The 24-Hour Potion Digestion Plan

Thunderous applause erupted.

Everything is Oldest One according to plan.

Having already performed several rounds of routine Trick, Fors felt the Potion rapidly being absorbed, a slight smile playing on his lips as he prepared to begin the final act.

She coughed lightly and spoke into the audience through a portable megaphone:

"We need an assistant for the next performance."

As soon as the words were spoken, a chorus of Self- recommendations erupted across the square:

"Me! Me! Me!"

Choose me, I have experience!

"I can!"

"..."

The people shouting were mostly underage boys, with a small number of girls and a few adults mixed in; they were mostly just there for the fun or to amuse themselves.

Fors remained silent until they had tired of shouting and their voices had quieted down a bit, then slowly smiled and said, "Sorry, I have my own assistant..." As she spoke, she grabbed the black cloth on the table, shook it, and suddenly pulled it off.

Lorry, dressed as Clown, suddenly appeared on stage.

Then, Fors clapped his hands, and a wooden plank appeared out of thin air behind them, supported steadily by a tray underneath.

She snapped her fingers again, and a gleaming throwing knife and a strip of black cloth about half a palm's width appeared in her outstretched left palm.

At the same time, he caught an apple that fell from nowhere with his right hand.

Fors asked with a smile, "Do you know what the next performance is?"

A middle-aged man in his thirties or forties answered loudly from the southwest:

Blindfolded knife throwing!

"Congratulations..." Fors slightly, "You answered incorrectly."

Lorry consciously picked up the apple and the black cloth strip, stood a dozen centimeters in front of the wooden board, balanced the apple on his head, and then blindfolded himself.

The middle-aged man in his thirties or forties looked like he was questioning the meaning of life.

Fors explained with a laugh, "When I performed this show before, my assistant would often run away instinctively because he was afraid of the throwing knives, so I had to make improvements to the performance."

"If he can't see it, he won't dare to hide."

The audience burst into laughter in response.

Fors tossed the throwing knife a couple of times, seemingly adjusting his grip, and then, under the watchful eyes of the Spectator, walked to a spot about ten meters away from the wooden plank.

Swish!

She threw the throwing knife, which flew straight towards Lorry's chest.

"Oh no! Get out of the way!" Amidst the uproar on stage, the middle-aged man who had just answered the question suddenly changed his expression and shouted a warning.

However, Lorry remained motionless as the throwing knife pierced his body.

Screams erupted from the crowd, and parents quickly covered their children's eyes or scolded them, telling them to turn their backs and stop looking at the stage.

"Help!" the middle-aged man shouted at Fors.

He seemed about to rush forward, but just as he lifted his foot, he was surprised to see Lorry take a few steps forward and then step aside, revealing a wooden plank.

The throwing knife was deeply embedded in it. "Uh..." The middle-aged man stood there, stunned, looking at the stage in confusion.

The square was quiet for a few seconds, then a shout of "Bravo!" rang out from somewhere, sparking another wave of cheers and applause that almost pierced the sky.

"I heard you say the throwing knife was fake?" Fors looked at the middle-aged man.

The middle-aged man paused, wondering to himself, "Did I say something?" But then, realizing this was an opportunity to participate closely, he nodded vigorously and said:

"Right!"

Fors smiled and said, "Then you can come up and check."

Upon hearing this, the middle-aged man glanced back at his wife and children, then walked towards the stage without hesitation—he needed to go around halfway up from the back to get on.

Fors tossed over a portable megaphone and casually asked:

"May I ask your name?"

The middle-aged man, mimicking a performer, brought a portable megaphone close to his mouth. "Matthew, my name is Matthew, and I love watching circus performances."

During casual conversation, he wandered around to the stage.

Fors smiled slightly and gestured that the props could now be inspected. Matthew approached the wooden board, pulled out the throwing knife, and carefully examined it inside and out. He then loudly addressed the audience:

It's true.

"Don't believe him, everyone. He's definitely a shill." From the southwest, a few playful villagers from Graystone Village deliberately caused trouble.

Matthew glared at them, annoyed, and explained earnestly:

I'm not a shill.

"The throwing knife is indeed real."

"We don't believe it!" "How can you prove it?" the hecklers said deliberately.

Fors glanced at Lorry, Lorry handed the apple from his head to Matthew, indicating with his eyes that he could use this method to prove it.

So that's what the apple was for... Then what were you doing holding it up for so long...? Matthew was inwardly weeping, feeling a bit shocked.

This is completely different from the Trick I've seen before.

Lost in thought, Fors instructed him to cut the apple into eight pieces in front of everyone and throw them to the Spectator who were nearby.

Then, she smiled and looked around at the people who had been egging her on, "Since the props are fake, who among you dares to go up on stage and try?" (Go to Bing search for the latest chapter!)

I asked three times, but no one answered.

At this moment, Fors looked at Matthew: "Would you like to participate in the performance?"

Matthew was immediately caught in a dilemma.

For someone who developed a strong interest in Circus Troupe performances during childhood after seeing them in passing, this suggestion is quite tempting.

But the problem is, the throwing knife is real.

Yes, he knew that the principle behind Trick was illusion, Clown's assistant's unharmed state was proof of this, but the problem was, the throwing knife was real.

He cut the apple himself and even ate a piece.

"You can't agree!" Matthew's wife shouted from below the stage, leading their sons to push their way to the front. "What if something goes wrong?"

Lorry coughed and suddenly spoke:

"Don't worry, ma'am."

"Please trust my employer; in the event of any unforeseen circumstances, you will receive satisfactory compensation—my former colleagues are the best proof. Their families all received substantial death compensation."

Former colleagues...? The Spectator burst into laughter.

Hearing this joke, Matthew felt relieved. He walked to the edge of the stage, squatted down, and said to his wife, "Let me give it a try."

"Even if I'm unlucky, you can remarry with your sons. I don't think anyone can refuse a generous dowry and three free laborers."

"Of course, if possible, I still hope you will save me first."

He nervously delivered the joke he had made up on the spot, unsure whether his wife would be angry at such Self humor.

I don't know if this will make anyone laugh.

In this state of anxiety, Matthew heard his wife's voice:

"Good."

Then, he saw his wife turn around, her eyes scanning the crowd, and he instinctively asked, "What are you looking for?"

His wife said without turning her head:

"Looking for someone to marry." "Haha!" The dozen or so people around couldn't help but burst into laughter, and as the word spread, similar sounds spread outwards like waves.