Mystery: The Last Shepherd

Chapter 298 Initial Digestion
In a house in the East District, an area effectively controlled by the Lehman Brothers.

"despair."

Oliver placed the bowl on the table; he had already finished the oatmeal porridge inside.

"If that's not enough, we can add a little more."

The old woman in charge of the meals smiled gently and said to him.

"I'm stuffed."

Oliver lowered his head and answered quietly.

He had not forgotten his days at the orphanage, where if anyone dared to ask for more porridge, the supervisor would yell and curse them as "greedy pigs" and "despicable robbers," and they would be locked in a dark room to reflect on their actions.

Oliver was worried that asking for an extra serving would leave a bad impression on the seemingly kind lady. He was now under the command of that "missionary," and he didn't yet know the other's temperament and character, so he could only try to behave well and make sure no one disliked him.

That's right, Oliver has been bought.

In fact, this wasn't the first time he had been sold.

The children in the orphanage were a considerable asset. They were like livestock in a pen, and every now and then, different people would come to inspect them and buy some. The cutest boys and girls were the easiest to take; those who were nimble-fingered would be bought by gangsters and trained to be thieves; even the least desirable ones were welcomed by coal mines and cleaning companies.

Of course, procedurally speaking, they were all adopted in accordance with regulations.

For this reason, the director of the orphanage often praised himself as a "kind-hearted person" who gave these "forsaken by God" orphans a way to survive.

Oliver was fairly good-looking, but because he argued with his supervisor, he was specifically assigned to a cleaning company. His short stature was perfect for cleaning chimneys, and he had to work more than ten hours a day in the narrow, dark chimneys.

He was so tired that he didn't tie the rope properly when he went down, and he accidentally fell and broke his arm. He thought he would be abandoned and die on the streets, but to his surprise, the foreman sent him to see a gentleman with magical powers. After this noble gentleman healed his arm, he actually bought him.
"Cough cough."

Just then, a burning and tingling sensation came from his lungs, causing Oliver to cough involuntarily.

"Are you ok?"

The old woman looked worried.

"I'm fine! Cough cough."

Oliver quickly said, suppressing his cough and trying to straighten his body, "Please don't worry, cough cough."

The coal ash from the chimney completely damaged his lungs, causing him to cough frequently, breathe rapidly, and greatly reduce his ability to work. The cleaning company foreman called him a piece of trash. He was afraid that he would also be considered useless here, so even though he was in great pain, he forced himself to endure it.

"."

The old woman seemed to want to say something, but after opening her mouth, she remained silent.

What kind of emotion is in her eyes: pity, sympathy?
Oliver was somewhat bewildered.

He had never seen a similar expression on the faces of the adults around him; when they faced him, they usually only showed indifference and disgust.

"Mother."

Just then, a young man pushed a cart into the kitchen. The cart was piled high with freshly baked bread. "This is today's portion. I brought it all to you. How are you today? Is working in the kitchen tiring?"

He seemed very energetic, chatting with his elderly mother as he unloaded the bread.

mom
Oliver listened to the unfamiliar words and watched the interaction between the young man and the old woman. The orphanage director told him that his mother died after giving birth to him, and as for his father, nothing was known.

"Good boy, go next door after you finish eating."

After exchanging a few words with her son, the old woman turned to him, her smile still gentle, "The missionary is waiting for you."

"Oh"

Oliver stood up uneasily and slowly walked outside.

The kind man saved him in an incredible way, but he still felt inexplicably afraid.
The room next door was dimly lit. Oliver walked in, and after his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw the gentleman sitting quietly in the chair.

He appeared to be resting with his eyes closed.

"gentlemen."

Oliver greeted him quietly. "You're here?"

The other person woke up, and the blue light in their eyes flickered in the darkness.

"Drink it."

The blue-eyed man handed a small bottle to Oliver.

".OK."

Oliver had no choice but to take it and drink it.

The liquid in the bottle was a little numbing and bitter, but after swallowing it, my body gradually felt warm and light, as if I were enveloped by clouds in the sky.

"Sir, what is this?"

He felt so relaxed that he asked vaguely.

"It's something that will give you a good dream."

Lu Ze replied softly, "You won't cough anymore after you wake up."

Is there really such a good thing?

Oliver didn't know, but more than wanting to stop coughing, he hoped to see his mother and be given a gentle hug by her.

He quickly fell asleep.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Lu Ze underwent a minor surgery.

The lungs are delicate and crucial organs. If they are eroded by impurities, it will gradually cause pain, leading to despair and eventual suffocation. With the current medical technology in Backlund, it is essentially impossible to save a person.

But Luzer was an extraordinary being, the Rose Bishop renowned for his flesh magic. All he needed to do was anesthetize the patient, sustain his life, and "cleanse" his lungs.

The Rose Bishop's abilities could truly heal many people, but the cultists only used them to create flesh-and-blood bombs.

We should all thank that damned evil god at the top for his protection.

Lu Ze silently praised the true Creator, ended the treatment, let the patient continue to sleep, and then walked out of the room and out of the house.

"Your Excellency Missionary!"

People on the street were busy, but when they saw him come out, they stopped what they were doing, smiled and greeted him.

"Ah."

Lu Ze smiled, feeling the "Shepherd" potion within his body gradually being digested.

These lambs, having been "fed" by him, are slowly acknowledging him as the leader of the flock.

But that's not enough.

The slow progress of digestion indicates two things: first, the herd is not large enough; second, his role cannot stop at the most basic task of maintaining the herd, he needs to explore the essence corresponding to the name of the potion more deeply.

For shepherds, besides feeding their flocks, are there any other important tasks?
Luze recalled the experience of that professional shepherd.

Protect the flock and guide the lambs?

Protection is simple, but as for guidance, that might be related to missionary work.

It's about time we started formally proselytizing.

Lu Ze thought to himself, then looked up at the crowd.

"Everyone can gather now."

He said.

(End of this chapter)