Rising from the Ashes (Andrew and Lauren)

As Andrew looked up toward the upper bleachers, a figure cloaked in black with hands tucked inside wide sleeves gazed back down at him.

Walter's eyes were expressionless, like a still, bottomless lake. He had not come today to interfere but was simply here to witness Andrew's sudden and brutal downfall.

Andrew had no idea what kind of venom Walter harbored in his heart. Even if he knew, he would not have cared.

He climbed up into the ring, shrugging off his jacket to loosen up before the fight.

Lauren stepped forward, caught his coat, and gave him a fist bump. "You got this, honey!"

Andrew grinned. "Don't worry."

Joe remained expressionless, but the slight twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed the storm brewing inside him.

"She even calls you 'honey'. So, you two are already that close?" His voice was cold.

Andrew chuckled. "Mr. Driscoll, have you ever even been in a relationship?" Joe snapped, "Answer me. Otherwise, I might not be able to hold back later."

Andrew shrugged. "No need to lose your cool, Mr. Driscoll. You really ought to experience a serious relationship. When two people are in love, they call each other 'honey' or even treat each other as husband and wife. It's totally normal!" Joe barked, "Ridiculous! You two aren't married. There was no ceremony, no vows, no official status. Treating each other that way is disrespectful to tradition!"

Andrew smirked. "Tradition? You mean that old-fashioned conservative stuff? Please, that stuff's long outdated. And even if we haven't signed papers, Lauren is still my wife in every way that matters. That's not up for debate."

Joe's stance shifted. His aura surged intensely around him. "Andrew, congratulations. You've officially pissed me off, and that's going to cost you."

Andrew tilted his head with a weird look. "Oh, wow, Mr. Driscoll. Is this what rage looks like from the heir of a luxury family? Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm a guy. I don't swing that way. If you're trying to look sexy and intense, you might want to save that for the ladies!"

Joe growled, "Enough chatter. Let's settle this with our fists!"

Andrew kicked off his shoes and rolled his shoulders. He cracked his neck, then narrowed his eyes as a sharp, focused energy lit up within them.

"You said it. I've been itching for a real fight. It's been way too long since I got to let loose in a brawl like this. Just don't disappoint me."

Joe glanced sideways, surprised for a second by the sheer presence and power Andrew suddenly gave off.

It was unexpectedly impressive, but that was all.

"Get ready!" Joe called out.

In a blur, he crossed 20 meters in a flash, vanishing like a phantom as he appeared right in front of Andrew. With a thunderous roar, he launched a punch straight toward Andrew's face.

Thunder seemed to crack across the ring.

Lauren, Liliana, and the others all held their breath, eyes wide, palms slick with sweat.

From the shadows above, Walter's

mouth curled into a cruel, satisfied smirk. "Nothing but a weak nobody. How delusional. Mr. Driscoll's strength has grown again... his progress is frightening."

A loud bang echoed as Andrew raised both arms and blocked Joe's punch head-on. The force behind it was brutal, and pure power surged through him and sent him skidding backward across the ring.

Joe shouted, "Let's go again!"

He raised his fists, his stance sharp and flowing like a crane in mid-strike. His footwork danced between feint and force, trailing afterimages as he moved.

In just seconds, Joe fired off over a hundred strikes at Andrew, moving with the speed and intensity of a hurricane.

Shiloh yawned and watched lazily from the side. She curled her lip and muttered, "Didn't expect the Driscoll pretty boy to hit this hard."

Lauren clutched her hands nervously. "What about Andrew? Shiloh, can he really hold him off?"noveldrama

Shiloh replied casually, "Relax. Your man's just playing with him right now."

Finally, Andrew struck back. His back foot touched the very edge of the ring. One more step and he would fall off, which would mean losing the match.

But right in that narrow space, Andrew's right hand curved into a spiral, tracing a perfect arc before he thrust it forward with force.