On the 99th floor of the Martial Tower, Andrew stood calmly at the entrance to the final level. He said, "Behind me is the last floor. The Octogram is Holtrien’s treasure. Ezekiel, if you want it, all you have to do is step over my dead body."
Ezekiel remained silent, gripping the Spirit-Anchor Pill in his hand with a stormy look.
Isabelle followed close behind and stuck out her tongue. "I’d advise you not to take it. Andrew is sly as a fox, and no one ever knows what he’s really planning. For all you know, that pill could be poison. The second you swallow it, you’d drop dead on the spot."
Ezekiel let out a cold laugh. "If that were true, then Holtrien would lose all credibility. What great power poisons their opponents and calls it honor?"
Isabelle giggled. "Fine, if you don’t believe me, go ahead and take it. Either way, I’m confident Andrew can take you down without breaking a sweat."
Ezekiel snapped, "Andrew, have you thought about the consequences of poisoning me? Mr. Sloan and Tristars Group’s chairman would never let you off the hook!"
Andrew smiled faintly. "Why are you rambling on about useless stuff? You’re just stalling for time to recover your strength. But natural recovery won’t be nearly as effective as taking the pill. I’ll give you three more hours; that’s exactly enough time to complete three meditation cycles."
With that, he sat down on the floor and closed his eyes, entering a meditative state.
Isabelle bounced over to him, gritting her teeth. "Andrew, are you serious about this?"
Andrew kept his eyes closed. "Stop trying to scare him. I like the real deal, not half-measures."
Isabelle sighed. "Alright, then. I’ll just wait to see how this ends. And if you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, I’ll be even more entertained."
Ezekiel glared at Andrew, fuming as the man casually meditated in front of him.
How dare this bastard treat him like nothing?
He lowered his gaze to the pill in his hand, then threw his head back and swallowed it in one go.
Immediately, the medicinal power of the eighth-grade divine pill spread through his body like a flooding stream.
He thought, 'It really is an eighth-grade Spirit-Anchor Pill. Why would he do this?'
If he did not know who Andrew was, Ezekiel would almost suspect that Andrew was a Soryan spy planted deep within Holtrien to help him succeed. However, that notion was more absurd than the world’s biggest joke.
In Waylon’s assessment, Andrew was considered one of Sorya’s greatest enemies. He ranked just below Holtrien’s National Advisor, Reginald, and a handful of other towering pillars of the nation.
In short, Waylon saw Andrew as a thorn in his side, a constant threat. He had even bluntly stated that for Ezekiel, Sorya’s rising star, Andrew would be his biggest obstacle.
Cross that hurdle, and the sky was the limit. Fail to cross it, and he would collapse, reduced to fodder.
It was like two mountains pressing against each other: one was destined to fall, while the other would tower above all peaks.
'Whatever his scheme is, letting me recover to full strength is the beginning of his downfall!' A cold smirk crept across Ezekiel’s lips.
He focused intently, channeling the pill’s medicinal power with everything he had to accelerate his recovery.
Time ticked away slowly.
Isabelle waited, her nerves growing more frayed by the minute. Normally, she did not care about national affairs, honor, or disgrace. The only thing she cared about was when her breasts would finally develop.
However, watching these two just sit there without fighting was driving her crazy. One seemed utterly carefree, as if nothing mattered, while the other was steadily recovering his strength, his aura growing thicker and more powerful by the moment.
Anyone with half a brain knew to kick someone when they were at their lowest.
Moreover, Ezekiel’s challenge was an affront to Holtrien’s dignity and the military’s reputation. It would be better to bully him with superior force than to take careless risks.
At this critical juncture, anyone should understand that basic principle. Yet, Andrew did the exact opposite. He not only allowed Ezekiel to rest, but he also gave him an eighth-grade divine pill to aid his recovery.
If that was not insane, it was the closest thing to it.
“Sometimes, I really don’t understand him at all,” Luna admitted through gritted teeth at military headquarters. Her irritation simmered as she forced herself to stay calm.
She added, “I first met him at Gabo Creek. Back then, I barely noticed him and never bothered to respect him. Even so, he let it slide with that calm, almost indifferent air of his. But now, with the nation’s honor on the line, when everything is at stake, instead of standing firm, he decides to go completely off the rails.”