“Grow back?” Eli stood up. “Well, other chosen ones at the Observer level might not be able to do this, but fortunately I can.”
"Really?" Patrick and Ernest looked at him with some surprise.
“Of course, as you all know, I am a flower lover and have cultivated quite a few flowers,” Eli conjured a white Flower of Destiny from his hand and placed it on the table. “Actually, this is all because of a special ability bestowed upon me by the God of Life—the Praise of Flowers. When I cultivate flowers, I can use this ability to randomly give the flowers a unique effect.”
“For example, the Rejuvenate flower I used when participating in the competition. Of course, such high-quality special effects are rare; most flowers have extremely limited effects.” Eli shrugged.
"What does this have to do with treating his leg?" Patrick asked, puzzled.
Eli gave him an expression that said he didn't want to talk to an idiot.
"Two years ago, I cultivated a flower that could regenerate severed limbs. The effect was so amazing that I had to rest for a few days because I was exhausted."
"Are the flowers still there?" Phil Gray asked.
“Of course I have it. You should always carry a flower with you, just in case you need it someday,” Eli said proudly, his hand resting on the table.
"That's great! Quick, let's go back to the room and treat his leg." Patrick stood up excitedly, drawing stares from those around him.
“Well, using flowers for treatment is no problem, but,” Eli looked Patrick up and down a few times, a smirk playing on his lips, “you need to grant me one request.”
"Hmm? What are your requirements?" Patrick looked at him warily, sensing a hint of malice in his eyes.
“Look, stand over there and shout three times: I’m a pauper! I’m an idiot!” Eli said smugly, pointing to the tavern entrance.
"Hmph, how childish of you!" Patrick said, somewhat speechless.
But he saw Phil Gray and Ernest staring at him expectantly.
"Alright, I'm really fed up with you. God of fate, let this guy's fate be even more dramatic." Patrick muttered to himself as he slowly walked towards the tavern door.
After shouting three times as Eli had instructed, the patrons in the tavern burst into laughter, and even people outside the tavern came to watch the spectacle.
Patrick awkwardly covered his face, but then suddenly remembered that he was wearing a mask. As if he had a sudden epiphany, he put his hands behind his back and tilted his head back triumphantly.
Phil Gray asked helplessly, "Mr. Eli, is treatment possible now?"
"certainly."
They arrived at Ernest's room.
Eli held a white box in his hand. When he opened the box, he found a fluorescent yellow flower.
"This is it. Eat this flower and your legs will grow back. But it will take time, maybe three days or maybe five days. During this time, you have to stay in bed and not move around."
Ernest hesitated, "But I have to protect the Pope... um," considering that Eli didn't know His Holiness the Pope's identity, he looked at Phil Gray.
Phil Gray patted him on the shoulder. "You usually call me boss, just like Eli does. It's okay, we're safe right now, you don't need to worry."
Eli raised an eyebrow. "Although I don't know your rank, aren't you just causing trouble for the boss like this? Besides, the boss has me protecting him now."
Although Eli's words were unpleasant to hear, they were indeed true. Besides, only by regaining his strength could he protect His Holiness the Pope.
Ernest nodded and accepted the flowers.
“The vitality required to grow a leg is enormous. This flower alone is not enough; it also needs the assistance of growth fluid. Didn’t you get a few bottles of growth fluid the other day? Just drink one bottle a day. If it’s not enough, come find me.”
"Huh? Isn't growth solution only for growing flowers?" Patrick asked curiously.
“Of course not, it has many uses, you’ll see them later.” Eli shook his head.
Only after watching Ernest consume the flower and drink the growth elixir did they leave and return to their respective rooms.
"Cousin, don't worry, I've had Gene take care of him these past few days. His professional-level male servant skills are beyond question," Patrick said with a grin.
Phil Gray ruffled his short, tousled red hair. "Okay, how's it going? Can you get in touch with the family?"
“It still doesn’t work. I try to contact them every day, but it’s no use.” Patrick said dejectedly.
Phil Gray pulled his right hand over and looked at the cut on his index finger. "Don't be too anxious. You should know the strength of the Gray family. They may be at a stalemate right now. We'll hear from them in a while."
“Of course I know, but I’m still a little worried. Wendell has the Holmes family backing him, and his brother is the head of the Holmes family. They will definitely help him. Valker Dodd and the Foster family have always been on good terms. They will definitely join forces against our family.”
Phil Gray was unaware of the various family factions within the Cult of Destiny until Patrick spoke to him. However, he said, "This isn't something we should be thinking about right now. Trust your father; once things stabilize on their end, they'll definitely give us some news."
"Uh-huh."
"I'm planning to go to the trade fair later. I'll go by myself, so you don't need to come with me."
"Huh? Why? You went out by yourself again." Patrick was a little annoyed, mainly because he was worried about his cousin's safety.
"It's a secret. Don't worry, I'll be back soon. I'll go to that trade fair we had last time. If I'm not back by dawn, then come find me."
Phil Gray's main purpose in going to the trade fair was to see if the person who sold skulls last time had anything like the Right Hand of the Dead. That person was a follower of the God of Death and should know a lot about how to collect such items, since he could only find this one follower of the God of Death at the moment.
Of course, Patrick must not know any of this.
Following the same route as before, Phil Gray quickly arrived at the business church-owned store.
He pushed open the door and entered; the proprietress was talking to another person.
The man was wearing a black cloak, obscuring his face. He raised his hand, revealing a pink bubble-shaped pattern embroidered on the cuff. Phil Gray, curious, wanted to get a closer look, but the man left as soon as he entered.
The proprietress smiled and walked towards him. "Welcome! Is there anything you need?"
"I want to attend the evening session of the trade fair."
"Okay, please follow me."
Following the exact same procedure as last time, Phil Gray entered the trade fair. Tonight's trade fair was rather quiet, with not many people.
He spotted the skull on the table immediately; he hadn't expected it to be unsold yet.
“Hello, do you have the deceased’s right hand?” Phil Gray stepped forward and asked directly.
"The right hand of a dead man?" The follower of the god of death pondered for a moment. "I don't have it right now, but I can get it for you."
This guy isn't going to kill someone on the spot and take their hand, is he?
“Well, I want the deceased to have been a chosen one of the gods in life, at a fairly high level, or an ordinary person with some special skills, the kind that require the use of hands,” Phil Gray added. “The hands must be intact, with skin and flesh, not just bones.”
"Of course, no problem. You're also a chosen one of the God of Death, aren't you?"
"I guess so."
"Well, what do you think of this skull? He was a god-level figure in his lifetime. I wouldn't sell it if I weren't short of money." He then promoted his skull.
"Oh, no need. How many days can you expect to get it?"
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