In the seafood market, Paul, dressed in a security guard uniform, walked forward with a flashlight, inspecting various areas.
The market was pitch black at night, with only the beam of his flashlight moving around.
Many shops and stalls stored valuable catches and machinery. Without security guards, they would inevitably attract homeless people and thieves.
That's why the pay for this job even exceeded what he earned at the supermarket.
Unfortunately, the hours were shorter.
Patrolling from 10 p.m. to 2 a.m., he would finish around the time the market vendors began preparing their goods.
After this job ended, he had to rush home to rest, as he needed to be at the supermarket by 8 a.m. the next morning.
On weekends, he also had a temporary job washing dishes at a restaurant.
Only by working like this could he support his family.
He just had to endure it. Once the children grew a bit older, around twelve or thirteen, they could start working and contributing to the household.
As he thought this, Paul regretted going to see that Voodoo Medium earlier that night. It was clearly a scam, and it had left him without time for dinner, forcing him to settle for a cold sandwich and a bottle of cola.
Footsteps echoed from a nearby aisle—it was Old Billy, the Black security guard who patrolled with him.
"Hey, Billy, good evening. You don't look too good. What's wrong, old buddy?" Paul asked.
Old Billy walked with a noticeable stagger, his face covered in sweat, and he even seemed to be in pain.
"Evening, Paul… cough… Ah, it's been so cold these past few days. I don't know what's wrong—I've been having diarrhea, and painkillers aren't helping at all…" Old Billy mumbled, his voice almost resembling a groan.
Paul shook his head and said:
"Buddy, you should take some time off and see a doctor. You…"
But then he remembered the other man's circumstances, realizing that Billy needed money even more than he did. He shook his head again and sighed:
"Ah, actually, I've had a cold these past few days too, and my ankle is swollen, but…"
Before he could finish, Paul suddenly froze.
His ankle.
Why wasn't his ankle hurting anymore?
Only then did he realize it. He quickly shone the flashlight on his ankle.
The previously red and swollen ankle had now subsided and looked much better.
No wonder he had forgotten about the pain while patrolling tonight.
Moreover, Paul suddenly noticed that he wasn't coughing much either.
He used to cough with almost every sentence, but now it was only an occasional cough or two.
He had also felt dizzy earlier today, but that was gone too.
His eyes widened in shock as he stood there, stunned.
Had the exorcism worked!?
Was that Voodoo Medium not a fraud!?
As someone who did heavy physical labor, he had suffered numerous sprains and bruises before and knew exactly how long the healing process usually took.
Even now, his right thumb often ached faintly.
With the cold symptoms on top of that, a full recovery would have taken at least a week, and if he was unlucky, it might have worsened.
And now, in just one night, he had recovered at least more than half!
Back in his hometown in Mexico, he had seen many Voodoo Mediums, and even some who called themselves masters, but in his view, they were all frauds.
Had he encountered a real one this time!?
"Paul, what's wrong?" Old Billy asked with concern from the side.
Unable to hide the shock in his heart, Paul took a deep breath and said:
"I'm fine... Old Billy, if you trust me, I know someone..."
...
Inside the tent, Wayne looked thoughtfully at the two patients David had brought back.
They were two homeless people.
One had an obvious ulcer about four to five centimeters long on his arm, emitting a foul odor, and even had maggot-infested flesh.
The other was in slightly better condition, but he had clearly just used an Enhancement Drug. He sat there motionless, as if he had already entered another world.
David leaned close to Wayne's ear and said:
"Bro, these are homeless people I met on the street. They both need treatment, and... they have money. They just exchanged food stamps for cash and were planning to buy Enhancement Drugs... Both of them aren't quite right in the head."
Wayne felt speechless.
His brother's intentions were good—trying to find money for him—but he couldn't bear to take from homeless people who relied on food stamps to survive...
As if sensing Wayne's reluctance, David whispered again:
"These two were originally planning to use the money to buy Enhancement Drugs. If they bought them, they'd only die faster."
With that, he slipped out of the tent, leaving the treatment space to Wayne.
Wayne sighed. As someone from the East, he still couldn't bring himself to do things that were completely without principles.
Perhaps this was the advantage of the West in international confrontations—lower human rights and lower moral standards.
He then turned to the man with maggots on his arm and asked:
"Symptoms?"
The man raised his arm and said:
"My arm was injured two months ago, and it hasn't healed... Also, I've been running a fever..."
[General Medicine] activated!
After a brief examination of the man's arm, Wayne found it was a bacterial infection. He pulled out a bottle of high-proof vodka he had bought from a discount supermarket and said:
"Bear with it."
He then poured the vodka onto the man's wound.
"Ah——————" The previously sickly Black man let out a piercing scream, his voice rising and falling, even carrying the distinctive tone of Black spiritual singing. The homeless man beside him, who had been meditating, was startled awake and stared blankly at the other man, still motionless.
Without waiting for the man to react, Wayne quickly picked up a dagger and skillfully removed all the squirming maggots from the wound.
[Tactical Dagger Usage (Specialization)]
Who would have thought the first time he used this skill would be to pick maggots from a homeless man's wound.
After cleaning and removing the maggots, Wayne cut away a small piece of rotting flesh from the man's arm and bandaged it with a roll of gauze.
The entire process was quick. Before the man could pass out from the pain, Wayne had already finished.
Then, Wayne slapped the man's forehead and shouted:
"Your wound has been tainted by evil spirits. Now, I will officially help you exorcise them!"
He chanted a series of incantations before taking out a cup of milk and saying to the man:
"Drink this cup of milk!"
[You performed a treatment. General Medicine skill improved (Intermediate 60% + 5%). Experience +5]
The sweaty, homeless black man immediately downed the glass of milk in one gulp, then asked gratefully:
"Sir, thank you, sir... How much do I owe you?"
He wasn't a fool. Even with his Enhancement Drug addiction, he understood clearly that Wayne's treatment was definitely effective.
Just the procedure of cleaning his wound was something he could only receive at a hospital.
Of course, it hurt like hell too.
Wayne looked at the black man before him, who appeared at least a decade older than his actual age. He was probably only around twenty, but looked closer to forty. Life on the streets made it uncertain how much longer he had left.
Wayne sighed and waved his hand, saying:
"The evil spirit has mostly been driven away. No charge this time. You can go. Remember to drink more milk and eat nutritious food... If you still don't get better, you can come find me again."
Faced with someone at the absolute bottom of society, he couldn't bring himself to take money.
He needed money, but he wasn't a scavenging vulture.
Compared to those shameless Westerners, he'd rather remain human.
"Thank you, God bless you! Oh, I mean, may the Voodoo God bless you..." The man thanked Wayne gratefully, then ducked out of the tent and left.
Wayne sighed again. He realized he had suddenly developed a habit of sighing. He then reached out and patted the other homeless man who had been zoning out:
"Describe your symptoms."
[You acquired the skill: Furniture Repair (Specialization)]