The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 167 The Lie of Blood Relatives
Clayton led the tomb robbers back into the woods, and he looked back from time to time to make sure Donna wasn't following.

The little girl showed obvious emotion, but was warned by his eyes, and she retreated.

They walked towards the place where they first met, stepping on half-melted snow and mud.

There is no snow today, but the clouds are thick and the sun's rays are not as bright.

The river bank was ahead, and when he was about to walk out of the forest, Clayton suddenly stopped at the boundary line formed by the shade of the trees. The tomb robber took two steps forward habitually, and he was about to get close to his back before he realized it.

"Are you there?"

The grave robber still pointed his gun at Clayton, but his eyes looked suspiciously around, looking at the river bank.His real purpose was not allowed, so he was afraid that his companions would turn back at this moment and find his self-assertion.

The behavior made him less focused until Creighton turned his head.

The antique dealer just turned his shoulder slightly to the left, and his face turned backward against the structure of the human body. His bright yellow eyes stared at him coldly in the dimness.

"Yes, here we are."

The corners of the werewolf's mouth were cracked almost to the ears, and the jagged fangs were all on display.

This terrifying situation made the tomb robber temporarily unable to remember what he was going to do, and his finger still pulled the trigger reflexively.

The gun did not go off.

His fingers could no longer be clasped.

Because Clayton's finger was just behind the trigger, blocking the movement of the mechanism like a piece of stubborn iron.

Their distance was too close, almost in an instant, the werewolf had disappeared from his vision and appeared behind him.The left palm, which was a circle larger than ordinary people, wrapped the flintlock gun together with his hand, and was still tightening hard. The sound of fingers snapping was only a little softer than the sound of dead branches snapping in the woods.

Facing such an irresistible enemy, the tomb robber wanted to shout, but he finally realized that he regretted it, and would rather receive the cruelest punishment from Easter Island and flee here, but it was too late.

The werewolf's fingers were on his neck, choking his windpipe, leaving only a little room for him to breathe, but not enough to make a sound.His face was flushed, and he desperately scratched the hand on his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the white-toothed mouth opening and closing next to his ear, and the angry growl penetrated deep into his heart like a brand.

"How dare you threaten my family in front of me?!"

It breaks Clayton's heart to think of another family member fearing for his life.

He should have killed the grave robber in an instant, but the anger in his heart made the werewolf not do that, and he wanted the bastard to be tortured before he died.

Ignoring the pleading eyes full of tears, after crushing one of the tomb robber's hands, Clayton inserted his left hand into his mouth that was "not exposed to direct sunlight", and the wolf-like fingers pierced his tongue, The whole thing was torn open, and a few teeth were pried out along the way, so that he could no longer speak.

Not satisfied until now, the werewolf knocked the doom-inviter to the ground, finishing his lumbar spine with a heavy stomp, making his escape impossible.

Inevitably, the werewolf felt hungry again from anger, and the realization that this crude instinct was in effect made him even angrier, and the cyclical conflict drove him into an irreparable rage.

He raised his legs and stomped on the tomb robber's head with whimpers. The solid soles of his boots crushed the flesh, sinking him deep into the mud.

Clayton showed no mercy. He watched the twisted body gradually lose the ability to struggle under his feet. Torturing people did not make the werewolf happy, but the current incident made him feel that it was a responsibility.

He must make the enemies who hurt his family feel the pain.

If it was only a threat to himself, Clayton would have chosen to return it to Winston and let the people of Easter Island handle it themselves, but this bastard actually planned to kill Donna too. If not, he didn't have to let the girl wait there.

The grave robber threatened Donna to stay where she was, only because she was afraid she would go to town and ask for help.
Clayton could not forgive the attempt.

Messy straws suddenly fell from his waist one after another, he was startled, and found that the straw doll given to him by Donna was broken.

It may be that the range of action just now was too large, which damaged it.

He regained his sanity a little, gathered the straw and stuffed it into his pocket, and then realized that he had to dispose of the body.This is not to guard against Winston, but to avoid being found by the locals in Rewo, causing trouble.

Clayton was both a member of the Presbyterian Church and a magistrate. Even if he killed the tomb robber openly, no one would be held accountable. However, if he did so, he would have to dispose of the corpse in strict accordance with the regulations, which would increase the time he stayed in the local area.

He just wanted to bring Donna back to the city as soon as possible. Once the bad luck was resolved in Rewo, he had no interest in staying any longer.

Clayton smoothed out the traces of violence, dragged the body to the river, and a broken tree trunk that was stranded caught his attention.

The shape of the tree is still intact, no different from other deciduous trees, but because of the long soaking time, the bark has rotted, and the texture is like wet black wool felt, and the root part is completely absent. It was preserved, and a longitudinal crack appeared in the lower part. It can be seen that the inside has been hollowed out a long time ago, which may be the reason why it appeared in the river.

He checked the corpse one last time. There were some folded papers in the coat pocket. Clayton thought it might be related to the doom jewels, but he didn't have time to look carefully, and there were no extra pockets on the clothes, so he had to take off the corpse's coat and start again. He took off his overcoat, put on the tomb robber's clothes inside, and then resumed the outside wear.

The clothes smelled of blood and rot, but it was within his tolerance.

He picked up the corpse, stuffed it into the hollow tree trunk, dug some soil to seal the opening at the bottom, and then pushed the dead tree into the river, letting it be carried away by the current.He was familiar with this kind of driftwood. It would not take long for it to lose its buoyancy and sink to the bottom due to the intensification of decay, and no one would see the corpse again.

After finishing all this, Clayton knelt down on the river bank, leaned over and took up the cold river water with his palm to drink, so as to relieve the hunger and thirst brought by the wolf's blood.

"uncle."

Donna's sudden voice made his spine completely straight.

He didn't care to look back, and pressed his hands in the water to wash them again. After making sure that there was no blood left, he stood up and turned around.Seeing the girl standing twenty yards away, the bright red color of the hood brought the dry forest and wetland to life.

He didn't dare to lean over, he could only stand there sullenly. "You didn't listen to me again!"

"I worry about you!"

Donna's eyes were red as she staggered over to wrap his arms around him.

This made Clayton lose his sullenness immediately, and he became bewildered, not knowing how to deal with the situation.

No one has ever been so dependent on him.

"Where's the bad guy?" The little girl asked while lying on his arm.

Clayton's heart calmed down again. He hugged his niece and patted her on the back, while skillfully weaving a lie: "He got what he wanted, so he left. In fact, I was about to Look for you."

When he said this, his eyes looked at the driftwood in the river, hoping that the truth behind the lie would float faster.

"It's good that you're fine." Donna took a breath, her voice was trembling, her hand was still holding Clayton's arm, but her body almost slid down, Clayton's face became tense, and he smelled the gradually thicker blood from her body taste.

He helped his niece up, only to find that her forehead was bleeding, and the delicate white silk skirt was also oozing blood, and the blood had even flowed to her instep.

"I accidentally fell." Donna explained weakly in his arms.

If not, she should have come earlier.

"Doctor." Clayton still wanted to say to see the doctor, but when he remembered that the doctor was fishing somewhere, he couldn't help but burst into anger.He used the verbena ointment he found in the saddle bag earlier to stop the bleeding on Donna's head and legs, then picked her up and strode towards the town.

"Let's go back and find Julius, that guy has good medical skills, and he will definitely not leave you with scars."

He saw a half-foot-long wound on Donna's calf, and there were scratches around the corner of her eyebrows. What a blow to a girl such an ugly scar was!
He regretted not bringing Julius out, otherwise the situation would not have deteriorated to such an extent—they could have dealt with the tomb robbers one by one, and taken care of Donna by the other.

"I don't care if I have a scar or not." The girl curled up into a ball and still had the strength to argue.

Facing the wounded, Clayton could only respond with a voice, for fear that her emotions would affect the wound.

As they passed by, Clayton saw the revolver he had left behind was still lying on the snow. He hugged Donna, unable to free his hands, so he kicked it up high in a clever way. Then he raised his neck and bit it.

Donna took the gun out of his teeth, preempting him with an explanation.

"It's broken."

"I believe in you." Clayton said without any hesitation.

When they walked back to the hotel, Chud Osmar was standing behind the railing on the second floor, which lacked repairs, smoking a cigarette, showing a look of surprise after seeing their miserable state.

"The one with green hair!"

He turned and yelled, calling Julius out.

Clayton took Donna upstairs who was already asleep, laid her down on the bed in the room, and asked Julius to close the door to make the potion.

Julius spread his overcoat on the table, took out the glass bottles he wanted from the complicated pockets and arranged them in order to prepare for emergencies.

"What the hell did you do?" he asked angrily as he tidied up. "Someone was injured after going out, and this girl was the one who was injured?"

"It was a little accident, let's talk about it later when we have time." Clayton replied him.

The uncle clutched his forehead in annoyance and paced back and forth in the room.

After a while, Julius obtained the finished potion through complicated methods. He walked to the bedside with the bottle, and saw the revolver in the arms of the sleeping girl.

"Did you use the gun and it didn't work?" He turned his head and asked.

Clayton paused, looking haggard. "We didn't use it, and it broke."

Julius poured the potion into Donna, then gently pulled the revolver out of her arms, checked the barrel of the gun in a dangerous posture, and thought for a few seconds with a gloomy face. Finally, he uttered a word that Clayton could not understand,

"If she hadn't become like this, I would have thought you were playing me together."

(End of this chapter)