?Chapter 1248:


    Another month passed, and Harlee’s strategies had effectively cornered Waylon. On one quiet night, Waylon was alone in his vi abroad. The ground…


    The floor was eerily silent, with windows wide open. Waylon sat on the living room sofa, methodically arranging his weapons. His focus remained on the task at hand, ignoring his subordinate who was rying thetest failed n from hisptop. After sterilizing the final dagger, Waylon snapped theptop shut. He stood, daggers in hand, and moved stealthily into the night.


    The vi grounds were unusually quiet, the usual delegation of guards and hired assassins eerily absent.


    Opening the front door, Waylon spotted a familiar silhouette. A subtle smile appeared on his face as he returned to the living room, turned on the lights, and settled confidently into his chair to make coffee. He ced two cups on the coffee table, sipping from one.


    Everything appeared peaceful.


    But as he reached to refill his cup, a sudden sh left him holding only broken pieces.


    “Finally,” Waylon uttered coolly, tossing the fragments onto the table and reclining in his chair, eyeing the arrivals casually. “Miss Sanderson, I was beginning to wonder how much longer I would have to wait for you to visit.”


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    Harlee’s expression was stern as she swiftly threw a hidden weapon at Waylon.


    Waylon dodged it effortlessly, merely shifting his head aside.


    With a swift motion, Harlee grabbed Waylon’s shoulder, pulling him from his seat with such force that he crashed to the floor.


    Waylon was stunned by her strength and speed. He hadn’t expected her to be this skillful in only four months. She had grown significantly more formidable than she had been in theirst encounter.


    Waylon reached for her shoulder, his hand snapping forward with lethal intent.


    However, what he considered a fatal attack was trivial for Harlee. She easily dodged and countered with a devastating strike.


    A severe blow to Waylon’s chest sent him staggering, coughing up dark blood as he fell.


    “This can’t be real!” Waylon gasped in shock, unable to take his eyes off Harlee. “How did you gain such power in just four months? Was it the poison? You must have poisoned it!”


    Waylon was more willing to believe that Harlee had secretly poisoned him than to admit she had outmatched him in skill.


    “Humph!” Harlee’s coldugh echoed as she kicked Waylon, her disgust clear. “Do you honestly think you’re worth all this trouble?”


    Inside the vi, the sounds of fighting reverberated through the halls. Rhys’ and Harlee’s men shed with the ones Waylon had secretly stationed.


    Rhys stepped forward, pulling Harlee into his arms with a concerned expression. “You must be exhausted from the fight, darling. Let me take over. You can sit back and rest.”


    After saying that, Rhys delivered a savage kick to Waylon’s stomach. The force of the blow caused internal injuries.


    Waylon spat out another mouthful of blood, his mind reeling. He was stunned by how swiftly everything had spiraled in just four short months. The trap he had crafted with such pride had now be his undoing.


    Waylony on the floor, unable to move. The vi grew quieter as the sounds of battle outside began to fade, the cleanup already underway. When Waylon saw this, he let out a derisive smirk and said smugly, “Miss Sanderson, you are still too green. Do you think you can beat me? Try again when you’re more seasoned.”


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