The Great Medical Saint (Matthew) novel Chapter 199

Shepherd Town was a small town at the foot of Mt. Dranine. A truck filled with asphode grass was parked at the entrance of the town.

The boxes of asphode grass were placed on ice and packed into crates. Then, the crates were transferred into the truck.

Caron Jones pulled out his phone. "Mr. Durbin, we've packed all the herbs. They can be taken to the port now."

Ethan was pleased when he saw the loaded truck through the surveillance camera. "Remember to seal them properly. No one is allowed to open the crates throughout the journey. Once you transfer all the asphode grass back to Eastoria, you'll get 100 thousand dollars for your efforts!"

Caron was delighted to hear that. "Thank you, Mr. Durbin. In the past, you offered me a chance to study abroad without charging anything. It's been the biggest honor of my life to have met you. I swear I won't let you down."

Caron hung up. He looked at the people bustling around in town and couldn't help feeling like he was superior to them. Nearby, there was a small shop selling beef casserole. Suddenly, he found himself craving some.

Beef tartare, tuna tartare, and honeycomb tripe were delicious if one had them occasionally. But if they were part of a regular diet, it honestly wasn't that friendly on the stomach. A hot beef casserole was more appetizing.

Caron told the driver to stop so he could have some.

Just then, a motorized tricycle passed by. Harold pointed at the truck loaded with asphode grass and cried, "That's the one! All the asphode grass is in there!"

Matthew turned the tricycle around and parked it beside the truck. Harold hopped off and ran to the driver. "You guys bought asphode grass from me earlier, sir. Could I have three stalks, please?"

Caron returned after finishing his casserole. When he saw this scene, he said icily, "What do you mean we bought asphode grass from you? All of this is mine now, and I can't give you a single stalk!"

Harold's blood boiled. He'd planted the asphode grass, and he was still owed money. It was bad enough that Caron was unwilling to give him three stalks. How dare the latter insult him?

He clenched his fists, wanting nothing more than to get in a fight. But the thought of Mason's suffering made him suppress the urge.

He said, "Judging from your accent, it sounds like we're from the same town. Could you please do me a favor and give me three stalks so I can save my son?"

Caron snorted. "Fuck off! Who are you to say I'm from your hometown? Do you think I'm a cheap, lowly farmer? I've long since migrated, you piece of shit. I'm an Eastorian now, you hear me?"

That only made Harold angrier. "So what if you're Eastorian? Why can't I use the asphode grass that I planted? Look—I'll pay you for it. I'll pay you a hundred bucks for each stalk! How's that?"