The Great Medical Saint (Matthew) novel Chapter 643

"You think I'll let you off just because you're a wuss?"

Dalton's eyes were wild, his expression panicked. A dozen or so beefy men were scattered on the ground, unmoving. It was hard to tell whether they were dead or alive.

His only thought was to pray that Matthew didn't do anything to him.

"I-I-I'll take you to see Mr. Stone. Only by seeing him will you be able to really deal with the problem at its source."

Matthew fell silent. He couldn't deny that Dalton had a point. One could only truly solve a problem by seeking out its root cause.

He glanced back at Kingston. "Will you be coming to see Mr. Stone?"

Kingston had long since felt frightened by Matthew's methods, but in truth, every time he met people who came asking for the Plague Compendium, he would force himself to put on a strong front. Even when he was sometimes beaten up, he would simply grit his teeth and stay silent.

However, every beating he endured only heightened his fear. That kind of suffering was simply too hard to bear, and now he knew that Julian even harbored murderous intentions.

If seeing the man could solve the problem, then it was undoubtedly the best option.

"Do you have an idea to persuade Mr. Stone?" he asked.

Matthew thought about it for a while and replied, "If he's not afraid of death, then I'm out of ideas."

Dalton shivered upon hearing this. Matthew actually planned to kill Julian… This man was way too vicious.

Kingston, on the other hand, felt as if he was going to pop a vein. What kind of idea was that?

But when he thought about it more, it was indeed a good idea. Everyone was afraid of death. Dalton was the best example of that.

As a doctor, he could tell at a glance that the dozen or so men on the ground were simply unconscious. Their chests rose and fell minutely, which was the best form of proof that they weren't dead.

However, Matthew's chosen method had scared Dalton witless.

"Alright. I'll go with you," he said. Matthew tossed aside the broken chair leg he still held, dusting his hands off.

"Dalt!" he called.

"Aye, sir!"

Gone was the swagger that Dalton had when he first arrived. He acted like a fawning maiden and even simpered when he spoke. He somehow managed to make his hoarse voice sound much gentler.

"I'll drive you two over to see Mr. Stone," he said, making his way toward the yard entrance.