Chapter 58 Multiple Choice Questions

The equipment you wanted... I brought it over for you...

As a doctor, he had certainly received an education and read books, but every single word Milton said made sense to him, yet he couldn't grasp the meaning when strung together.

How much time had passed? Could these people have actually just held up a hospital?!

Behind Milton, several people clumsily unloaded the portable X-ray machine from the truck.

"There are still radioactive element consumables left; it can be used immediately." Milton stepped back slightly. "Do you know how to use it?"

"Strictly speaking, no, but this kind of thing isn't hard to learn." The doctor caught his breath, not bothering to ask how these blood-stained, murderous-looking men had managed to acquire such equipment. "I'll figure it out as soon as I look at it."

Milton glanced at the assistant still busy in the operating room and the shattered bullet fragments removed into a metal tray. "How confident are you in completing the surgery now?"

"One hundred percent," the doctor replied without hesitation. "By the way, can I keep this machine? I won't charge you for the surgery, and I can perform surgeries for you for free in the future."

Milton chuckled. "Surgery fees could never buy this machine."

Channels are always the most expensive part!

The doctor paused for a moment, then wore an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I'm not very familiar with market prices."

With that, he walked over to the clinic's makeshift fire-safety corner, moved the fire extinguisher and water hose aside, dragged out a safe from behind them, and began pulling things out from inside.

US dollars, pesos, quetzales... even some gold jewelry, a messy pile of odds and ends.

"I need to keep some money to run the clinic," the doctor said sincerely. "The rest is right here. No matter what, it should be enough. Will you sell it? I still won't charge you for the surgery."

He didn't resort to moral blackmail like "this machine can save many lives"—he simply offered everything he had.

No matter how much or how little that money was, this all-in sincerity moved Milton just a bit.

"Perhaps we have another form of transaction." Milton didn't look at the wealth. "Join my crew. You'll get security, free use of this machine, and free use of many medical instruments and drugs—you will only need to focus on healing the sick, and the crew will solve all the rest. How about it?"

The doctor glanced at the machine beside him, then at the supplies being hurriedly hauled outside, a trace of hesitation flickering in his eyes.

Soon, however, he shook his head with a wry smile and refused. "Forget it... If I join you, many people might not dare to come to me for treatment anymore. I very much hope to maintain our friendship, but I really can't join you."

Milton didn't push him, reaching out to take the doctor's money. "Then let's proceed with the first transaction. As for 'security,' as long as you pay your taxes on time, I will guarantee your safety."

The doctor looked troubled. "Uh, but many of my supplies are smuggled..."

Even the radioactive consumables for the X-ray machine right beside him were undoubtedly impossible for this back-alley clinic to acquire through regular channels.

"I don't care whether the goods are legal or not, as long as the taxes are paid." Milton glanced toward the operating room. "All right, go perform your surgery; don't waste time."

"As expected of the Hell Taxman."

The doctor, having obtained the new equipment, was in high spirits. He carefully wiped and disinfected the machine like a cherished toy, then made a joke, "I thought you would have urged me to do this much earlier."

A group of shady individuals had once come to him for surgery, and making even a passing joke would get a gun pointed at your head.

"Instead of seeing a doctor with a grave expression, I prefer seeing a relaxed one," Milton said. "At the very least, it means the surgery hasn't failed."

The doctor nodded approvingly. "The patient will definitely survive intact, but whether there will be any sequelae comes down to God's will... Well, judging from the current situation, after a month of postoperative care, he should be able to move around just like before, and there shouldn't be any major sequelae."

"Come back tomorrow afternoon. I'll run a few more checks then, and if everything is fine, he can be discharged."

...

Milton left the back-alley clinic, where Flora and the others were still waiting outside on standby.

"Boss, the cargo is unloaded. What do you plan to do with the truck?"

Milton checked the time and said, "Find somewhere close to Fanco Gang's territory, drive it over, and burn it."

Since they were already taking the blame, they might as well take the fall hard.

"Got it, we're on it."

Watching Flora and the others leave, Milton turned to look at a worried-looking Luz.

"Luz, is something the matter?"

"Uh, Boss... Is Brandon going to be okay?"

"He's practically fine." Milton patted him on the shoulder. "By the way, help me find Olya tomorrow—the Russian reporter. I need to talk to her about a collaboration."

"She's right around here," Luz said, pausing. "Olya tried to come take photos earlier, but we stopped her. She should be hanging out near our pharmacy right now."

"She really is a fearless Nikon shooter." Milton nodded. "Good timing then, bring her into the pharmacy. I have something to discuss with her."

...

Three minutes later, the blonde beauty Olya, carrying a Nikon camera, walked panting into the pharmacy's dining area.

Olya was clearly excited. "Mr. Milton, you were looking for me?"

"A woman wandering around a place like this in the middle of the night without getting killed is quite impressive." Milton appraised the woman, who possessed a fine figure and a pretty face, and nodded. "First, tell me what you were hoping to find by snooping around here."

Olya didn't try to hide it. "That shootout at the police station this afternoon has nearly shocked half the province by now. How could I miss a story like that? Coincidentally, your people were involved, so I wanted to come interview you—for instance, about the current condition of the officers involved."

"Um... could you provide me with some exclusive news? Or is there anything you need my help with?"

Milton tapped the table. "Forget about the police station shootout. Something much more important happened tonight."

Olya remembered the rumbling sounds that had come from the direction of the checkpoint not long ago, and her spirits instantly spiked, her chest naturally puffing out a little. "What happened, please?"

Milton gazed into Olya's blue eyes and said word by word, "Just a moment ago, the Fanco Gang orchestrated an armed assault on the checkpoint, sacrificing many inspectors and looting a batch of vital supplies."

The Fanco Gang launched an armed assault on the checkpoint and looted a batch of vital supplies...

And they sacrificed many inspectors!

Olya fell into a brief daze, then focused her gaze on the bloodstains on Milton's clothes. After careful consideration, she spoke: "I'd like to venture a bold question... did the Fanco Gang really attack the checkpoint?"

"Either the photos are yours, and you write this report," Milton replied calmly, "or tomorrow you'll see someone else's identical report in the papers. Make your choice."