Medical Genius Unspeakable Marriage (Matthew Larson) novel Chapter 3738

By then, Matthew had let his fake wounds heal just enough for him to stand and move freely.

He passed out bottles of Kiss of God, placing one into every soldier's hand. The men lunged at them like starving wolves, each desperate to snatch his share.

Serpent's face twisted with fury. His voice cracked sharp and raw as he barked, "Not a single one of you brought back anything useful, yet you drink like you've earned it!"

The outburst slipped before he could stop it. The regret hit instantly, bitter and heavy. His own throat burned with want, but his pride kept his hands still.

Matthew saw it—the hunger flashing behind Serpent's eyes. He reached into his pack, pulled out two more bottles, and held them toward him.

"Captain, these men fought hard for you, even if they failed. This ground is still new to them. Let them drink. I'll keep making more."

For the first time, Serpent's hard expression cracked. A faint smile tugged at his lips. He snatched the bottles, tipped them back, and drained them in quick swallows.

The second the drink hit him, his body lit up with fire. His men felt the same. Their excitement swelled, wild and jagged, as though something inside had been unchained.

"Move out. Before the sun's up, we'll take another street."

Serpent knew two days had already slipped away without results. If today ended empty again, the envoy would rip him apart.

His title as captain could vanish in an instant.

Fueled by Kiss of God, the gang charged forward, a fresh blaze burning in their veins.

But as soon as they reached the district, exhaustion crashed over them like a tidal wave. Their strides slowed, knees buckling, bodies begging to collapse.

"Captain, I can't take another step. I need to rest."

"Same here. We've been up all night. I'm done."

...

The complaints poured from every corner. Some had already sunk to the ground, eyes closing, drifting toward sleep where they stood.

Serpent himself was running on fumes. At last, he ordered them to rest in a patch of woods nearby.

The moment they touched the ground, their snores rolled through the trees, heavy and loud, like storms breaking across the sky.

The gunfire echoed, sharp and final. Then silence smothered the woods. Only then did Serpent see it plain. They were hooked. Kiss of God owned them now. Without a steady flow, the hunger would drive them to madness.

"I knew it. That b*stard Sogan never had good intentions. He never would have handed us Kiss of God so freely unless there was a catch."

The Medusa Gang, shaken with fear, turned back toward the cave. Only one thought drove them now—to force Matthew into giving them an antidote.

"Sogan, you laced Kiss of God with something! Give us the cure right now!"

Matthew let out a tired breath. "There is no cure."

Serpent's thin frame shook with rage. Veins stood out across his neck and arms. His face warped into something monstrous as he raised his gun, ready to end Matthew on the spot. But his men rushed forward, shoving his arm down before he could pull the trigger.

"Captain, don't kill him! If we run out of the drug, what do we do if we don't have our dealer?"

Serpent's hand trembled. Slowly, he lowered the gun.

His expression softened into something disturbingly gentle. "Sogan, are you sure there really is no cure?"