Man With Super Medical Skill novel Chapter 3444

The crowd fell silent, unsure how to respond to his words. It was true: even if he hadn't killed Deadeye, they would have let him walk out alive, either.

From a distance, Mack saw Deadeye's body freeze, then fall to the ground with a dull thud. Mack tossed his poleaxe to the side and quickly moved to Deadeye's side. With a swift tug, he ripped open Deadeye's shirt, his eyes scanning until he found what he was looking for: the Gorgon Brand.

"Chief, we've just about wrapped up here," a young member of the Veiled Assembly reported softly, approaching Mack.

"Good. Do whatever you need with this guy." Mack took a deep breath, no longer looking at Deadeye's lifeless body. He trusted his crew to handle it, knowing they shared his hatred for the Medusa Gang.

Then, he moved to the remaining Devil Guild members, who crouched on the ground with their hands clasped over their heads.

"What's your take, Matteo?" Mack asked, turning to Matthew, who had just walked up beside him.

"We're short on muscle down at the docks—let's use them," Matthew replied smoothly.

Mack blinked, surprised. "You want to put them to work as dock hands? Wouldn't that put our guys out of a job?"

Matthew chuckled before responding. "Mr. Mack, since when does any guild have its own members do grunt work? That's for the outside hires. Besides, I've got other plans for our brothers."

Mack nodded obediently, realizing his strengths. He wasn't as sharp as Matteo or half as good with numbers as Tertius. His value lay in his tough image and his solid build. Nothing wrong with some tea-drinking and dock work—he'd leave the big plans to Matteo.

"Starting today, you're all our dockhands. Two hundred Dornia Emeralds a month, food and lodging included, and you'll be working twelve-hour shifts, six days a week," Matthew announced, addressing the huddled group.

To Matthew, even those two hundred Emeralds were a generous gesture for these thugs. Otherwise, he'd have thrown them into a round-the-clock schedule with no rest and seven-day weeks.

"What did you say?" One man in the crowd shot to his feet, clearly offended. "We're core members of the Devil Guild, and you want us to be grunt workers?"

He'd seen the dock hands at the western dock lugging those never-ending crates, some barely catching a few hours of sleep each day.

Matthew scanned the group, then spoke with a mild tone, "Anyone else feels the same way? Speak up, and we can work something out."

His tone was so gentle that it seemed as if standing up meant they'd be exempt from labor. For a moment, the group hesitated, tempted. Maybe standing up was the ticket out of grunt work? But only the most cunning had survived this long.

Ultimately, no one else stood up, leaving the man as the lone protester. His gaze was filled with pride and disdain as he looked around. What a pathetic bunch, he thought. Not one of you has the guts to say no. No wonder you're all stuck here doing grunt work.