The third floor of the bar was a whole different world, a secret chamber hidden behind reinforced steel.
Led by the man in the black suit, Andrew and Rachel stepped inside. Rachel’s face had gone pale, but Andrew remained completely calm and collected.
“Sir, this guy insisted on seeing you!” the man growled as soon as they entered.
At the far end of the chamber sat a massive black throne chair. Seated on it was a burly, broad-shouldered man with a thick beard and dark, blotchy skin. His sharp, beast-like eyes gleamed with danger at every twitch. This was Ronald, known throughout Blumedale as the Onyx Dragon King, ranked on par with Marcelo. The black blotches that covered his face gave him his name, a title he only earned after making a name for himself. Before that, people called him Onyx Serpent, a name not nearly as dignified.
“Wow. What an impressive spirit from the younger generation. Mr. Lloyd, you weren’t born in Blumedale, and I’ve never heard of you in Holtrien’s southern martial scene either. But you showed up here just a few months ago and built an empire from scratch? That’s something to admire,” Ronald said with a cold glint in his eyes and a fake smile.
Andrew responded casually, “I appreciate the compliment, sir. But compared to your reputation, my small accomplishments don’t amount to much.”
Ronald let out a hearty laugh. “Nonsense! You’re a rising legend now! Otherwise, how else would you dare barge into my turf, loud and proud? Had me thinking maybe you already took over all of Blumedale. Got me shaking in my boots, afraid to even breathe.” Though the words were polite, the tone turned darker with each sentence.
Without needing a command, 23 men seated nearby immediately stood, drawing their weapons and surrounding Andrew. In an instant, dozens of gun barrels pointed right at him. Rachel trembled from head to toe, nearly on the verge of tears. “Dragon King, please don’t! Let’s talk this through!”
Ronald’s eyes narrowed, his tone murderous. “Talk? Talk, my ass! This little punk dares to stir trouble on my turf? Fine! Since he’s so fearless, I’ll show him what a real tiger’s bite feels like!”
Yet, Andrew remained unfazed. He said flatly, “Dragon King, this isn’t exactly how you treat a guest.”
Ronald froze, then burst out laughing and turned to his men. “Did you all hear what this kid just said? He wants me to treat him like a guest! That’s rich!” His men laughed mockingly, their faces full of disdain.
“Who the hell does this guy think he is?”
“Does he think he’s Mr. Keller Senior? Or some big name like Governor McCormick?”
“Sir, quit wasting breath and just end him already!”
Ronald was soaking it in. He loved the power and the loyalty of the killers at his command, the way everything was under his control. He turned back to Andrew, ready to crush him with pure intimidation. However, what he saw made his smile falter.
Andrew’s face had not changed at all. There was no fear or anxiety. In fact, he looked bored, like this was not a life-or-death standoff, but a tedious waste of time.
Ronald’s expression darkened. “Andrew, do you even realize you’re one breath away from death?”
Andrew shrugged. “One breath away? Then go ahead. Give the order and have me shot.”
Ronald’s eyes narrowed, then he barked out a twisted laugh. “You think I won’t do it? Do you think your little power trip works for me? On my turf, you respect me or you die!”
Andrew rolled his eyes. “You talk too much. If you’ve got the guts, tell them to pull the trigger already.”
As he spoke, he leaned forward, placing his forehead right against the nearest barrel, expression daring and fearless.
The men hesitated, and their faces twitched. They looked at each other, unsure. They did not know how to handle someone this insane.
One of them finally shouted, “Sir! Say the word, I’ll kill this bastard right now!”