Man With Super Medical Skill (Matthew) novel Chapter 3332

Late into the night, the construction crew at Sunny Haven was sound asleep, resting on makeshift beds they'd set up in a big room.

In the darkness, faint footsteps echoed through the quiet hallways. Several figures dressed in black stealth suits crept, using hand signals to communicate under the faint moonlight.

"Should we go ahead, Boss?" one of them gestured, mimicking a throat-slashing motion as he glanced toward their leader.

The leader quickly signed back, making it clear—no killing, just sabotage. Yet, the subordinate misread the signal in the dim light, thinking it meant to kill first and destroy later.

His expression hardened, and he quietly drew a blade from his belt. The leader's eyes went wide with alarm, and he darted forward to grab the subordinate's arm before he could act.

"You moron, I said no killing!" the leader growled in a low voice, smacking him upside the head.

The subordinate looked irritated under his mask. It's too dark to see properly, he thought, feeling wronged.

At the entrance to the sleeping quarters, the leader pulled a thin cord from his hair and crouched down to pick the lock. He frowned in frustration as the door didn't budge.

Still fumbling with the cord, another subordinate leaned in and whispered, "Uh, Boss... what if the door isn't locked? Maybe we just need to, you know, open it?"

Then, the subordinate grabbed the knob and pushed it down. With a soft creak, the door opened.

The leader quickly shoved the cord back into his hair, refusing to acknowledge the subordinate's smug grin. He fumed inwardly, I'm sending these idiots in first if there's trouble next time.

Before they could react, the Martial League members rushed at them like a pack of wolves, wrapping them up in nylon ropes in no time.

Errol's round face was flushed with rage as he watched the scene unfold. I knew it. These idiots just can't stay out of trouble.

The Martial League members roughly forced the intruders' mouths open and yanked out their inmost teeth. Blood dripped as the guys winced, their teeth pulled out with bits of flesh still attached.

Yet after checking the teeth, the Martial League members exchanged confused glances. One looked at Errol and reported, "Mr. Hervey, no sign of any poison in their teeth."

The six intruders, now tied up on the floor, had helpless expressions on their faces. They weren't elite assassins—just low-level thugs, more used to roughing up regular folks than dealing with real threats.