Chapter 1319: Chapter 880: You're Not Planning to Dump These Idiots on Me, Are You? Chapter 1319: Chapter 880: You're Not Planning to Dump These Idiots on Me, Are You? Anthony casually waved his hand as if unintentionally, his palm brushing the other person's arm. His hand still had traces of the “Holy Light” from when he'd wiped his ass earlier–a rather odorous “Holy Light.”
Turning around at the corner, he saw a small figure hurriedly walking away. Anthony then leisurely followed.
After taking several turns, Anthony arrived at the outskirts of the city in a slum area. The houses here were basically hovels, most with only a roof and no walls, and those with walls were just thin wooden boards–not heat-resistant nor insulating. People here were cooked in the summer and frozen in the winter.
Narrow roads were littered with puddles, and at the bends of streets and alleyways, several kids with big heads and thick necks squatted, their eyes vacant as they idled away, clearly malnourished. When they saw the cleanly dressed Anthony walk by, they looked up hopefully but timidly.
Anthony pretended not to see them and hurried past, leaving the kids with disappointed looks as they lowered their heads back to their idle states.
“Even the natural joy of children has been worn away, probably too hungry to play,” Anthony muttered to himself. “A bit troubling; I'll have to see who governs this place. If it's due to incompetence, it's excusable; but if it's intentional, he's going on the Fire Execution Frame.”
Following the faint scent of the “Holy Light,” Anthony reached a dwelling–barely a house, but at least in this slum, anything with walls and columns could be considered a house.
As he approached, he heard a frustrated voice from inside: “Oh damn, my luck's rotten, picked the pocket of a poor wretch. Such a big money bag and only two copper coins inside. Such a paltry sum, yet carried in a money bag, a true beggar gilding his pennies.”
Another more robust voice responded: “Idiot, can't you spot a beggar? Those who are timid, with shifting eyes, unable to stand straight–those are probably poor. Those who walk relaxed, composed, with straight backs–those are likely rich.”
The frustrated voice retorted: “But the one I picked pocketed walked relaxedly! How was I supposed to know he was so poor?”
“What can you do? Can you find him again? With just two copper coins on him, after you've picked his pocket, could he still afford a meal?” the robust voice complained, though his words seemed incongruous with his tone. Surprisingly worried someone might go hungry and contemplating returning it?
Anthony could not help but feel amused.
“That's impossible to find; I met him on the road; who knows where he went…” the frustrated voice lamented.
“We can find him; I'm right here,” Anthony declared, then lifted the curtain and stepped inside. However, the situation inside made him pause momentarily.
Two frantic individuals–one the thief who had taken his wallet, a woman, and the other a stout Minotaur, also a woman. What stunned Anthony was, he knew both of them.
Anthony recognized them, but they didn't recognize him. Glancing frantically left and right, they seemed poised to flee.
Unfortunately, the Minotaur's hooves were clumsily held together by two wooden boards, helplessly twisted as if broken, rendering escape impossible.
Realizing they couldn't run, the female thief sheepishly attempted to justify herself: “A poor — no no no, friend, I didn't mean to; I just accidentally hooked your money bag as I passed by. I realized it when I got home and was just about to return it to you.”
Such a lame excuse, and Anthony seemed to have an epiphany, “So it was just accidentally hooked? I thought it was stolen. So it was really just hooked?”
“Yes yes yes, it was hooked, truly an accident, not intentional. Here, I'm returning it to you.” The female thief quickly stuffed the money bag into Anthony's hand.
Anthony, smiling, responded: “Lucky it's returned; this money is for buying medicine. Do you know where I can find a potion that can solidify body parts temporarily?”
The female thief furrowed her eyebrows, “Cause limbs to turn to stone? Why does this potion sound so familiar? What is it used for? It seems a bit indecent, I don't know where to buy it.”
“Oh, that's too bad, what are your names?” asked Anthony, smiling.
“My name's Sava, and she's Vania. And you?” the female thief asked.
“Just call me Anthony.”
Both the female thief and the Minotaur couldn't help but frown and whisper to each other, “Why does this name sound so familiar? Have we heard it somewhere?”
“No, doesn't sound like a good person. Be careful.”
While they whispered privately, Anthony surveyed the surroundings — a small shack, a corner with what might be considered a bed, and besides that, only a chair, which Vania was sitting on. That was it.
“Your living conditions here are pretty tough, Vania, what happened to your leg?” asked Anthony.
Vania didn't talk about her leg, but immediately covered her pocket and said, “I don't have any money.”
Anthony couldn't help but laugh and cry, but he still went along with her, “Then what do you have?”
Vania thought for a moment, pinching her belly as she said, “Butter…” but she stopped abruptly and let go, embarrassed because she realized there was no more fat on her stomach, just skin.
Sava asked cautiously, “What do you want to do? Just to let you know, we don't have any money, and I really didn't mean to steal from you. You're not a bounty hunter, are you?”
Upon hearing about bounty hunters, Vania defensively picked up a wooden post as thick as an ordinary person's waist from under the chair.
Smiling, Anthony replied, “I'm a healer. Seeing an injured person, I instinctively want to offer treatment. Sadly, you guys don't have any money. I can tell from experience that this kind of injury will cause permanent disability if untreated.”
“Ah? Will it cause disability?” As soon as they heard about becoming disabled, both Sava and Vania panicked.
“Yes, your bones aren't set right; they're crooked. And once they heal, they'll stay crooked. With Vania's weight, putting pressure on a crooked leg can easily lead to re-fracturing. Then you'll indeed become disabled. The remaining leg won't bear your weight and might also break, leaving you to crawl on the ground… and this floor is so dirty. Crawling here wouldn't be good, right?” Anthony analyzed seriously, but his words were quite frightening.
Both of them turned pale, “Then… what should we do? Can you treat us? How much would it cost? I'll go… go and find, go and find.”
“When will you find enough?” Anthony looked troubled, thought for a moment, and then reluctantly said, “How about this, work for me for three months in exchange for the treatment?”
Sava hesitantly covered her chest and asked, “Do we need to sleep with you?” Vania also hurriedly covered her chest.
Anthony's cheeks twitched unusually, barely holding back a smile, “No need.”
Sana stepped aside, quietly muttering, “It wouldn't be the worst thing. So, what will you hire us to do?”
Anthony prayed silently in his heart: Lord, help me, you aren't planning on saddling me with these fools, are you?
Chapter end
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