The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 341 Civilized City Sasha City

In the werewolf's dream, all kinds of bizarre scenes followed one after another.

Uren rode upside down on the saddle to show other soldiers his superb riding skills, winning countless applause and whistles; Lieutenant Eko, who looked ferocious, walked back and forth in the ranks with a whip in his hand, beating the soldiers until they were covered in blood. The short and strong man had eyes like a hungry hyena; after the baptism of guns and artillery by the Tonton people, the bodies of the soldiers in the camp, along with the tents, were riddled with holes from shrapnel and were waiting for their companions to clean up; the old fishmonger Loren, who squinted his eyes to sell fish on the street, waved a sharp knife and nailed the stealing mice to death beside the pile of bright silver fish; when the warship stopped at the port of the neutral commercial island of Hisar for a temporary rest, the prostitutes who had been waiting at the port for a long time greeted him with sweet smiles as he just got off the ship.
No matter what he dreamed of, the dazzling sun of the foreign land was always high in the sky.

Clayton woke up before dark. The things in his dream neither made him happy nor sad. He just felt inexplicably nostalgic.

Those things, whether beautiful or absurd, are, in short, "the past", and he is about to start working on the present.

The rhythmic sounds of the wheels turning and the horses' hooves hitting the ground were still ringing. Clayton thought they might have stopped to rest, but he didn't know.

He turned his head and saw his niece Donna sitting on the side without any courtesy. Her body slid lazily down the back of the chair, and her legs stretched forward under her skirt, like a bridge over the leg space, all the way to the seat opposite. The Book of Sartaki was still flipping in her hands. The paper used to compile the book was very thin, and the number of pages seemed endless. The people in the Presbyterian Church might have thought it was their personal belongings, so they didn't take it away.

Although Donna was half lying down, she was reading very seriously and didn't notice that Clayton had woken up.
The lieutenant did not disturb her. He slowly propped himself up and turned his face to the car window. Outside, he could see a high green slope without a single tree on it. One could tell with the naked eye that it covered a large area. It was the competition venue used for the annual horse racing festival in Sasha City. Looking down, he could see the reflection of the low-lying railroad tracks.

Although there were no trains passing by at the moment, Clayton could still faintly hear the sound of the whistle.

The voice was extremely inspiring and immediately dispelled the slight sleepiness that remained in his heart.

He changed his slowness in waking up, rubbed his face with his hands, and watched the changing scenery outside the window more attentively.

"We'll be there in five minutes!" the coachman suddenly shouted outside.

Someone in the carriage immediately started shouting.

"Shit! That voice scared me!"

Clayton did not say these words. He looked at his niece in astonishment, who had changed from being absorbed in her reading to looking upward angrily, but still had not noticed that he had woken up, otherwise she would never have said these words, but should have been patient like she had been in Wonderland.

"Donna," Clayton called.

Donna sat up suddenly, holding the book and looking at Clayton with a silly smile.

Clayton stared at her until her smile faded, she consciously retracted her legs that were occupying the extra seat, and sat up straight again. Then he spoke calmly: "Next, we are going back to civilized society. This is not a rural area. People pay attention to both inner and outer appearance, so you have to pay special attention to your image."

"I didn't tell you these things before because I didn't ask you to. It's different now. We will attend Pero's funeral in a while, and you can't act like a wild girl then."

Donna bowed her head.

He mentioned Perrault, and she could not say anything in reply.

But she was sure of one thing - her uncle was a master at spoiling people's fun.

Clayton was satisfied with her compromise, and during the free time in the car, he began to think about his plans for after returning home.

There must be errands waiting for him at the Presbyterian Church, but he also had to complete two things. One was moving, and he had to inform each of his correspondents of the new address. Therefore, although this task was simple, it was the most cumbersome to operate.

The second thing is to arrange Donna's life. He wants to investigate the structure and academic style of Xinjiani Women's College before deciding whether to send her to school.

Although he could get some pleasure from his educational work, Clayton knew his own character. If he taught Donna completely according to his ideas, Donna might be happy, but the result would definitely not conform to the society's standards for ladies.

The city is not the countryside. Social etiquette is a must in the middle and upper classes. The underlying tone of the city is civilization.

Des Jorrad also said that he wanted to build a civilized city.

Clayton's thoughts became more and more distracted. Just as he was daydreaming in the carriage, Serani's scream suddenly came from the parallel carriage.

"Stop! Stop! What is that?!"

Hearing the scream, Clayton immediately tensed his body and prepared for a fight. He saw Seranne retracting her head from the car window with a pale face, so he tried to see through the car window what she had seen before, but due to the angle he failed to see what he wanted. Donna also stuck her head out of the right window, but did not retract it.

"What did you see?" Clayton leaned over to the window and asked loudly, making sure that every companion in the other cars could hear his voice.

Serani nervously pointed a finger at a place he couldn't see, and said in a trembling voice: "Corpse, corpse!"

Donna turned her head away from the window, her two thick black eyebrows twisted up and down, her lips pursed tightly, and she struggled to find the words: "The corpse was hung up."

Her reaction didn't seem so urgent, and Clayton relaxed slightly, but gave her a stern look and decided to add a grammar teacher to the plan.

The speed of several carriages gradually slowed down. Several coachmen outside shouted and urged the horses to stop in the open space next to the railway tracks. As soon as they stopped, Clayton immediately opened the door and looked in the direction that Selanne pointed. Julius and Donna also got out of the car to watch.

On both sides of the railway tracks, there were two rows of gallows, with dead bodies densely hung on them, about twenty or thirty in number.

They were stripped down to their underwear, with brown sacks on their heads and thick ropes around their necks hanging them high up. The hands of the dead were tied behind their backs, their clothes were stained with blood, and there was something written in red paint on the wooden board hanging on their chests.

A few black crows landed on their shoulders, chirping and croaking, and when a cold wind blew, the hanged corpses swayed in the wind, scaring the crows away.

Next to the gallows, there were actually many sharpened wooden stakes with various human heads pierced on them. Their eyes were either open or closed, but they were all forever fixed at this moment.

"Are we back to the real world?" Donna asked uncertainly.

This is too barbaric.

Julius also had a strange look on his face, and no one had told him what was happening here. This horrible side was simply a threat to the passengers coming by train.

Clayton approached the gallows and read the words on the wooden board on the chest of the nearest corpse.

"Ambrose, a heinous pagan, was full of malice towards innocent people. He killed three people and was shot."

Next to the body was the following: "Lombard, without sympathy, follower of the devil, killed 5 people and was shot."

Clayton narrowed his eyes. These people did not die from the hemp rope around their necks. Instead, they were hung up after being shot. In other words, the people who hung the bodies here did so for demonstration, and the chopped-off heads were also for the same purpose.

The fact that this can be done openly shows that the government and the military have also contributed.

"Look what I found."

Julius stood in front of a hanging corpse, looked at Clayton, and tapped the tip of the dead man's leather shoe, causing it to shake.

"Christopher Camping Tinora, a scum of the nobility, a lackey of the pagans - he is actually dead. I thought he could escape to another city." The green-haired wizard looked at the guy who once had the chance to become his teacher, and couldn't help smacking his lips. "He was glorious in life, but died like everyone else. Why doesn't his magic work?"

A wizard at the copper ring level was also hung on the gallows wearing only underwear and leather shoes, which shows how high his status was before he was born.

Clayton remembered the name; he was a member of the Doomseekers sect and was hunting down Chud Osmar, unaware of the Red Head's relationship with his fellow officer, Quok.

Besides, he was also the university teacher of Aureli Blanco, a Presbyterian member whom Clayton knew. Clayton looked back with emotion and found that the coachman was indifferent to this and was still smoking leisurely.

These coachmen also work for the Presbyterian Church, so they should know what's going on here.

He asked them, and the driver of the carriage they had just ridden put down his cigarette and raised his chin to the other side of the track. Clayton found that there was a warning sign stuck in the ground there. They walked too far and dropped it.

He crossed the track and walked to the warning sign. He saw a sentence written on it and read it out: "Welcome to Sasha City, but those with evil intentions please think twice."

Typical threats.

"Why is there this brand?" Donna asked.

The coachman cleared his throat and said loudly, "Not long ago, there were gun battles everywhere in the city. Hundreds of people may have died, and even the vault of Dongsen Bank was blown to pieces. However, we finally caught and killed the culprits. We found that they had one thing in common, that is, they were all outsiders. Now they are hung here for other outsiders to see, so that newcomers can know their duties."

The matter has been made clear. This is not the work of criminals, but an act led by various authoritative forces in Sasha City.

This method is a bit retro.

They returned to the car, and Selanne regained some spirit. She felt much better knowing that those bodies were all criminals when they were alive.

Clayton sat down with a heavy heart. For some reason, he always felt that this matter was presided over by Elder Des Jonrad, and this idea was deeply rooted.

The strong old man had the air of a soldier, too, more so than any other officer he had ever met. Considering his age, Des Jorrad had probably been discharged from the army before Clayton was even born.

It was reasonable for the army to do this in the past.

"He also said he wanted to civilize the city, haha." Clayton muttered to himself, his expectations for the rest of his life further dropped.

Ian Lazarus, with dishevelled hair and dirty face, walked on the streets of Sasha City like a homeless man, with no destination and no shelter.

He threw away all his weapons and let the sunlight shine on him, making him weak and painful.

Barbara let him go, but he became even more miserable.

The order from "Mother" made him feel panic of being abandoned, and his past insistence on his human identity made him not know what to do next. His two instincts conflicted with each other. He was hostile to his current identity, but had to live well because of Barbara's order.

In addition to the entanglement of his new identity, he also remembered that he accidentally killed an unidentified passerby during the transformation.

He must atone for his sins.

Walking through the sweet and delicious crowd in the afternoon sun, Ian Lazarus endured hunger and physical and mental anxiety and prayed in a low voice: "Father, if you are still watching me, please let me fall into hell now. I would rather suffer than be confused."

A carriage passed by him, and the people in the carriage happened to hear what he said. They hurriedly asked the driver to stop and leaned out to call him.

"My friend, do you want to go to hell?"

Ian looked back blankly and nodded blankly.

The gentleman in the car looked him up and down, and was very satisfied with his strong body: "Then do you know how to get to hell? I mean, this place is not easy to find."

The vampire, who was on the verge of exhaustion both physically and mentally, shook his head. He really hadn't figured out how to torture himself next.

“Oh, it’s not easy.”

The gentleman in the car sighed and said in a familiar voice, "But I happen to know a place that may meet your requirements."

"That place is where I practice asceticism, but there are a bunch of damned little devils around. They are greedy, have no sense of etiquette, and like to fight with each other. If they are not restrained, they can make the whole city a mess. And no matter how eloquent you are, it is difficult to make them change their evil ways. These devils are also gluttonous and bloodthirsty. If you can't satisfy their desire for flesh and blood, then you will be the next to suffer."

The gentleman paused here, and seeing that Ian did not show any fear but listened attentively, he continued: "This is only during the day. At night, their horror will triple! They will force you to walk through those gloomy alleys, go to the crossroads to meet with ghosts and witches, and even show their terrifying inhuman postures under the moonlight! When you want to sleep after this terrible journey, they will come close to your ears and make devilish sounds that shock your soul. You must endure their atrocities and try your best to appease them before you can get a moment of peace."

At this point, the people in the car sighed.

"To be honest, I am a very devout believer. In my opinion, this kind of treatment is no different from the hell in the book. Perhaps you think so too?"

Ian Lazarus nodded in agreement. This was the hell he had always wanted to go to. He deserved to suffer there!

"Thank you so much, sir. Please tell me the place as soon as possible!"

His attitude was so impatient that the gentleman in the car began to ponder and sigh continuously, which made Ian Lazarus impatient.

"What's the matter, sir? You described this hell to me, but you won't tell me where it is. Why did you stop me in the first place?"

The gentleman in the car looked embarrassed and sighed: "My friend, it's not that I don't want to tell you! But if you want to enter this hell, you still need to go through some tests."

Lazarus was stunned.

"Going to hell still requires a test?!"

"Yeah, you can't just go wherever you want, right?" the gentleman said as a matter of course.

"What kind of test is that?" the vampire asked anxiously while leaning against the carriage.

"Well, if I asked you to make four gallons of vegetable soup, how much salt would you put in it? Or do you know a quick trick for peeling tomatoes?"

"what?!"

Ian Lazarus never expected that the content of the test would be this. He was now weak, his mind was scattered, and he had no experience as a chef. He could not think of the answers to these two questions at all. If he continued like this, he would have no chance to go to hell.

The poor vampire stood there in a daze, hatred for himself flooding his heart once again.

Seeing his appearance, the gentleman in the car was kind-hearted. He opened the door, jumped out and kindly took Ian Lazarus by the hand.

"Well, there's actually no rush. As long as you're willing to follow me, I can slowly teach you and make sure you can pass the test and go to hell smoothly!"

Ian Lazarus gratefully followed him into the car.

The carriage started again, and the aroma of human blood filled his nostrils. As he forced himself to endure it, he suddenly remembered that he had not yet asked the name of his benefactor, so he mentioned this matter.

"Me." The gentleman took off his hat and turned it in his hands. His brown hair was combed sleekly.

"My name is Joe Mani."