The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 374 More Werewolves

Clayton walked slowly into the kitchen, and the man pretending to be the owner of the house finally stopped what he was doing. He did not stand up from the stool, but put the whetstone in his pocket first, then held two sharp daggers up to the candle, and the mirror-like smooth blades reflected Clayton's unsurprised face behind him.

"How did you find out?" he asked.

Clayton scratched his face with his fingernails, leaving a few whiter marks on his pale face. "It looks like someone lives in the house, but the backyard flowerbed and the front steps are overgrown with weeds. Even if they don't plan to use the backyard, people who live here for a long time shouldn't let these things hinder their travel."

"But that can all be explained by laziness. What really made me start to doubt you was that you couldn't find the materials to process the specimens. This quality doesn't match the many specimens on the display shelf. Besides, a lazy person wouldn't like to make specimens. This is a very energy-consuming hobby."

"Besides, your clothes are cleaner than your house. You don't look like someone who will live here for a long time."

"Also, some time ago someone said that I looked like someone from the Conrionai family. You asked me if I was going to visit relatives, which made me suspicious."

He analyzed each point one by one, as if he really wanted the other party to understand his mistakes.

The man in black turned around on the round stool, put his hands holding the two swords on his knees, and nodded politely: "I'll remember it, I'll change it next time."

"Where's the original owner?" Clayton asked. "You knocked over the specimen jar on purpose, didn't you? So that the smell of alcohol and decay could block the smell of blood. I can vaguely smell him now."

He had taken off his sunglasses and did not try to hide the abnormalities of his body.

"Maybe he's dead. The residents of this area have long moved away." The man pretending to be the owner of the house said nonchalantly, "I killed another group of invaders. They illegally occupied private houses. I can't stand people who break the law, so I killed them. What about you? Are you going to Berdalabik to look for someone? Or are you going to visit relatives?"

Clayton nodded affirmatively: "Still looking for someone."

"I don't believe it." The ordinary-looking man narrowed his eyes, and a sense of danger began to grow from him.

"why?"

"If your purpose is so pure, why do you want to expose my identity now?"

"Because we wanted two cleaned beds, and we had them in the house, but if you were the owner here, we would have no reason to kick you out," Clayton said frankly.

The man frowned: "Then why didn't you reveal my identity before?"

"Because I don't want to cook."

Annoying answer, annoying person.

"So are you going to leave or fight us?" Clayton did not forget to ask the other party's choice.

"This is not a multiple-choice question." The man took a deep breath and said, "When I saw you, you were already dead!"

The figure on the stool suddenly disappeared. The huge movement of standing up brought up a gust of wind, which blew out the candle. Only the moonlight from the window shone in. The two short knives in the man's hands, shining with silver light, "swimmed" in the air, like two live fish leaping in the dark river.

Clayton grabbed the frying pan next to him and smashed it at the "fish", no slower than the two knives.

The friction between the tip of the knife and the metal bottom of the pot made a sharp sound, and sparks flew, briefly illuminating the face of the knife holder. His originally mediocre face now looked like a devil, and his flaming eyes reflected the rapidly expanding shapeshifter.

"Who did you kill?" Clayton asked, sweeping out his beastly giant arm.

The werewolf's body finally broke free from the clothes. Its larger body than before was enough to block the kitchen door when it bent down. And when it waved its arms, the narrow space of the kitchen left almost no room for the werewolf to hide.

But the man's body suddenly curled up into a ball, and he barely avoided the attack. However, the cupboard door above his head was smashed, and the plates and bowls inside slipped out, about to hit him heavily on the head and body, interrupting his original counterattack. However, he supported himself with all fours and suddenly lunged forward, crashing into the werewolf's arms, dodging the falling objects while launching an attack.

"You'll see them in a moment." The voice and the feeling of the blade piercing came at the same time.

Unexpectedly, he is not an ordinary thief, but a supernatural killer with secret skills.

The werewolf's body was instantly cut with six bloody wounds, which were not fatal to the large monster. The thief did not seem to be unfamiliar with werewolves, but he still chose to approach.

Is he confident that he can hit the werewolf's vital points, or does he have other means?

Clayton didn't hesitate. He opened his mouth and howled with all his might, while clasping his arms together. However, the enemy was not affected by his hearing. He grinned and slashed with his backhand, cutting the metacarpal bone of Clayton's left claw. Then he twisted his body incredibly and jumped out from the gap between his arms like a puppet hanging on a silk thread.

Clayton had never seen a human being move so fast. When he swung the knife, a silver thread afterimage was left in the air.

If we let him attack, the flesh on the werewolf's chest would be shaved clean off in just three seconds.

His movements were as agile as a ghost, and Clayton couldn't catch him at all.

But the kitchen is too small.

The werewolf crouched slightly with his body sideways, protecting his head with his right arm, and rushed forward like a wall.

The huge body blocked the only exit from the kitchen. Unless it was killed, there was no way the killer would leave.

Realizing the approaching crisis, the nameless killer opened his eyes wide, and the silver trajectory of the dagger in his hand almost formed a net. Every blow could break the werewolf's fur that had been strengthened by the curse, and cut until the bones under the alien muscles were exposed. The spurting werewolf blood was enough for him to take a hot bath, but these efforts could not stop the opponent's advance in any way.

His knife was still too short to penetrate the werewolf's vitals.

When the werewolf's heavy body hit him, all attacks stopped in an instant.

The strong hind legs of the man were pressed against the floor, and the wooden board howled miserably like a human under the pressure of the huge force. Clayton exerted all his strength and crushed the killer's body against the brick wall. After a heavy muffled sound, a sigh came out of the killer's throat. It was the last breath exhaled by the compressed lungs.

It was like a heavy hammer hitting a red-hot iron bar, with the old but still solid wall being the anvil at the bottom.

But Clayton would not lift it up and swing it again, he just leaned on the opponent and continued to exert force, not giving the opponent any room to escape. Even though he could feel the flesh and bones under him breaking and becoming thinner like a tomato being squeezed and juiced, he still did not stop.

Clayton could sense a kind of vitality in the killer's body that allowed him to maintain the strength to fight back despite such injuries.

The human body between the werewolf and the wall squirmed, resisting persistently.

As he lost blood, he began to feel weak. Clayton did not check the condition of his wounds. He concentrated on suppressing the enemy's body until the opponent's vitality was completely dissipated and he fell to the ground due to loss of strength.

The body fell with him, and the gray walls had been painted red.

But victory does not mean the end, the wounds on the werewolf's body are still bleeding.

The thief had used some unknown means to make the werewolf's extraordinary self-healing ability disappear on the wound. The cuts were wriggling, and nearly black blood was gushing out from the cracks. The stored energy and physical strength were rapidly dissipated, and the werewolf was rapidly becoming weak.

Clayton tried to focus his mind to heal them, but failed.

Every second he was more exhausted and hungrier than the last.

As the blood flowed, the power of the curse gradually overwhelmed reason, the yellow animal pupils gradually became turbid, saliva flowed uncontrollably from the black werewolf's sharp teeth, and dripped from the corners of his mouth. The narrow space was filled with the sweet smell of flesh and blood, both its own and the thief's.

The werewolf's eyes couldn't help but be drawn to the corpse of its prey.

The volume of the name "Julius" gradually dropped in Clayton's mouth until the last syllable was swallowed up.

With his last bit of sanity, he realized that calling a wizard over now was useless. If the other party was unable to help, then there might be one less person in the world.

Just let nature take its course.

Before surrendering his body to instinct, Clayton's gradually weakened mind couldn't help but feel regretful.

"I was so careless. I should have used the gun first," he thought.

The next moment when his consciousness fell into darkness, Clayton woke up.

Just like a moment of trance, a blink of an eye, a good sleep, he was filled with strength, all his wounds had healed, and even his stomach felt heavy, as if he had just finished a big meal and the lost energy had been replenished.

The cold gray sunlight from the window shone on his upturned face.

The thief had disappeared, leaving behind only two knives, a little blood and some pieces of clothing.

Clayton felt like a completely different person from the moment before. The regret and frustration he felt before closing his eyes disappeared instantly as his body recovered.

Sure enough, after taking away everything from the caster, the wound curse-like effect also disappeared.

The result was so perfect that he couldn't even remember why he regretted it before.

Without further ado, Clayton used his fingers to comb his wire-like hair, making it look like a successful man. Then he stood up and walked towards his clothes, tidying up his appearance. His eyes naturally slid past the bloodstains on the ground and focused on other things.

When he was done, he called out, "Julius."

Hearing Clayton's voice, the wizard immediately appeared outside the window, but he looked not very well, with bloodshot eyes.

"Are you crazy? You did all this just for a bed?!"

Julius wanted to help, but the struggle in the kitchen lasted less than two minutes. When he arrived, all he saw was a ferocious beast controlled by its wildness feasting on fresh meat. He didn't dare make any sound and quietly left the house.

Naturally, he didn't sleep last night.

He stayed in the wild in fear all night and did not dare to return until the sun rose.

Having not slept well for two consecutive nights, his roar at this moment was more for himself than for the dead man.

"It has nothing to do with the bed. He wanted to attack us anyway, I just made it happen in advance." Clayton said to him through the window: "As for the reason why he wanted to attack, it was because there was a small misunderstanding between him and me, but now the misunderstanding has been resolved."

"Is it about fucking Conrionay again?" Julius asked irritably, for he could think of no other answer.

"Yes. He thinks I look like a relative of the Conriona family. Now I think that this might be true. I have to find time to visit them next time." Clayton adjusted his collar again, as solemnly as if he was going to work. "How are you now? Do you need some time to rest?"

"No." Although Julius was tired, he still refused to do so: "Is the body of that guy still left? I need to check his identity."

He was eager to know the reasons behind the things he encountered along the way.

The damned card, the damned ascetic monk, and now the damned fake landlord who is actually a professional killer. Julius believes that there is a hidden commonality behind these things. If we can understand them clearly, we can take precautions.

The fact that Clayton was injured and lost control showed that this killer was no ordinary character and he might have clues.

However, Clayton only answered Julius with silence.