The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 362 Good Man Clayton

Clayton Bellew was extremely happy to be free of his niece.

He had to admit that being with his family was very intimate, but it also made him feel constrained and cautious. Now he could finally live the way he wanted.

Next to the Singani Girls' College, Clayton rented a small warehouse for Clara to live in, filled it with canned food and books, and asked her to look after Donna when she was free.

After his family left, he could eat out for three meals a day or go to the pub for a few drinks. In his spare time, he also went to Sasha University to teach history classes and enjoy the respectful looks of his students.

The next few days would be the night of the full moon. He could stop taking the medicine provided by the Elders Council and enjoy the pleasure of transformation under the moon, while digesting the huge amount of essence taken from Pan.

He has already advertised Elder Dais’ mission, and all that’s left to do now is to wait.

In this way, all his affairs were arranged, and it was the perfect time to enjoy himself.

But some people were not willing to let him continue to enjoy it.

"If we go on like this, there won't be enough money to spend." Julius made a sound on the account book with his pen.

"Shut up." Clayton squinted and leaned on the recliner, facing the window. He moved the recliner to the living room with a fireplace because it was not only warm here, but also allowed him to enjoy the garden view through the glass bay window. There were cigarettes and wine on the small round table next to it, ready for him to enjoy at any time.

"It's no use trying to shut me up. Our expenses far exceed our income."

"It's just a portion of the revenue. You're not holding the total ledger."

"you do not trust me!"

“I don’t trust anyone who talks big.”

Julius stood up and began to pace uncomfortably between Clayton and the window.

"Are you a grasshopper?" Clayton asked.

Green and active, based on these characteristics, he immediately thought of this creature that liked to jump in the grass.

"I just can't understand why you don't care about making money!" Julius said angrily, "Charlotte is more suitable to be a boss than you!"

Clayton stretched out his leg and pushed him away from the window, kicking him so hard that he staggered.

"What does this have to do with you?"

The wizard stood firm and said confidently: "If even my boss doesn't care about making money, how can I make money? Our interests are now aligned."

Clayton said lazily, "Okay, we, then you might as well give me a few suggestions. But it would be best if it's a way to make quick money. My next trip has already been planned."

"Of course, considering the curse on you and your strong recovery ability, I think you can sell your organs and fur to the Council of Elders. They are both excellent ritual materials, and you can recover in less than two days after peeling off these materials. You only need to consume a little meat."

Clayton sat up straight, roaring for every servant in the house to hear:
"Julius!!!"

If Clayton hadn't told the servants not to disturb his rest at all costs, someone would have come to check on the situation by now.

The wizard shuddered and turned pale: "This is the fastest way to make money."

"I'll give you this skill too. How about you sell your own meat?" Clayton laughed angrily, "Come on, I'll spread the wolf poison to you. As long as you don't die, you'll be a millionaire in the future."

Julius finally seemed to realize that something was wrong, and after thinking about it he came up with a plan.

"Then at least pluck some hair. All materials of werewolves can perfectly replace those of wolves, and the effect may even be better. I know there is a warning amulet that is woven with wolf hair and weasel hair and then pressed under the pillow. If an uninvited guest breaks into the house, the owner will wake up suddenly. However, I saw this amulet method somewhere else, and I am not sure whether it is effective and what the principle is."

"If we buy some weasels for talismans, I think we can make a lot of money,"

"Forget about it. If I spread my hair, what if someone buys it and uses it as material to curse me?" Clayton lay down again. "Isn't using hair to curse others a skill that many wizards know?"

Julius exclaimed, "Please believe me, the harm of the hair curse is actually very low. Most wizards can only make the cursed person develop a rash or go to the toilet more frequently."

“But I didn’t want a rash or having to go to the bathroom so often,” Clayton said.

But if many wizards cursed him with his hair, then this would not be a single-choice question.

Julius's face darkened. He paced back and forth until the sound of his footsteps began to bore Clayton. He then stopped and offered another solution: "Or you may be willing to swallow some broken bones while eating."

Clayton put his hands under his head. "That's fine, but what are you going to do?"

"After being tempered by the werewolf's stomach, the broken bones that are excreted have a certain magical effect. The oral medicine made from breaking them can treat intestinal colic."

Clayton sat up again and looked at Julius as he knew him for the first time.

"How badly do you want money? You are at least a decent person."

"Without money, it's impossible to be decent." Julius said angrily. "Your friend Bruno knows this. Money is the shackles that restrict our thoughts. If a person has no money, even if he is full of knowledge, he will only be called a failure."

Hearing the familiar name, Clayton reminded him with mixed feelings: "Bruno is dead." Julius was stunned and sighed: "That's a pity, but this is foreseeable. The tranquilizers he used were too low quality and too much. Any addictive drug..."

"Akezie killed him."

"Ah? Ah——, oh."

The wizard stopped talking. He frowned and turned to look at the glass window. But it seemed to be due to the angle. He couldn't see the plants in the flowerbed that were growing healthily even in winter. He could only see his own confused expression and the slight anger left on Clayton's face.

After a moment of silence, Clayton threw his itinerary card to him:
"If you want to make money, there is a way. I will go to Wei'aodi in a few days. The road may not be safe. If you are willing to help me, then there may be a chance to make a fortune."

The wizard regained consciousness and showed a look of disgust: "Why did you go to Wei'aodi? It's not that close."

"Two helpers are missing. They work for me. If they die, I have to collect their bodies."

Julius considered.

The straight-line distance between Sasha and Viodi is not far, but it takes four days to travel. Because the train route is not direct, the tracks near the two cities belong to two competing railway companies and are not connected, so passengers must get off the train in the middle and spend more than a day to transfer.

Thieves and robbers often strike at this time.

Long-term travel is unbearable, but so is living without money.

"Okay." He finally agreed.

Dudu, dudu.
The sound of the index finger knocking on the table kept ringing. In the narrow antique shop filled with precious objects on the wall but always filled with a smell of decay, a black-haired, blue-eyed, mustached man stood in front of the counter. He was tall, but the gaps between his facial features were a little tight, and he looked very anxious. He kept knocking on the counter, as if urging the bald shop owner to move the magnifying glass away from his merchandise.

"Don't be impatient," said the shop owner, without looking up.

Stores like theirs are at the bottom of the antique business. Selling fakes is commonplace, and receiving fakes is also a given, so they need to carefully identify and price the goods.

Especially sometimes, thieves who are selling stolen goods will find them, which is a good opportunity to lower the price.

"I'm in a hurry." The customer said this, but he didn't urge the customer anymore. His eyes began to scan the antique ornaments on the wall, as if he was doing the same work as the shop owner.

Time passed minute by minute, and suddenly the doorbell behind me rang, and a young lady who didn't seem to belong to this place walked in.

"Excuse me, please let me pass for a moment," she said to the customer and squeezed to the front of the counter.

The shop owner put down the magnifying glass and sat up straight to face her.

"Miss Charlotte, why are you here? Does Mr. Belleau have any new requests?"

In a business society that follows the principle of big fish eat small fish and small fish eat shrimps, businessmen like Clayton Bello who own fixed estates and properties belong to the big fish in this business, and as a small fish, he cannot help but pay respect to the messengers of the big fish.

"No, Mr. Justin, I just came to confirm." Charlotte said with difficulty. "Did you find those types of goods?"

"It's only been two days, miss." The old shop owner stood up helplessly, walked around the counter and stood in front of Charlotte, blocking the goods that the customer next to him had just delivered with his body.

Miss Charlotte is good in every way, but she is a woman after all and does not understand the rules of business.

These small fish make a living by the difference in price from reselling these small commodities. The things Mr. Bello wanted have actually arrived, but he couldn't let Charlotte find out, otherwise she would be able to trade directly with the customer.

If the big fish take away even such tiny baits, the business here will not be able to continue.

Charlotte nodded disappointedly and prepared to go back.

In fact, Clayton Bellew did not ask her to go out for work, but asked her to send letters to her colleagues. However, something happened recently that made her upset and unable to calm down for a long time. She had to use high-intensity work to vent her stress.

The failure here was actually expected.

But just as she turned around, the black-haired, green-eyed guest suddenly called her.

"Miss, what do you want? Maybe I have it here."

"Sir!" shouted the bald shop owner, who was determined not to let this business slip away.

But the customer narrowed his eyes and looked at him, and there seemed to be some kind of unkindness in his eyes, which made him feel scared: "You haven't paid yet, so what if I show my goods to others?"

"Okay! Okay!" The shop owner compromised and moved away, allowing them to take the things on the counter themselves.

Charlotte walked forward, looked at the items on the counter and compared them with the list in her mind, and indeed found several that met Mr. Clayton Bello's requirements.

"Mr. Justin, you have already received such goods, how could you cheat me?" she complained.

"I haven't finished examining them yet," said the shopkeeper, who could not resist a verbal retort against his treacherous customer: "And they may be stolen goods. I dare not take them until I know for sure where they came from."

The visitor said nothing; he was still looking at Charlotte, but his ears moved with unusual sensitivity.