Wayne was taken aback, not expecting that even his Minstrel Performance skill had improved. It seemed that because he had successfully played the role of a charlatan this time, he had gained the trust of the two men before him.
Last time, Paul hadn't fully believed him.
Old Billy, trembling, pulled a roll of money from his pocket and carefully placed it into the pile of bones in front of Wayne with both hands, saying:
"Mage, thank you for your blessing. It's truly fortunate to encounter a genuine Voodoo Spirit Medium Mage here. I have some friends who are also plagued by evil spirits and need your blessing. Could you…"
Wayne nodded calmly and said:
"Poor children. Since you've left your homeland and come to this land, I should take care of you on behalf of Bondye."
Old Billy was overjoyed and immediately knelt on one knee, touching the ground with his right hand before lightly tapping his chest twice, his eyes welling up with tears.
The way he looked at Wayne was like a wanderer far from home seeing an elder from their hometown.
"Go now," Wayne said indifferently.
Old Billy and Paul thanked him again and left the tent.
Just then, a commotion erupted from outside the tent:
"Why is this only worth two hundred dollars? He took at least five types of Enhancement Drugs! It should be worth five hundred dollars! Don't even think about taking him for less than five hundred!"
It was David's voice.
Frowning, Wayne lifted the tent flap and stepped outside. He saw David holding the body of the addict who had just died, arguing with a man wearing simple protective clothing. A familiar-looking van was parked nearby.
"He took at least five types of Enhancement Drugs! I've seen the GGs from your Biotech Companies and labs—the more Enhancement Drugs someone takes, the more bizarre their death, and the higher the price. Don't try to fool me!"
David spoke excitedly.
"Relax, relax, buddy. This person has an identity—he's not undocumented. We have to contact his family before we can sell his body. The two hundred dollars is just a finder's fee for you. Otherwise, we can't give you a single cent… It's the damn American law, and I can't do anything about it."
The man in simple protective clothing spoke, his accent clearly Eastern.
Wayne found the voice familiar. Walking closer, he realized the Corpse Collector was actually an acquaintance—the Eastern Corpse Collector he had met on the first night after his transmigration.
The young man who had given him cephalosporin and a hamburger.
Wayne immediately said:
"David, brother, two hundred is fine. Don't make things difficult for this brother."
Hearing Wayne's words, the Corpse Collector turned around. Seeing Wayne wrapped in a blanket, he was momentarily stunned and said:
"Thanks for understanding. It's policy—we're just following the rules. If you have unidentified bodies, they can actually sell for more."
Wayne smiled slightly and said:
"You're welcome. I should be thanking you, brother. Thank you for the hamburger and medicine."
The young man was stunned again, then suddenly remembered something and exclaimed in surprise:
"It's you!? You're the one who ate the seagull that night…"
The shock in the young Corpse Collector's heart was overwhelming.
That night, witnessing the other person covered in blood while devouring a seagull in the tent had left a profound impact on him, and the memory still felt as vivid as if it had just happened.
In just two days, the man's condition had clearly improved significantly. At the very least, he no longer looked like he might cough up blood and die at any moment. He was now living in a brand-new tent and had subtly become the leader of the two homeless Black men present.
Compared to his previous state, it was a world of difference.
Wayne nodded, revealing a gentle smile as he said:
"Right, it's me. David, give the item to this brother."
David now understood that Wayne and the man were likely old acquaintances. He responded with an "Oh," then moved the corpse onto the other man's truck.
The young Corpse Collector extended his fist toward Wayne and said:
"Thanks, brother. You can call me Alex. Do you operate around these streets? Speaking of which, I have a job. The Biological Laboratory is currently looking for... um... infant corpses. If you come across any, you can contact me. They fetch a high price."
For some reason, perhaps due to the impression the man had left on him, he felt an inexplicable sense of trust toward the man before him.
[Side Quest: Acquisition Commission from the Dark Court Vampire Nursery]
[You have received an acquisition commission from the Dark Court Vampire Nursery. Will you accept?]
Wayne extended his fist and bumped it with the other man's, saying:
"Alright, if we come across any, we'll definitely give you a call. Also, if you have any other needs, feel free to let me know."
The man nodded, seemingly satisfied with having Wayne as a street contact. He then pulled out ten twenty-dollar bills and handed them to Wayne before hauling the corpse away.
After the Corpse Collector left, Wayne and the other two returned to their tent.
Wayne took the money left by Paul and Old Billy from the clay jar containing the Bone Pile Artifact and carefully counted it. It totaled $500—Old Billy had given an extra $100. Combined with the $200 he had just received, that made $700 in total.
Looking at the stack of cash, David couldn't help but say excitedly:
"$700 in just one night! Being a doctor really is the most profitable job!"
Mike, standing nearby, calmly remarked:
"It's still not enough. We're far from the $20,000 we need. We should step up our promotion efforts these next few days. It's a shame the people we know are all from the bottom..."
They all understood that those with real money and social standing—even "American citizens" living in the most ordinary neighborhoods—would never seek out a homeless man in a street tent for exorcism.
The only ones who would come to them were fellow street people and undocumented immigrants.
All of them were just as poor as they were.
Wayne reassured them:
"It's fine, bro. This is a good start. Remember what that Corpse Collector said? Maybe we can find some rare corpses and earn another payout."
After chatting a bit more, Wayne returned to the tent, lay down on the blanket, and fell into a deep sleep.
[Spirit Power: 0.2/0.6]
The biggest drain from using his skill to treat people was Spirit Power. After treating two people in a row, his Spirit Power had dropped to 0.2 points, and he urgently needed sleep to recover.
Fortunately, most of the time, when dealing with ordinary ailments, there was no need to activate the skill. He could simply pour medicine down their throats.
He slept until he woke naturally. When Wayne opened his eyes, daylight was already filtering through the tent. He patted Little Wick's head beside him and checked the Panel:
Class: Adventurer (Level 1, Career Path not chosen)
Title: Court Rebel (Higher chance of gaining favor from Dungeon Streets); Voodoo Medium (20% chance of special effectiveness against Voodoo Cult Believers)
Stamina: 1.0/1.3
Intelligence: 1.2/1.3
Spirit Power: 0.6/0.6
Health Points: 30/60
Experience Points: 76/100
Skills: Minstrel Performance (Beginner 40%); Stranger in a Strange Land (Passive 50%); Tactical Dagger Usage (Specialization); Compound Creation (Beginner 70%); General Medicine (Advanced 70%)
Battle Pet: Wild Hound (Level 1, 40%)
Status: Severe Illness Recovery
After a night's sleep, his Spirit Power had recovered to 0.6/0.6, and his Health Points had returned to 30/60. His overall condition was much better.
He pushed off the blanket covering him, yawned, and then lifted the tent flap, only to be startled.
Outside his tent, a long line had formed, at least a dozen people, all looking at his tent with eager anticipation.
At the head of the line was none other than Old Billy, the man he had just treated last night!
Seeing Wayne poke his head out, Old Billy immediately cheered and said:
"The Spirit Medium Master is awake! He's awake!"
The line behind him stirred with excitement.
Then, Old Billy pulled a woman holding a child into Wayne's tent and said:
"Master, this is my daughter and my grandson, Little Billy. He's been retching constantly lately. It must be Evil Spirit Possession. Please perform an Exorcism for him."
Just as the chubby child was pushed forward, Wayne suddenly caught a whiff of a foul odor.
It was different from the sour stench of unwashed vagrants or the smell of corpses. The odor emanating from the little fatty before him was one of rot.
Wayne immediately looked at the child's feet.
The child's right foot seemed hesitant to bear weight, and there was a stain seeping through his shoe.
This was a Little Sugar Man.