The Great Medical Saint (Matthew) novel Chapter 711

Matthew coldly instructed, "Get your assassins to stand down right now! I'll count to three. If you don't recall them, you're as good as dead."

Merrick was scared out of his wits. "I'm calling them back right away. There's no need for violence. Let's talk this through."

As he spoke, he pulled out his phone and left a voice message in a group chat. "Food's ready. Come on over and dig in. Hurry up, or it'll get cold."

With a grim expression, Matthew asked, "How is this an order?"

The head injury made Merrick wince in pain. Holding his head with one hand, he explained, "That's me telling them to come back right away. We're calling off the job. Is that good enough for you to leave?"

Matthew didn't say a word. With a click, the car door was opened, and a 40-year-old man got in the RV.

Matthew suddenly sprang into action, swinging the stainless steel cup with all his might and smashing it hard against the 40-year-old man's head.

With just one blow, his head bled profusely as he collapsed. His blood stained the mat red.

Merrick was so frightened by the sight that he couldn't stop shaking. When it came to the art of killing, he looked down on Matthew's barbaric approach. It lacked finesse with no strategy involved.

The Misfortune's Veil never used brute force to kill. Every target died in what looked like an accident, and no one ever suspected a thing.

Merrick made his money with his smarts, so going up against Matthew felt like brains against brawns. But despite all the intelligence and plans he had, he was no match for Matthew's sheer strength.

The door opened again, and another man entered the car. "Mr. Densmore."