Chapter 108 | Killing Klen & The Trouble

Chapter 108: 108 | Killing Klen & The Trouble

Klen’s smile froze. "What?"

Gerald’s lips slowly curled upward.l as he grinned like a maniacs. "Whether you live or die has nothing to do with us. In fact, I’d prefer if you died. It will save me the trouble of killing you myself."

Klen’s face turned pale at once. "W-What are you talking about?"

Gerald licked his lips and chuckled. "You think we’re going to share almost a billion dollars with you? You betrayed your team for that amount. Who knows what you will do to us."

Klen’s face paled as he glanced backward. He saw Andrew and he a plan flashed in his head.

"What if I tell you something—"

He wasn’t able to finish his words when Andrew turned into a crimson blur.

In a single step, he appeared before the Klen like a ghost. Before anyone could react, his hand wrapped around Klen’s throat. Klen’s eyes flew wide in horror.

Andrew leaned close until only Klen could hear him. His voice was calm. Cold and Completely devoid of emotion.

"Wanting to reveal my secrets? We’ll, dead men tell no tales."

"Crack!"

Andrew twisted his wrist. Klen’s neck snapped instantly as his entire body went limp then collapsed lifelessly onto the ground.

Silence immediately swallowed the battlefield.

Even Gerald’s squad narrowed their eyes as they looked toward Andrew.

Andrew went back to stay with the squad.

The atmosphere became incomparably heavier.

As the two squads face each other.

Gerald’s squad numbered five. John’s squad also numbered five. On paper, it was an even match. In reality, the scales tipped dangerously. Andrew was the weak link, the fracture point in their formation.

Lucy, Jasmine, and Michael could likely hold their own against their counterparts in Gerald’s squad. They were seasoned, sharpened warrior with over level 25 of strength. But Andrew... Andrew was still a level 7 and he was the one they were sworn to protect. They couldn’t let him face a Level 25 or a Level 27 Ultra alone. That wasn’t training. That was simply asking to die.

Moreover, they owed him. Deep in the heart, they knew they owed him.

He had used a life-saving treasure, something rare and priceless, to pull them back from the brink. He hadn’t hesitated then. So now, even if victory was impossible, the least they could do was shield him. The very least.

John didn’t bother turning around. His voice cut through the tense silence, flat and commanding. "Leave. Right now. We’ll handle this." He paused, and though his tone softened, the steel beneath it remained.

"You remember the route to the dimensional zone’s exit, don’t you? Head there directly. Wait for us. We’ll be right behind you."

Andrew’s gaze flicked to John, then back to Gerald. His jaw tightened.

Gerald smiled. It was a lazy, venomous thing.

"Ha ha ha. There’s no need for all that. No need to run, little one." He spread his hands as if welcoming an old friend. "I’m just here to have a few discussions with you. Why don’t you come down with me to the Crimson family? The head of the family merely wants a word." His eyes glittered. "Surely you wouldn’t want the blood of your squad on your hands. You know what happens if you leave them behind, don’t you? We won’t kill them quickly. We’ll take our time. We’ll peel away everything they know about you, every secrets. And then, when they’re hollow and broken, we’ll end them, before we come for you. So, little one, why rush? Come. Let’s talk."

Andrew’s brows knitted together.

Before he could speak, Jasmine’s elbow jabbed sharply into his waist. She leaned close, her whisper fierce and urgent against his ear. "Quickly—leave. Don’t worry about us. We’ll take care of this. Just go."

Lucy’s frown was a blade. Her words cut even deeper. "Do you want to be a burden to us? If you stay while we fight, we’ll die faster. It’s better if you leave. We’ll fight more efficiently without having to guard your back every second."

Even Michael, the one who always laughed, had shed his carefree mask. His gaze was hardened as he nodded solemnly. "They’re right. You should go."

Andrew looked at them, each face etched with resolve, he shook his head slowly. "Don’t worry about me." Then he turned to John. "John, do you still have the body of the iron-eyed monkeys in the storage ring?"

John blinked, confusion breaking through his battle-ready focus. "Yes... but—"

"Spill them," Andrew said, his voice unnervingly calm. "Spill the bodies around us. Explode them into the air."

John’s frown deepened. "What are you planning? Andrew, Gerald’s strength... it’s overwhelming. No plan can—" He stopped himself, searching Andrew’s face anything that made sense. "Just leave."

"Trust me. Do it first," Andrew said.

John gritted his teeth. With a sharp motion, he retrieved the storage ring they’d taken from Clint’s corpse. A flash of light, and a two-meter-tall iron-eyed monkey corpse materialized.

Thunder crackled in John’s palm. A blinding flash, a deafening crack—and the entire body detonated into a fine crimson mist.

The shockwave scattered it into the air, and the wind, as if conspiring, carried the bloody fog straight toward Gerald’s group. In seconds, the Bloodscythe squad was cloaked in the scent of iron and death.

Gerald’s expression twisted into pure fury. He didn’t know what game they were playing, but his patience had evaporated like water on hot stone. "Alright," he snarled. "Since you’ve chosen death... Hand him over now, or every single one of you dies. This instant."

John turned to Andrew, voice tight. "Now what?"

Andrew’s smile was small, enigmatic. "Just wait. A few more seconds."

John frowned. Jasmine frowned. Lucy frowned. Michael frowned. None of them understood. Spilling monkey blood into the wind seemed like a desperate, meaningless gesture.

Gerald began to count. "Three..." He paused, malice twisting his lips. "You know what? Let’s make this interesting. I’ll count to ten. Hand him over, or I’ll come over there myself and paint the ground with your insides." He raised a finger. "One." Another finger. "Two." Then he grinned, skipping all pretense. "Ten."

"Get ready to die," he said, and killing intent blazed in his eyes like wildfire.

His squad, all mirroring their leader’s bloodthirst, stepped forward in unison.

But in that split second, the ground beneath their feet started to shake violently.

It was a deep, rhythmic tremor, like a hundred horses was marching towards them.

The vibration became intense as dust shivered on the ground and pebbles danced.

In that split second, Gerald whirled around. His face, once twisted with savage confidence, drained of color and even his hair stood on end!