The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 358 A series of trivial matters

The most important festival of the year was celebrated perfectly.

That night, Clayton presented his niece with a sharp dagger, and received in return an unfinished item, which was a script tailor-made for him by Donna. It was a magnificent work that a talented girl like her might take a month to complete.

When they said goodbye to each other before going to bed, Donna asked Clayton again if he could skip school. She whispered to him that she was avoiding school not because she was afraid of studying, but for a very important reason. But when Clayton mentioned it, she said that this reason was protected by a protective spell and she could not bring it up on her own initiative.

"When you become like me, you will understand why I don't want to go to school." She sighed like an old lady.

Clayton looked at the beautiful fifteen-year-old girl, shook his head and rejected her as a matter of course, and decided to record this unsolved mystery of his life in his biography.

The next day, they went to Pero's funeral alone, without Tristana.

Old Perot's body spent his last holiday with his family and looked particularly peaceful lying in the coffin.

Barbara didn't seem to be angry with Clayton. She greeted him warmly, admitted her mistake, and asked her children, big and small, to call him uncle. Donna also became the older sister of these children.

The Presbyterian Church helped Barbara's family solve many life problems, but Clayton found that she still seemed to be worried about something and would lose consciousness from time to time at the funeral.

Julius also attended the funeral. His nose was bandaged, his clothes were full of pockets, and he was holding a birdcage in his hand. His weird hairstyle and style were out of place at the funeral scene.

The pastor who presided over the funeral was a young man. He was dressed in black, with his back straight, and his voice was loud and firm when he prayed for the old man. Clayton couldn't help but think that he might not know the identities of the guests at the funeral, otherwise he wouldn't be so confident.

After Perrault's oldest son laid down the last shovelful of dirt, the children lowered the coffin to the bottom of the pit and then covered it back with dirt.

Afterwards, Perrault's family stayed to mourn while the guests gradually left.

Julius found Clayton and stuffed the birdcage to Clayton, but Clayton returned it.

"She hasn't left yet." The antique dealer told him seriously, and then left with his niece.

What he didn't know was that after he left, Julius stood there desolately for a long time holding the birdcage.

The wizard looked at the birdcage sadly, and the chirping sound came from inside again.

She hasn't left yet.

In the early morning of the second day after the funeral, Cuitis disappeared in the new house of Bello.

She concealed the time of her departure from Donna, and chose to leave when her daughter was asleep, and it was Clayton who sent her to the train station. This was to avoid the sadness of parting.

At 5:30 in the morning, the train was already lying on the track like a giant python, but the steam boiler had not yet boiled. There were only a few people on the platform, mostly railway company employees in gray-brown uniforms. The large clock hands on the load-bearing columns were ticking away, which was disconcerting.

Tristana walked onto the platform dragging her suitcase, and Clayton stood behind her, intending to wait until she got on the train.

If things don't go well, this could be their last meeting.

Tristana took a few steps toward the train and turned back to look at Clayton.

For a moment he thought she was going to change her mind and stay, but she didn't, she just asked him a question.

"Clayton, do you still have Uren in your heart?"

This question is simply incomprehensible.

But Clayton still replied: "I always have him in my heart."

He remembers every family member in his heart.

But Cuitis shook her head expressionlessly: "You don't look like you have a Ulen in your heart, but rather a Ulen in your stomach."

After saying that, she turned and walked into the belly of the steam python, leaving Clayton standing there in shock.

It wasn't until he reached the doorstep that he realized that Tritis had told a joke about his swelling stature.

"What a bastard!" He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Donna had already gotten up by now. Clayton waited in the dining room to tell her that Tristana had left. She cried for a while, but after breakfast she was happy again as if nothing had happened, and went to class with the tutor.

Clayton likes this kind of personality. For people like her, there is no such thing as a "broken heart" in the way they die.

Judging from the time, it’s time for him to find his own happiness.

Just when he was about to go out again and get drunk in the pub, someone suddenly came to visit him.

"Mr. Bello, there are some things I need you to take care of, regarding Gervais."

The stranger looked sneaky, was armed, and spoke from a distance, so Clayton almost shot him, but fortunately he proved in time that he belonged to the Presbyterian Church.

"Are you afraid of me?" Clayton asked.

The Presbyterian messenger denied it hesitantly, but refused to ride in the same carriage with him.

Fifteen minutes later, their carriage stopped at a Presbyterian stronghold and the messenger led him in.

This place is a very large warehouse, with many empty bottles of Senweit beer packed in boxes, stacked up layer by layer to form many impenetrable walls. In the open space in the center of the maze of high walls formed by these boxes is where the dark descendants, church members, and government employees gather.

A dozen people were standing scattered around, and you could tell which faction they belonged to just by looking at their clothes.

The lower-level clergy of the church wore black and white clothes according to the doctrine, government employees only wore formal dresses, and there were only two of them, while the Presbyterians wore loose coats to cover up the signs of being different from the church.

There were no chairs here, and the only person sitting was Chud Osmar, who had his hands tied behind his back and was sitting on a pile of wooden boxes, breathing weakly, with blood flowing from his chestnut temples.

A government employee looked down at Osmar and said, "He dares to make demands on us."

"That man is coming," his companion reminded him.

Clayton walked closer under the gaze of these people, and his black coat blended in well with the other members of the Presbyterian Church. "Is this Mr. Bello?" The government employee took the lead and stepped forward to shake his hand. "In fact, we have almost got everything from the prisoner, but there are some things he is unwilling to reveal. He insisted on seeing you first before he could speak."

He loosened his hand and took a book from the box next to him: "Please take a look at this testimony record. If it is true, please sign your name below."

Clayton's pupils slid from left to right in his eye sockets. He did not see the figure of Reverend Louis, and the other Presbyterian members did not show any abnormality. So he lowered his head to look at the testimony record, wrote down his name after confirming that it was correct, and returned the book to the government clerk.

The government official nodded with satisfaction, tucked the notebook under his arm, and looked at Osmar again.

"Now is the time for you to speak up, right? Where did you get that deed? It was taken back by the previous king a long time ago and is state-owned property. And you shouldn't have it in your hands."

The red-headed man slowly raised his head, his cracked lips curled up, revealing a hideous smile to the interrogator. Blood had already covered his gums, and it seemed that he had not had a good time recently.

"A nice guy gave it to me, he was wearing the same clothes as you"

The Presbyterians laughed, while the church members glared at the government officials.

However, the employee seemed to have gotten used to this kind of look. He just sighed, "Ah - our good colleague", and then continued to wait for Osmar to spit out more information.

"Name, I want a name."

“This is the second request.”

Osmar's answer was obviously not satisfactory, so the clerk kicked him hard in the abdomen. He began to vomit blood and his eyes rolled up. The priest next to him immediately rushed over to treat him with medicine and miracles.

When the healing was completed, the priest looked at the clerk solemnly.

"I don't recommend torturing him any further. His health is already very poor."

"Great." The clerk said to Osmar, "Did you hear that? Tell me what you want. If I'm free later, I can even bring you a pacifier."

The red-headed man who had just woken up looked at Clayton with a meaningful look in his eyes: "I want to talk to Clayton Bello alone."

Now everyone was looking at Clayton.

The werewolf frowned, "I don't think I have anything to discuss with you."

"That's true, but they'll make you agree to talk to me." Chud Osmar coughed up blood and glanced at the government staff. "Now you need me."

The government employee's face looked grim.

The loss of the land deed is not a trivial matter, even though the land was just a useless swamp, but when it comes to the embezzlement of state-owned assets, there is no trivial matter.

"Hold on," he told Clayton, and then he and the others left the clearing.

Clayton's ears moved. Those people had not gone far at all. They had only taken a few steps and were now standing behind a high wall made of empty boxes, listening to the conversation here.

He spoke to Osmar, "I'm curious about what you are going to do. Our hatred seems to be greater than that of others."

"I don't care about those. All I want to say to you is just a common request - please collect the bodies for Quoke." Osmar was interrupted by Clayton before he finished speaking.

"I think you know very well that he has no body. This is your own doing."

"Then bury him in the clothes he was last wearing, cremate him, and place his ashes in an altar."

This is the burial method of saints, but it is not a difficult task.

"that's it?"

"That's it, but they still won't satisfy me." Osmar said calmly: "In fact, I mentioned this to them before, but the clergy did not agree to this exchange because they thought it was a heretical act and could not be compromised. A group of unbelievers and even the Darkborn actually agreed with them. But I believe you don't care about this."

Clayton couldn't help laughing. "I don't care, but what's wrong with you? Are you feeling guilty now that you're about to die?"

He had just read the testimony. It turned out that the evil deeds in Revo were all planned by Osmar alone. Quoke from the Doomsday Seekers sect actually stopped Osmar's evil deeds several times. Although they finally came together, it was ridiculous that this situation happened.

The red-headed man shook his head and licked the blood from his lips. "I do regret this, but this is what I would have done if I had succeeded. My thoughts have never changed. If you were in the same situation as me, you would understand my motives."

Clayton laughed even more happily. He began to think that this place was a better place for fun than the tavern.

"In the same situation? You mean you have the power to change your luck and still mess it up? I really can't do that."

His words angered Osmar, and the red-headed man stared at his face sinisterly.

"You have to agree to my request, then I will agree to the requests of those humans. If they can't get what they want, they will come to you."

"All right," Clayton said nonchalantly.

"Swear on your name."

The power of a name is sacred and solemn. There have always been rumors among the people that violating an oath sworn by a name may lead to misfortune. Even if it is out of honor, Clayton hates the act of breaking the oath after swearing by a name, but he had no intention of breaking the oath, and Osmar's obsession was not difficult for him.

He was a dealer in curios and antiques, with a private collection of altars in his warehouse, and he could fulfill his promise if he could get Quoke's clothes.

Only after hearing Clayton's oath did Chud Osmar feel at ease.

"How refreshing! If I didn't need you to be a sacrifice, maybe we could communicate in a friendly way and you would agree with my approach."

Clayton scoffed at his statement, but he continued talking.

"Tell me, Clayton Bello, do you honor your ancestors?"

"which one?"

Clayton's question stunned Osmar.

"Among my ancestors there are both poor slaves and vicious slave owners; there are both high-ranking nobles and fugitives hiding their heads and tails. The blood of nobles and despicable people coexists in my veins. Which one of them are you asking about?"