Chapter 139 Holy Communion

Don't get lost while following the book; bookmark it and read "I Build Gundams in America" ​​anytime.

Several large, round soup pots used in restaurant kitchens, along with liquefied gas equipment, were placed on the street.

There is also a countertop for cutting meat.

As Mike cut the meat, he whispered to Wayne:

"Brother Wayne, we bought these stoves from the owner of that burned-down restaurant. They were much cheaper than the market price, and the owner was very grateful for our acquisition..."

"But meat is really expensive these days. Even though it's not high-quality beef, just regular beef, it's still about $10 a pound. Lamb is about the same price... I bought a total of 1 pounds of beef and lamb as you instructed, and it's already cost me $2000..."

"Adding in the cost of equipment, and the cost of bread and spices, the total expenditure came to three or four thousand US dollars..."

As he spoke, Mike looked up at the long line of people waiting anxiously, which stretched all the way to the other end of the street. He said with some concern:

"Brother Wayne, we don't have much money in total, not enough to feed so many mouths..."

One pound is approximately equal to 0.454 kilograms, which means that ordinary scraps of beef and lamb cost about $21 per kilogram.

The better ones cost $50 per kilogram.

Converted to RMB, ordinary scraps of beef and mutton cost about 140-150 RMB per kilogram, or 75 RMB per jin (500g).

There are far too many homeless people.

According to official statistics, Seattle originally had 1.7 homeless people, but after the floods a few days ago, the number has increased by at least several thousand.

This is still the official figure.

If all these people come attracted by the smell, Wayne's expenses will be astronomical.

As Wayne's financial manager, Mike felt it was necessary to give Wayne a reminder.

My brother is a saint, good in every way, except that he is too kind.

This country suffers so much, how could he possibly manage it all by himself?

With a sigh, Mike continued:

"I was in such a rush this time that I could only buy things at the supermarket. Next time I'll buy imported frozen goods from New Zealand and Australia, which should be much cheaper."

It didn't matter before, but now that the Saints Gang has taken shape, he, as the treasurer, has to find ways to save money.

For a moment, Mike even felt a slight empathy for the president in the White House.

With so little money, trying to cover 10 pots with 7 pot lids is simply impossible.

No wonder the president has started prioritizing his own financial gain.

Since things are going to break down anyway, I might as well fill my pockets first and then screw it all.

Of course, as the treasurer of the Saints, Mike couldn't do that; he could only remind Wayne to control his spending from the beginning.

Wayne, with a calm expression and a slight smile, said:

"Don't worry, Mike. Tonight, you and David will come with me somewhere. Now, let's put the lamb in the pot..."

As he spoke, Wayne rolled up his sleeves and put all the spices he had instructed Mike to buy from the Asian supermarket—Sichuan peppercorns, fennel seeds, star anise, cinnamon, bay leaves, angelica root, and cardamom—into the pot, along with a few dried chilies.

This was the same recipe for stewed beef and mutton that he liked to use in his previous life. He never expected that he would use it in America in this life to give alms on the street.

Such a surreal scene, even if told to my past self, would be dismissed as a fabrication.

What the hell has America become like?

There were four pressure cookers in total, two for beef and two for lamb, and they started stewing very quickly.

There were also flatbreads prepared from the Muslim community.

Soon, the aroma of beef and mutton wafted out.

Wayne's stewing broth recipe is a common one for stewed meat in Inner Mongolia, so the aroma is naturally excellent.

The aroma of stewed meat wafted through the street, making those queuing up look on with anticipation and their mouths water.

Everyone witnessed the saint personally stewing the meat, and their hearts were filled with immeasurable emotion.

Especially some of the core members who had followed Wayne for a long time.

In their hearts, Wayne, this saint, was so sacred that he was willing to do kitchen work and cook meat for them, ordinary people.

What a noble character this is!

A sacred soul!

After more than half an hour, the pressure cooker began to release pressure, and an even richer aroma wafted out.

Wayne lifted the lid of the pot, poked the meat with a spoon to make sure it was tender, and said to old Billy beside him:

"Let's begin."

Old Billy immediately said:

"Start serving the meals."

The queue of people immediately moved toward the stove.

To Wayne's surprise, standing at the front were Old Will and a dozen or so core fanatics of the Saints Gang.

Old Will, holding a disposable plastic bowl with a reverent expression, said:

"Sir, this is the first Holy Communion you have given, and it is of great significance to us."

His eyes were filled with longing for communion.

"You guys..." Wayne couldn't help but laugh and cry at the same time, then shook his head, ladled a full spoonful of meat for old Will, and said gently:

"Come help out as soon as you're done eating."

Old Will was overjoyed, as if the food in his bowl wasn't mutton but a heavenly meal. He quickly went to the side and began to eat, making sizzling sounds as he ate, his voice trembling as he said:

"Kido... Siha... Sandi..."

This is so delicious!

I never expected that the saints' cooking skills were so amazing, but thinking about it, it makes sense, since this is Holy Communion!

As he spoke, he faithfully took out his phone and recorded the scene of Wayne distributing the meals.

His phone now contains many photos and videos.

This includes Wayne's snowy day charity and the outcry for his acquittal in court.

As a devout Christian, he knew all too well how valuable these materials were.

This is real evidence that the Messiah is walking on earth.

Its value is in no way inferior to that of Jesus' Shroud of Turin.

Once the people of this country understand the holiness of the saints, these materials will become invaluable.

The line for food moved forward, and Wayne gently scooped a large spoonful of meat evenly onto each person's plate, then handed them a flatbread.

Protein and carbohydrates, along with sufficient salt, are essential on this cold street, whether for the homeless or for low-income people in underprivileged communities.

What's more, the stewed meat tasted exceptionally good, incredibly delicious, and many people devoured it.

"Sir, thank you... May I... take one?"

A man who looked Middle Eastern stepped to the front of the line and timidly thanked Wayne.

Wayne served him a bowl of broth and a flatbread, handing it to him gently, saying:

"Of course, my friend."

The man gave him a grateful look, and despite the scalding soup, he quickly drank a sip, as if he had come back to life.

Then, he let out a long sigh of relief, carefully took out a paper bag, covered the plastic soup bowl, and put it in along with the flatbread.

He wanted to take the food with him.

Wayne asked gently:

"Not to your taste, friend?"

The Middle Eastern man gave a smirk and mumbled:

"No... sir, I've never tasted such delicious soup before... My wife and two children are still at home, and I want to take some back with me..."

Wayne then turned to David, who was helping out in the kitchen, and said:

"Brother David, pack two more portions for this gentleman to take back."

A look of gratitude appeared on the Middle Eastern man's face, and he said in a trembling voice:

"Thank you... thank you so much... I've heard them say you're a true saint... and you truly are..."

Wayne took the two packed portions of broth and flatbread and handed them over, asking gently:

"It seems that the mosques in the Muslim community are also distributing meals; you can go there and get some more."

Upon hearing this, the man, who had been forcing himself to stay composed, could no longer hold back. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he said in a trembling voice:

"I...I dare not go...I'm a traitor...I'm someone who deserves to go to hell..."

As she spoke, she squatted down on the ground and burst into tears.

[Haishan Muller, a fallen desert elf from the East, was a translator at the Dark Court's military base in Afghanistan. After withdrawing from Afghanistan with the Dark Court's army, she survived in the Demon Realm dungeon, living a life of nightmares and unbearable reality.]

He was a Japanese translator.

Seemingly having finally found someone to confide in, and with no other Middle Easterners around, Haisan sobbed and said:

"I was born into a wealthy family in Afghanistan, attended college in America, and returned to Afghanistan with the U.S. military... All I wanted was to bring democracy and freedom to my homeland, but God... they killed my friends, and many of my fellow countrymen..."

"I...I can't sleep. When I close my eyes, all I see are those dead people...I don't dare go to the temple, afraid someone will recognize me...I'm a traitor...I deserve all of this...I deserve it..."

Wayne nodded slightly as he continued distributing food to the others.

Strictly speaking, Saddam Hussein should be considered an Afghan who returned to his homeland with the US military to find new employment. However, he did not expect that the invading army would not only indiscriminately kill innocent people, but also cause the collapse of the regime. He also became a lost soul on the land of America.

The U.S. military has always been unparalleled in its lack of morality and inhumanity.

However, compared to those traitors who were completely abandoned at the airport when the US military withdrew and eventually fell from the sky while clinging to the plane's wheels, becoming aerial acrobats, this Hai Shan is already considered quite good.

At least he's still alive.

Wayne had never liked this kind of person, so he didn't say anything more at this moment.

After Haisan finished crying, she bowed deeply to Wayne, took his mutton soup and flatbread, and staggered away.

Wayne distributed alms as usual, and by noon, all four large pots of meat soup had been given out, but the line had only grown longer.

Many people who were originally at the flood relief sites, as well as people from nearby low-income communities, came with their families after hearing the news.

Wayne immediately sent Mike and David to buy more supplies, cooked again, and continued the almsgiving. Before they knew it, it was afternoon.

"Sir, thank you..." A Mexican-looking man stood in front of the soup pot, his voice trembling, "Thank you for purchasing my kitchen equipment and giving me some emergency funds..."

"You know, G's people burned down my restaurant, and the insurance company said it wasn't covered by insurance. I was bankrupt... Your acquisition saved me..."

The man who arrived was Sergio, the owner of the Mexican restaurant on the street corner that had been burned down, who had once come to pay respects to Wayne at the pier.

Wayne said calmly:

"Sergio, my friend, don't worry, you have already gained my friendship, and I will seek justice for you. Now, eat."

As he spoke, he served Sergio a full bowl of broth and added a flatbread.

Although Sergio understood that Wayne had no responsibility towards him and that G was at the height of its power, far beyond the Saints' ability to contend with, he was still deeply moved. He took the soup bowl, thanked them profusely, and went to eat it.

Just then, the roar of engines came from the street, and two law enforcement vehicles drove into the street and stopped in front of Wayne's charity stall. Several uniformed men got out of the vehicles and walked over quickly.

"Hey sir, King County Public Health Department, you must immediately stop what you're doing and accept the fine!"

You have encountered enforcers of the Dark Court. Avoid conflict and punishment, and you will receive a reward.

Your Golden Title Saint has been upgraded (17% + 1%).