The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 111 Despicable Me
"You know why I chose to come today?" Clayton asked every word.

He just didn't want to do it, so he chose to escape from three days ago to today. If he still wanted to kill Marshall today, then he didn't have to wait for three days.

"Okay, let's see if you're in a hurry, anyway, I'm not in a hurry." The wolf walker lay down, his eyes stayed in the mud under the embankment, the bottomless darkness was reflected in his pupils, his body was still trembling slightly , the cold and other evil things eroded its body together.

Seeing the look in its eyes, Clayton felt unbearable again.

"Or I could lend you the gun."

Marshall pulled a paw from under his body, looked at the short toenail up to the sun, then turned to Clayton.

"Seriously? Do you think I can shoot with my hand?"

Clayton coughed a few times in embarrassment to hide his expression.

"Then let's wait."

"Then just wait, it won't be longer than tonight at the most." The black wolf's lips trembled because of the pain, revealing the two rows of teeth behind it, and it sighed imperceptibly: "I thought people like you would Has enough determination to kill me."

"I'm determined, but there's no need to torture myself."

Clayton's battlefield syndrome has been stopped for two years, but he recently felt like the old disease had relapsed. For the sake of his mental state, he didn't want to go against his original idea.

The black wolf shook its long kiss up and down: "Of course, of course, the breath of death on your body is heavier than before. Maybe doing nothing can give you a breath, so I won't force you."

Clayton sighed and sat down beside it.

Although he hadn't met for a long time, he felt that Marshall seemed like a familiar friend.

This feeling was not surprising. He knew many people, including people with a similar personality to Marshall, but none as open-minded as him.Of course, this does not prevent him from mocking this strange remark: "Don't be a god, you look like a wizard."

"Maybe I am?" Wolfwalker asked back.

"Then why were you easily brought down by the Spider Priest? Wizards are also wary of their own kind, right?"

The wolf's breath sounded for a while before replying: "Then your impression of us is completely wrong. Even wizards have different types, unless they are old guys who have lived for hundreds of years. People can only specialize in one aspect. To be honest, when you have mastered that mysterious perspective and observed the world, the first thought in your heart is definitely not to use magic to kill something, but to lament the nature beauty of."

"So you're really a wizard?"

Black Wolf narrowed his eyes: "I belong to a school of wizards called Benandanti. We study the magic of harvest and various ways of leaving the body, but unfortunately, most of our results cannot be used Fighting. Because our mana is not strong enough, we rely more on rituals and magic circles that require long-term preparation. Just before I fell into the current situation, I was still thinking about how to use magic to spawn wetland mushrooms so that I could survive through this winter."

"It sounds like you are just like ordinary people most of the time." Clayton commented.

"Hmph—it's not accurate to say that. We all think that we are ordinary people. Even if our bodies change, the life we ​​love is still the same as before."

Marshall said so, but the werewolf didn't think it was a normal person.

"Ordinary people are very afraid of death. If I were you, even if I knew I was dying, I would try my best to survive, even if I could only lie in bed for the rest of my life, or live in the sewer with rats as neighbors .”

"Death is also a part of nature, I don't want to struggle too ugly."

When he spoke, every rise and fall of the black wolf's chest and abdomen made a rancid smell come out of his mouth, which was the breath of death.

The situation was so serious that even if Clayton couldn't feel its pain, he knew that it was really hopeless at this moment, and neither bloodletting nor chemicals could cure such symptoms.

He picked up a stone and threw it into the river, but there was no splash, like throwing a moldy raisin on a moldy cake.

"My friend died recently. I thought that when you die, you should always complain about the world, but his suicide note is very optimistic, and it makes me feel the same as you." Speaking of this, Clay He turned his head to look at it.

"It's a good thing." The wolfwalker said earnestly, looking at the river, "Everyone is mortal. We have no right to refuse death, but at least we can face it calmly."

"It's hard."

"Just don't think you're special, and you'll get over it pretty quickly."

Clayton was dumbfounded.

"I haven't lived a hard life, and I happen to have read a lot of books, right?" Hei Lang laughed a few times in a low voice, and there was even a bit of joy in his voice: "We are the same as beasts, and there is no such thing as higher wisdom. What kind of divinity exists, the will to live is no different from the dying struggle of cattle and sheep to be slaughtered, I know that everything about me is a part of nature, the body after death will provide nutrients for insects and plants, and then regenerate from the birth of new life free, so death is not to be feared."

Clayton thought for a while and pointed out his logical contradiction: "But you still want to avenge the witch. You haven't reached the point of abandoning the concept of death."

The wolf walker was not embarrassed at all. It grinned and swiped its tail: "After all, I have lived in this world, and no one can completely resist my instinct. And it seems that I am right, you really don't I'm too used to hard times, otherwise I wouldn't be so hypocritical."

This accusation made the werewolf very unconvinced: "You don't know my past, my life in the colony is unimaginable to you, many people died in front of me, and I sent away at least seventy people with my own hands. The most difficult time, I was trapped in an oasis listening to the cannon fire for two nights."

"That's different, friend, that's different." Black Wolf's voice was getting softer, and he was starting to feel tired after so much talking.

"Remember what I said, otherwise, even if you kill that witch, you won't feel happy. That's not revenge."

Clayton wiped his forehead, straightened his back resentfully, and pricked up his ears.

"Please say."

"Don't think too much. You don't kill people because of the dead. Dead people don't have any demands on this world. Everything you do is for yourself. Remember this, and you won't regret it."

Clayton lowered his head, he needed a moment to think about Marshall's advice, but the latter couldn't wait any longer.

"If you can understand me, then kill me quickly, I'm dying of pain."

Marshall suddenly began to pant violently. Even from the side, it could be seen that its body was shaking more violently than before, and the muscles of its limbs began to relax.When it turned its head, Clayton saw that its pupils were gradually dilating, foam was gathering at the corners of its mouth, and it was no longer the divine horse he met for the first time a few days ago.

Strangely, seeing this scene, Creighton's resistance to doing so disappeared.

He can kill it again.

It wasn't killing, it was saving, and he saved it from suffering.

He said so to himself.

Clayton pulled out his revolver for a final check, and Wolfwalker relaxed even more at his movements.

"Okay, do you have any last words? Or what inheritance needs to be distributed? I can help you bring the words."

"No need."

Clayton raised his pistol.

Marshall gasped, and saw him turn the gun on himself, and yelled again.

"Wait a minute!"

Clayton lowered his gun: "Have you thought of anything to say?"

Black Wolf gave one last smile.

"It's nothing, I just want to remind you that you'd better aim at my eyes when you shoot, and don't let the bullets make holes in my beautiful fur. That's a serious waste of behavior."

"I see."

Clayton moved the muzzle of the gun to its no longer clear eyes, finger on the trigger.

"If the Father loves, He wouldn't make us suffer on earth."

The black wolf finally uttered a complaint, and its eyes looked eagerly at the lake, as if the mud there had been washed away and returned to the gentle silk of water he saw when he was baptized as a child.

"But this ghostly place is really good after looking at it for a long time, don't you think?"

Clayton's index finger snapped down.

(End of this chapter)