The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 103 What I Learned in the Army
The soldier named Barron listlessly led the sheriffs down the tunnel down the mine.

His depression had nothing to do with the killing he'd just been involved in, it was just that he couldn't participate in the activities of his companions.

Clayton had seen too many of them, and the infantry was the worst.

These poor people who can only walk on two legs and dance face to face with death will eventually be alienated under pressure.

He had seen an infantryman trying to skin a dead body to make boots before, for no other reason than to be curious about the plasticity of human skin, and materials that could be used for experiments were everywhere.

Fear and the experience of killing again and again and breaking through the apex of sin turned the original young man full of glory into a demon.

Clayton felt sorry for them.

He had been one step away from that state until Uren's death brought him back.

When a person's spirit breaks free from reality, he can truly understand the whole picture of himself.

As they went deeper into the cave, the smell of blood became stronger.

They saw some dead people on the way.

The killing hadn't ended for a long time, and hot blood was flowing from the bullet holes and knife marks on the corpse.

Coats had been stripped from the corpses, and blood soaked the underwear.

They all opened their mouths, as if they were screaming, and their eyes were still staring at the stranger in front of them.

But Clayton knew that this phenomenon was not the reason they were shouting during their lifetime, but that the soldiers would pull out the good teeth of the dead and sell them to the dentist to make false teeth, so they would open the mouth of the corpse.Now as long as they lift their lips, there is a high probability that they can see the bare gums.

Although the teeth are not worth much, they are of little weight and do not take up space.

He probed a little, but found that there were only a few empty spaces in these mouths. It seemed that the cultural atmosphere in Sasha City still had the habit of making these bastards develop civilization.They only pulled out the fake teeth inlaid with gold and silver, and none of the real teeth were moved.

However, this phenomenon also shows that the soldiers under Major Doron have rich battlefield experience and have fought in the colony for a long time, otherwise they would not develop such a habit.

Interested, Barron squatted down and inspected the corpse, then stood up again, spitting in disdain.

"Fuck! So clean!"

"In fact, all we need is a map of the mine." Mary frowned and said, she didn't want to see these people for a moment.

Her repulsive remarks were met with a grateful response from the soldiers.

Clayton couldn't make her wish: "No, I think we still need a soldier to help pass Major Doron's order, otherwise we will be at risk of being attacked by other wandering soldiers."

"makes sense."

Barron's face returned to the initial depression.

Although the mine is complex, it is well organized by the former residents.

Some places are used for living, some are used for storage, and some are used as halls or special aisles.

The functional area of ​​this underground space is exquisitely arranged, even the ancient cave dwarves are no more than this-Clayton has never seen the ability of cave dwelling dwarves, so he can guess casually.

When they came to a particularly spacious and well-connected space, they found that there were also a lot of corpses here. Blood and overturned sundries were poured all over the ground, and soldiers were searching for valuable items here.

There are many sad faces, sad carcasses and silent hearts.

The dead bodies piled up in this dark hall, soaked in blood plasma, their hands and feet pressed against each other, as if they were about to crawl at any time.

Seeing such a scene, Barbara also turned her head away in fear.

The condition of Florentine has always been worse than death, but it doesn't matter. Mary prayed in a low voice. She may not be very religious, and she has killed people before, but such a scene is still powerful for people who have lived in the city for a long time. impact.

Creighton remained silent, he had nothing to say.

Some soldiers were squatting in the blood plasma and groping for the corpses. Their arrival made the murderers look up and even take out their weapons, but the presence of Baron and the command from Major Doron immediately made these soldiers with bloodstained hands and faces Lost interest.

"This is the storeroom of the mine,"

Baron introduced them with a simple map: "However, the things you want are indeed not seen here. When we came... Although it is not what it is now, most of the goods are still similar, and no one will move them. Something like whale oil."

Clayton and others scanned it several times, and indeed found no trace of whale oil here.

He absolutely believed Baron's words. The soldiers here couldn't have taken the refined whale oil. A barrel of whale oil weighs about 7 kilograms. Waste of time and energy.

While they were still observing here, Baron himself went to talk to those looters, and took back another strange oil lamp.

Clayton swayed to him as if nothing had happened.

"You are responsible for taking these lamps away?"

The soldier looked at him suspiciously: "That's right."

"How many of these lamps do you have here?"

"Why should I tell you this?" Barron asked warily, he didn't have a good impression of this tall man with a scar on his face.

Clayton needs to correct the fact that this is wrong: "I'm not really interested in specific numbers, and we feel uncomfortable when we are always followed. We might as well reach a consensus that you tell us where the other teams with lights went , and in what order do you plan to collect the lanterns, record this information on the map, and then give the map to us, we don’t need you to follow.”

If he didn't have to follow these sheriffs, Barron could collect the loot while there was still some time.

After thinking for a while, he widened his eyes sincerely: "Thank you, your proposal is really good."

Clayton returned a seemingly benign smile.

The lieutenant returned to his people, exchanged a few words with them in a low voice, and signaled them to conduct a search near the current tunnel, whether they found whale oil or the corpse of a certain detective (he described the image of Bruno) You must report to him immediately, and if you find nothing, return here and wait for his next instruction.

This is not an order that is difficult to execute, and everyone in the Presbyterian Church acted on their own.

Clayton and Mary enter a tunnel.

This woman couldn't be left alone, and if Bruno happened to die in her area, they wouldn't receive the message.

The female sheriff looked sideways at the newly added scar on Clayton's face, thoughtfully.

After leaving the soldiers, Marie Etta could finally ask questions.

"Why did you send that soldier away again?" She remembered Creighton's initial refusal to let Barron go.

"It's nothing, I just find that people are not ready to be honest."

"Everyone? Who is included?"

"Everyone." Clayton squatted down and turned a lying corpse over.

This corpse was exactly the size of Bruno.

Although the relationship between the detective and the lieutenant was not that good, Creighton would still feel sorry for him if he died.

In this day and age, such responsible men are becoming rarer and rarer.

"Clayton, come and take a look at this corpse." Mary greeted behind Clayton.

He stood up and turned around, seeing an unexpected presence.

"Sanders, why is he here?"

Clayton looked at the corpse that was half the size of a normal person in surprise. He didn't expect the dwarf to die here. Not long ago, the other party said that if he went to jail, he would go to help pay the bill. His temper made him unforgettable. .

"Bruenor's people may he rest in peace."

After learning the name of the corpse, Mary sighed.

"Well, this at least shows that our work is in the right direction. Maybe we can find some clues in him."

She looked at the corpse and couldn't speak.

The order in which the soldiers cleaned the battlefield was from the outside to the inside. This area had already been swept away. There was almost nothing left on Sanders’ body. Like the corpses he had seen before, only thin underwear was left on his body. None of the pockets.

She turned her head and saw Clayton was looking at a corpse next to him in a daze, with an absent-minded look.

"Clayton, what are you looking at?"

Clayton withdrew his gaze, with a gloomy expression: "I saw another acquaintance."

Mary lowered her voice subconsciously: "My condolences."

"Mr. Stepan, he used to be a competitor of my antique shop." Clayton breathed heavily, "I am more surprised that he is here than Sanders."

The corpse was an old man about 50 years old, with silver semi-long hair combed smoothly behind his head, and there were not too many wrinkles on his face.The clothes on his body are not fashionable, but they are decent.Probably because he was holding a ampule tightly in his hand, which made it impossible to take off his sleeves, he became one of the rare corpses that kept his coat and clothes.

At this moment, because of the rough treatment of the raiders, his facial expression was distorted, as if he was looking at Clayton with a half-smile.

All antique dealers are jerks, and the difference between them is only the difference between a big jerk and a little jerk.

Take himself as an example, if someone sent him to prison for half a year for smuggling and selling counterfeit goods, he would have no complaints, and he might even make a note in his diary before going to prison—— "Justice Has Been Served".

Mr. Stepan was a bit more of a jerk than he was, and the dude was notorious for disrupting the market with a flood of fakes that almost affected his counterparts in the next city.

But his death here is absolutely a disaster.

Antique dealers usually have local channels if they want to make counterfeit goods, so they don’t need to go to the black market to buy goods.

Mr. Stepan's visit to the black market in the mine can only prove one thing—he is buying real goods this time.

"He was a good taxpayer who may not have done his duty as a citizen, but he hadn't cheated the poor of a penny either"

Clayton struggled to speak.

After a brief mourning, he was silent for a longer time this time.

"Mary, I'll go back. It may take a while. If other people finish their search, tell them to wait here first."

"I see."

(End of this chapter)