The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 146 Tracing the Origin
It was rare for Julius to show his professionalism. He stood up and pressed the table, leaned his upper body forward, and pronounced vigorously so that Clayton could hear his words clearly.

"Listen, I don't know who gave you this necklace, but I'm sure he's dying. If you don't want to be like him, don't even think about giving this necklace away. The bad luck won't leave you so soon and went."

"What if I go to church?"

"Why do you have such an idea?" Julius was moved by this shocking thought. He didn't know that Clayton left his name on the "Record of the Righteous" of the local church, but this did not affect his conclusion :

"Even if they are willing to help you, their methods are not applicable to you. The priests will only guide the sun's holy power to fill your life palace and temporarily cover the trajectory of fate, but this costs a lot, and the effect is only temporary , The bad luck has not dissipated, you have to go to the church every once in a while to receive the infusion of holy power. This is completely suicide for the dark blood! If you think this is also considered to escape the bad luck, I will do whatever you want."

Clayton pushed his hair back again, realizing the seriousness of the situation.

"Then what should I do to get it done once and for all?"

"Who sent this necklace? Does he know the legend of doom jewels?" Julius pointed to the necklace and motioned him to look.

"A grave robber shouldn't care about this. For two or three shillings, they are even willing to open their father's coffin, and he picked up this necklace from the water." Clayton paused: "But if you want to see him, I can do it too."

The grave robber claimed to have worked for Mr. Stepan, his hapless colleague who had been killed in the mine massacre.

When the family disappeared for almost a month, Mr. Stepan's family was probably clearing up various bills and letters and preparing to sell the property. He could go there to find out the identity of the tomb robber, and buy some low-priced assets to enrich the store.

Julius took a deep breath. He actually didn't have much experience in dealing with the fog of doom.

"Wait, now I need you to examine this necklace, can you tell when it was made?"

This is Clayton's specialty, and he has studied the workmanship of necklaces before, so he can answer it without thinking too much at this moment.

"The ivory material is still clean white, which means that it has not been carved for a long time, and there are some water erosion marks on the back. The soaking process may interfere with my judgment, but even so, I can be sure that it will not be worn for more than Half a year."

Julius nodded: "Then the owner who caused it to be entangled in the mist of misfortune may have passed away this year. Only by finding him or her can I know how to resolve this misfortune."

"I will, but I want to know when the bad luck it carries will grow to the extent that it can hurt my family?" Clayton asked in a deep voice.

The mage shrugged: "You can rest assured that unless your family lives in the same city as you, its bad luck will not be contagious."

Clayton stared at him with dilated pupils, biting more forcefully.

"Donna lives in the room next to mine."

Julius blinked his eyes, only to realize that the "common sense" possessed by the two did not match.

"Sorry, I misused the word. In the eyes of spellcasters, 'family' is not a warm word. Its judgment may be different from what you imagined. It is more appropriate to describe it as a slave with title. Parents give birth to children, so Having the right to control the children; or the wife changing her surname and becoming an accessory of her husband from the meaning of occultism, these two categories belong to the "family", and nieces are not counted. So you can rest assured. Be careful not to let her touch this thing, You will be the only one who dies."

Clayton finally breathed a sigh of relief: "Then I'm relieved."

He put on his overcoat again, grabbed his bowler hat and was ready to go.

"I will ask where the tomb robber picked it up by the river. As for you, find a way to stay in the store and repair the relationship with Miss Charlotte. You can't keep getting angry with your colleagues, then It will affect work efficiency."

Julius, not expecting him to keep himself in the shop, took a surprised step forward.

"Seriously, don't you have any sense of crisis? You let me, an expert, stay in the store instead of letting me accompany you when you are in a bad luck situation?"

Clayton stood in the doorway, gloves on, right hand on the doorknob.

"It's just a little thing to do today, I can handle it." After finishing speaking, he closed the door heavily.

"That's not what you meant when you mentioned your niece—"

Clayton didn't hear Julius' last words when the door slammed shut.

As soon as he left the shop, he called for a cab and went to Mr. Stepan's.

The poor old guy died before he could make a will. When Clayton came to his house, his sons were arguing about his disappearance, but none of them had any objection to the contact information of the antique business. .

Obviously, they did not intend to continue the business of their fathers, so Clayton easily got the information he wanted.

The tomb robber who gave him the necklace had also come here to ask for an account before, and it was because of his visit that the sons of Stepan's family realized that their father was really missing, rather than going out to take care of him. Business.

The fat old grave robber was called Big Paul, and as Clayton expected, he belonged to a professional grave robber organization.

"Easter Island"

This group of tomb robbers is as notorious as Mr. Stepan in the collection industry. They not only provide antique dealers and collectors with illegal and unknown sources of precious antiquities, but also provide fresh corpses to major medical schools—— Of course, the origin of these corpses is also unknown.

One of the sheriff's duties is guarding cemeteries.

But Clayton has heard that some tomb robbers will turn their attention to the living after they find that they are unable to invade guarded cemeteries. Concerned about the cause of death of the corpse.

When negotiating with tomb robbers, you must be more careful.

Although he is already a werewolf, he may still be shot to death in human form, and if his identity as a sheriff is recognized, it will easily arouse the suspicion of the other party and make the maliciousness appear in advance.So he asked one of Mr. Stepan's sons as a referrer, and took a while to invite the big Paul.

It was already the next day when they met again.

The fat old man recognized Clayton when he walked into the door of the cafe. He rubbed his fat hands with a red face, and quickly stepped over the threshold to sit in front of the lieutenant. The door closed automatically due to the angle of inclination, but the door But the bell on it seemed to sway a little longer because of his size.

"Another plate of samila sausage." Clayton called to the waiter.

The old man nodded happily, already picked up the knife and fork, and tried to add in a flattering tone:
"Another cup of coffee?"

Clayton gave him a cold look, did not continue to give orders to the waiter, but took out the necklace that they formed the intersection from his breast pocket and asked, "Where did you pick up this necklace?"

Big Paul didn't expect him to ask this question, pointed at himself with a knife and fork and said in surprise.

"Aren't you going to hire me?"

It's hiring again—Clayton is already very sensitive to this word. During this time, many people plan to come to him to earn money, and he doesn't have so many assistant needs.

"Forget it, I don't have enough food for myself," he said perfunctorily.

Big Paul wrinkled his face in disappointment, but at the next moment, the waiter brought the sausage to the table, and he started eating and drinking happily again.

"nadarri."

He was quite upright, and he gave an answer while chewing, but it was a little vague.

Clayton didn't hear at all.

"what?"

Big Paul quickly swallowed all the food, and then repeated it with a sullen face.

"Nidley River."

"The River Nidalee grows."

The fat old man opened his mouth, his expression was stiff, and his tongue was solidified into a stone.

He wanted to say something, but his literary accomplishments were not enough for him to express what he wanted to say, so he stretched out a hand and stabbed towards the east a few times like a spear.

"It's there. It's less than two days' ride across."

"Next to it is Revo, the town to the east of the city?" Clayton asked suspiciously.

He remembered the town, which was not easy for the average person to find even though it was right around the city.Detective Hook had marked this area in the draft of the land transaction document at the beginning. There were highlands and water sources next to it, and the forest was not far away, so it was very convenient to start a fire and fetch water.

The fat old man nodded, his expression finally came alive.

"Yes, it's Rewo Town, damn it, I can't always remember this name!" He wiped his mouth and prayed a few words in a low voice, asking the heavenly father to bless his eloquence.

There is nothing pious about grave robbers doing this, it is sacrilege.

Clayton couldn't stand the old man anymore, since he had already got the answer, he didn't need to contact him anymore.

"Very good, farewell." He quickly moved his long legs towards the sliding door.

"You really don't plan to hire us?" Big Paul persuaded Clayton once again, and after he turned around, he looked at him expectantly, pointed upwards, and used the tone commonly used by drunks and gamblers He whispered: "Let me tell you something secretly. We also have people on the top to contact us. We have whatever goods you want."

"Who's covering you?" Creighton returned, interested in the answer to this question.

There was a knowing smile on the fat old man's face, his eyes were narrowed into two slits, and he knew that the other party would come back.

So he spat out the name that was infinitely powerful in his eyes.

"It's the Presbyterian Church, that."

This time Clayton walked away without mercy.

(End of this chapter)