I'm building Gundams in America

Chapter 377 The Ceremony of Combat (Seeking Monthly Tickets)

Wayne smiled slightly and said, "Mr. Vito, may the ravens and coyotes protect you."

Upon hearing this, Vito, who had just regained his sight, trembled violently as if struck by lightning. Tears welled up in his eyes instantly, and he covered his face, saying in a trembling voice, "You know my name? My God, you must be a high priest of spirit dance, a powerful spiritual healer! Only a shaman of this caliber could unleash the miracle that has occurred to me—"

Wayne said gently, "Vitor, don't cry. A blessing is like cataract surgery. You need to protect your eyes for the first few days after the blessing."

Vito nodded emphatically, his heart overflowing with emotion.

He knew, of course, that his eye condition was actually cataracts.

However, the medical conditions on the Indian reservation were simply insufficient to perform cataract surgery.

However, if he were to queue up at public hospitals in major cities like Seattle, his health insurance wouldn't cover it at all.

As for the exorbitant prices of private hospitals, they were simply beyond his means.

He could only drown his sorrows in alcohol, day after day.

However, alcohol led to even more serious symptoms, trapping the person in a vicious cycle.

Therefore, Vito knew perfectly well what everything that had happened to him meant.

This is a miracle that cannot be measured in money.

Old Vito looked up, tears streaming down his face, clutching his heart, and said, "Oh, sir, I don't know how to thank you. I thought it was all a scam, and I just wanted someone to talk to. No one else would listen to an old blind man—"

"As you know, when I was young, I was a member of the Reserve Bloods. When members of the Bloods received a favor, we were willing to give our lives—"

Loyalty: A life-saving favor

Looking at the loyalty indicator that appeared on the other person's forehead, Wayne said gently, "None of that is needed, Vitor. All I need is for you to rest well and live a good life."

Compared to the people in the city of Seattle, Native Americans are more simple and honest, and more easily moved by blessings.

Unexpectedly, Vito's loyalty had reached a level approaching that of a fanatic.

It was a pleasant surprise.

It seems that igniting the flame of faith in this Native American reservation may be much simpler than expected.

Upon hearing Wayne's words, old Vito raised his hand and pounded his chest, nodded resolutely to Wayne, and said, "Sir, anything."

Wayne asked, "Vito, my friend, what do you mean by kidnapping and murder? Could you explain it to me in detail?"

Vito paused for a moment, then quickly said, "Recently, many women and children have gone missing in the Mukshot Reserve, many of them girls—I know it's the work of some gangs from out of town; they commit crimes here, but nobody cares—"

"Those missing and murdered girls all came from impoverished families at the bottom of society, while the upper-class families who control the casino business dominate the entire Mukchott Reserve. They wouldn't care about those missing poor girls —"

The wealth gap preserved among these affluent Native Americans was so vast that the rich and poor were essentially two completely incomprehensible worlds.

The death of a few poor Native American girls is nothing to the wealthy Native Americans.

After all, in their view, many girls from poor families behave improperly and have little self-control, so it's perfectly normal for them to get into trouble.

As for the legal wrangling over the reservation, what business is it of those rich people? They all live in Seattle.

Therefore, even though the disappearances and murders caused widespread panic among the indigenous people of the entire reservation, there were no good solutions.

The reservation police department has reportedly requested assistance from the FBI, but it's unclear how many months it will take for them to arrive.

By then, who knows how many more new victims there will be.

After listening to the other party explain the current situation in detail, Wayne nodded slightly and said goodbye to Vito.

Soon, several more local Native American patients entered the tent to receive Wayne's exorcism and blessing.

Unlike the current situation on Saint Street, almost every Native American outside these tents suffers from real illnesses and is not a group of fans looking for photos.

Therefore, Wayne actually gained some experience points for each native he received.

There wasn't a trace of falsehood.

This made Wayne feel a little excited.

As the saying goes, "A tree dies when transplanted, but a person thrives."

There are very few real patients near Saints Street in Seattle now, making it much slower to gain experience points through blessings and exorcisms.

This is the side effect of a saint's fame being too great.

In contrast, the Indian reservation is a blessed goldmine.

Those who come to queue up are genuinely sick, not mentally ill.

That's absolutely fantastic.

Soon, Wayne had completed eight more blessings, and he was completely immersed in the pleasure of constantly gaining experience points.

At this time, he also gradually realized the vast gap between the rich and poor on the entire Indian reservation.

Those businessmen and politicians associated with casinos can earn millions of dollars a year.

And those unemployed and impoverished Native Americans, besides these, lived worse than dogs, struggling on the brink of abject poverty.

They lack medicine, jobs, a future, and faith.

Many people become alcoholics or drug addicts because they cannot see the future and feel extremely empty inside.

As Wayne was thinking, the tent flap was lifted, and an old man dressed in shamanic attire stepped in.

Meanwhile, Wayne could hear the exclamations of the Native Americans lined up outside the tent: "It's Barad the Shaman! What's he doing here?"

"Good heavens! Balad is the most famous shaman still alive in our Mukshott tribe. Does he also need this saint's blessing?"

"No, I think Balad Shaman has come with ill intentions—he's probably here to expose the fraudsters—"

"How come the people who just received the blessing said they could really feel the ancestral spirits' blessings entering their bodies?"

When the elderly Barard, dressed in shamanic attire, entered Wayne's tent, the group of natives queuing up couldn't help but whisper among themselves.

Meanwhile, inside the tent, the old man Ballard, dressed in Native American shamanic attire, sat down on the ground in front of Wayne, looking at him solemnly, and said, "Young man, your actions are disrespectful to the ancestral spirits of the Native Americans. I demand that you leave here immediately."

"Otherwise, I will initiate a magical duel with you."

Your basic Witch Doctor skill has been improved (Master 28.9% + 0.8%).

[Experience points +8]

>