Man With Super Medical Skill (Matthew) novel Chapter 3703

Matthew noticed the way Ryan's eyes shimmered with the weight of old memories, and he chose not to press the matter any further.

For now, he decided Ronny would live.

He could follow Ryan's advice and first hear from others before deciding if the man was truly as good-hearted as Ryan claimed.

"Alright, I'll take your word for it. But come on, what's with the tears?

"You're a grown man," Matthew said, handing him a napkin.

When Matthew told him that, Ryan's sorrow broke into an almost boyish smile.

"I'm going to wash my face," Ryan said before walking away from the table.

Matthew watched him go, a faint, resigned smile touching his lips, and then he turned to wake Ariya.

"Dad, why did I fall asleep?" she asked, rubbing her eyes in a slow, drowsy motion.

"Because you wore yourself out eating," Matthew answered without pause.

It was the kind of answer only he would give.

At that moment, a group of men stepped into the pub, scanning for a place to sit.

Their eyes landed on Matthew, dressed in crisp white and seated at the window, looking nothing like a local.

A smirk passed between them as they drifted toward his table.

"Boss, this spot's perfect. Great view too," one of them said.

"Yeah, not bad.

"But someone's already sitting here," the leader replied.

"That's easy. We just make him leave."

The words were loud enough to leave no doubt they were meant for Matthew.

"Hey, are you deaf? Didn't you hear our boss wants this table? Get up!" one of them barked.

"Why should I?" Matthew said in a steady voice without even glancing at them.

The leader saw that Matthew didn't rise, didn't even flinch, his voice holding quiet defiance.

He dropped himself into Ryan's empty chair and studied him.

An outsider who could afford a meal in a fancy place like this must be loaded.

The leader's pride snapped.

He sprang to his feet. "I'll make you listen!" He gripped the table's edge, ready to flip the entire meal to the floor.

Matthew's hand shot forward, clamping down on the man's wrist with the solid base of his palm.

The man strained with all his strength, but Matthew's grip held him like steel.

One of his companions lunged, but then the room was pierced by the brittle snap of bone.

The leader's cry tore through the tavern as his arm dangled uselessly, held together only by skin.

That was the only thing keeping the thug's arm from the pull of gravity.

Matthew let go and returned to his meal as if nothing more than a bothersome fly had been dealt with.

The man's face drained of color, then flushed with pain, and his arm hung lifeless.

The rest of the group stood frozen, fear blanching their faces, and none dared make another move toward Matthew.