Man With Super Medical Skill (Matthew)

"Matthew, the Montirian Ducat is indeed starting to devalue rapidly, and the price of Dornian Emeralds is skyrocketing," Mortimer hurried into the room, finding Matthew buried under a pile of documents.

details now settled, they could finally step back from the minutiae.

"Old Mr. Zedler, how's the gathering of wealthy merchants coming along?" Matthew asked as he rose from his chair, stretching his tired limbs. He and Stellan had been pulling all-nighters recently, finalizing the development direction for the Martial League. With the major "I've gathered over twenty wealthy merchants, each holding more than a billion Dornian Emeralds. I also had their backgrounds checked; their families have been clean for three generations, known for their integrity and philanthropy."

"Good. Old Mr. Zedler, have them gather at the Martial League headquarters," Matthew instructed, draping a linen overcoat over his shoulders before swiftly leading Mortimer to the first-floor reception room.

In just a few minutes, an elderly man dressed in a dapper suit walked in.

"This is Mr. Emory Jardine, the esteemed patriarch of the Jardine Family from Southaven," Mortimer introduced.This belongs © NôvelDra/ma.Org.

"You look to be in excellent health, Old Mr. Jardine-like someone who will see seven generations of descendants," Matthew remarked.

"Hahaha, you flatter me, Summit Warden. I'd be content just to live to 99," Emory replied, his face beaming with joy. Having a Summit Warden-a doctor of legendary status-praise his health was no small thing. It reassured Emory that his old bones might indeed have a few more decades left in them.

Emory hadn't come for wealth or fame but simply to support Mortimer's cause. Still, everyone enjoys a compliment, especially from someone of Matthew's stature.

"I rushed over with all the Dornian Emeralds I had as soon as I got your call, Mortimer," Emory said with a grin. "But when this is over, if you don't break out that fine wine you've been hoarding, I'll raise a fuss like you've never seen," Emory teased as Ke and Mortimer settled in for a chat.

Although the Jardine Family was only a mid-tier clan in Southaven, Emory was known for his generosity and kindness. Every year, he

donated large sums of money net

help impoverished children, many of whom later joined Jardine Corp., contributing to the family's gradual rise.

Mortimer himself was a man of great generosity and had met Emory by chance. The two elders had become fast friends—and occasional rivals.

"You old rascal, you think you can drink my precious wine? Careful, or I'll be attending your funeral right after," Mortimer teased.

As the two bantered, another voice chimed in from outside the door.

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"Precious wine? I wouldn't mind trying some myself," said a middle-aged man in casual attire he entered, clearly well-off, with slightly balding head, a protruding belly and a perpetually smiling face.

"Maurice, you're actually early this time!" Mortimer and Emory exchanged surprised glances. Maurice Lorenz had a reputation for being the last to arrive at any gathering.

Maurice smiled broadly and gave a slight bow to Matthew before explaining, "I heard Mr. Larson would be here today, so I couldn't afford to be late."

"You rascal, were you late before because my belt wasn't doing its job?" Emory feigned anger, reaching for his belt as if to strike, causing Maurice to jump back in alarm. "Mr. Jardine, please, Mr. Larson is watching-show me some mercy."