Man With Super Medical Skill (Matthew)

On the street, Matthew held several documents in his hand, flipping through them carefully. Even with his back turned to the group, it was as if he could sense their thoughts.

"To destroy someone, you must first let them lose themselves in madness," he said softly. "The time isn't right yet, don't rush."

Behind him, Shawn, holding a hot dog, and the black-clad servant were both stunned. Matthew's words were clearly meant for them.

"Doctor, you're amazing!"

"You're a modern-day miracle worker, bringing people back from the brink!"

"Anyone who dares say the witch doctor is a fraud better watch out I'll knock 'em out!"

Excited voices rose from the crowd ahead, catching Matthew's attention. He put the documents into the small backpack Shawn was carrying and, on a whim, fished out a bag of spiced peanuts. Casually, he strolled over to the edge of the crowd.

Thanks to his height, Matthew could just make out what was happening at the center. A middle-aged man was there, skin darkened from years in the sun, his head wrapped in layers of scarves. His clothes were mostly black, with accents of other colors, giving him an appearance reminiscent of traditional dress from Orleans.

The middle-aged man was crouched next to an unconscious figure lying on the ground, his rough hand pressing rhythmically on the man's chest in an unusual pattern.

Suddenly, the unconscious man jerked to the side and began violently vomiting onto the ground, expelling what looked like purple remnants of something.

The witch doctor looked at the man, who was slowly regaining consciousness, and sternly said, "You'll eat anything, won't you? If you'd waited another three hours, you would've died."

The newly awakened man's face was pale, his eyes wide with fear and a fanatical admiration directed toward the witch doctor.

His family rushed over, falling to their knees before the witch doctor. "Thank you, great witch doctor, for saving my son!"

"It's nothing," the witch doctor waved dismissively, but he added a warning, "Just make sure he eats light food for a while."

As the family left with the man in tow, the surrounding crowd's admiration for the witch doctor only grew louder.

"Witch Doctor, you're incredible!"

"He really isn't a fraud after all."

"I can't believe he's this good..."

While everyone praised the witch doctor, Matthew's eyes flashed with a cold glint. He had noticed the look of fervor in the man's eyes after he had finished his treatment. That kind of fanaticism wasn't typical for someone who had just been saved. No, this was something far more intense-a kind of fervent devotion that seemed almost like brainwashing.

As Matthew pondered, the witch doctor addressed the crowd, "Folks, I've got other business to attend to today. If any of you ever feel unwell, come see me at the healing shop in Willow Alley on the east side of

town."

With that, he bowed to the crowd, slung a medicine box over his back, and walked away. The crowd parted willingly, allowing him to pass.

Matthew watched as the witchProperty © NôvelDrama.Org.

doctor disappeared into the distance

but didn't follow. He had other

matters to attend to, specifically the transfer of ownership of the neighborhood. He had no time to deal with the witch doctor at the moment.

From his observation, the fanaticism induced by the witch doctor seemed like an invisible force, something operating on a mental level. Dealing with it would be easy later, so there was no rush. He led his group in the direction of the Martial League. Handling the transfer documents would be troublesome, so Matthew planned to visit Errol and have him help finalize the paperwork.