slapped down like a nobody. How could Andrew have the guts to do something like this?
“Kill him!” Elon screamed, his voice shaking with rage. Reuben might be gone, but the Golding family still had a hundred elite bodyguards on standby. They were more than enough to tear Andrew to pieces.
Kenny tried to calm him down. “Elon, think this through! Michael is still in his hands!” he pleaded, but Elon was beyond reason.
“I don’t care! If I don’t crush this guy today, I don’t deserve the title of the invincible dragon!” Elon shouted, his voice cracking.
He even started reciting his mantra again, “I’m Elon Golding, the epitome of money, glory, and power-
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Andrew had to admit that he was impressed by the guy’s ability to keep up the act even now. Nonetheless, he was not in the mood for theatrics. With a swift motion, he tossed Michael’s body straight at Elon, cutting off his poetic rambling mid–sentence.
“Attack!” Andrew commanded, his voice cold and sharp.
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