The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 396 Lost in Wei'aodi
Clayton Bello had to admit that he had always been unlucky, and the happy time he spent reuniting with his family was the small exception in his life.

Take what happened not long ago, for example. He just wanted to anchor in a secluded place and take a nap on the boat before getting up to do work. However, a large aquatic animal suddenly slammed into the bottom of the boat from the water and directly damaged the motor.

A fucking, damned, cursed fish, maybe a darkspawn, or there's no way to explain why it's so big. It rammed the boat with its hard, bird-like beak, found it wasn't as soft and juicy as it had imagined, and left, leaving Clayton on this isolated island in the water, not knowing where to go.

The boat left its original position due to the previous collision and drifted quietly with the current. Clayton was like the governor of a deserted island, controlling everything but to no avail.

So he decided to eat first.

After eating seven cans of whale meat stored on the ship in one go, he regained some strength, better than when he robbed the ship, although he still had a headache and fever, felt extremely thirsty, and his joints seemed to be rusty.

The condition did not recover as his strength improved, but instead got worse.

Later, he found a better-fitting set of clothes, a shotgun and ammunition, and some change from the body, enough for him to buy more supplies and tickets.

He exerted force with his arms to tear open the empty cans, twisted the tin sheets together with his bare hands to form a large piece, and then used this piece as a paddle to paddle the water and row the boat.

A bit slow, but OK.

As long as he could get on the next train, he would be safe.

The train tickets need to be booked early, as the train does not leave in the evening. There is not enough time today and he has to hold on for the whole night. This is a good time for him to do something to attract the attention of the Black Claw Clan, so that they will not go looking for trouble with the boy before.

A liner was approaching on the water, and the crew on it looked at Clayton's strange behavior and asked him if he needed help, but he refused.

The leisurely mood of the boat ride was soon broken.

Behind Clayton, he heard the sound of a speedboat breaking through the waves, the distinctive hum of an electric engine approaching, and someone shouted to greet him. He turned around and found that it was another speedboat of the Conleone family, with only two of Lind's men on board. They were also surprised to see that only Clayton Bello was on their companion's boat.

"Who are you? Where are the others?"

Clayton put down his hands on the steering wheel, flipped backwards from the driving seat and jumped onto the stern, picking up the shotgun in his hand. He turned around and aimed at the ship approaching from behind. The ups and downs of the hull caused by the violent movement did not affect him much. His gun was steady, pointing at the new boat driver.

"Bring the boat over slowly!"

There was a liner approaching in the distance, but Clayton didn't care about being seen. He was now dishevelled and wearing dirty clothes stained with blood. Who would associate him with the former respectable businessman Clayton Bello?

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" The two crew members did not dare to disobey his order and really drove the boat over.

The ship could not move backwards in the water, so if it wanted to turn back it could only turn the angle of the bow and make the boat make half a circle in the water. The time to turn the bow was enough for Clayton to aim and fire.

As the boats approached, Clayton noticed that none of them were armed, which might be why they were so obedient.

But this also made him feel strange. The ship he was on was originally full of armed personnel. Why was there no weapon on the ship in front of him?

Lind gave them different tasks?

When the ship came alongside, Clayton asked them to raise their hands again.

The crew on the ship were all young men. They looked different from the Konglione family and were thinner. They were probably just peripheral members who were not responsible for fighting. Looking at their young faces and frightened expressions, Clayton's index finger was still on the trigger, but he suddenly didn't want to press it.

Maybe he should kill them. The Black Claws had done him a great disservice. Even if they were unarmed and unprepared for battle, he should kill them.

And he has killed so many people, it is too late to show sympathy now.
But he just felt a feeling of fatigue surging from his bones. It came along with the disease, and at first it just made him feel weak all over. As Clayton absorbed some of the power and curse through the syringe, it occupied more ground and made him lose his appetite. As the disease worsened, it now suppressed some of the call of the wolf blood, making Clayton feel the clarity that was not affected by the curse for the first time in a long time.

At this moment, the bloodthirsty thoughts that had been haunting him suddenly subsided.

It was not a feeling of depression or loss, but rather something real and more solid was growing inside him. He couldn't put it into words, but he could feel it.

Looking at the two crew members, Clayton's Adam's apple rolled up and down, and finally the muzzle of the gun swung.

"Come over here."

Under his coercion, the two young men hurriedly crossed the gap between the two boats and climbed onto the broken boat he was standing on.

When Clayton saw them all coming up, he took a step forward and boarded the good ship himself.

The sound of the motor started again, and he drove the new boat forward, leaving the original broken boat behind. The two crew members took his place on the "lonely island", and they didn't even have tools to use as oars. They could only sit in the boat in confusion, watching the small boat under them spinning with the current.

"That's it, those werewolves will find them, and then they'll know I'm alive and where I'm going." Clayton said to himself.

The boat moved forward quietly, cutting through the black ice-like water, moving forward. The iron-gray city scenery on both sides was endless, and no matter when or from which angle you looked, it seemed that the dense forest of chimneys like tall towers would always be there, and the black smoke rising straight into the sky connected to the water surface, giving people the illusion of standing still in the dark night, and time was therefore suspended.

But some things are not illusions.

Some larger ships were coming towards them, and Clayton saw that most of the crew members on them looked uneasy, and some were vomiting while holding onto the railings.

Clayton originally planned to go to the nearest dock to moor the boat, but when he arrived, he saw a fight taking place on the shore.

The vivid images woke up the whole world.

There were two groups of people in total, one group seemed to be locals, and the other group was foreign workers called Yankees. There were probably about a hundred of them in total. They were fighting in a group and had left several bodies at the dock.

They were dressed simply and their weapons were also simple. Short knives for cutting knotted hemp ropes, crowbars for opening boxes, and hammers for hammering nails were all their handy tools.

This kind of thing was quite rare, but Clayton had seen the public security in Wei Aodi in the past few days, so he was not surprised.

These workers and gang members had been fighting here for a while. Clayton didn't hear anyone shouting any slogans or a clear purpose for the fight. They just roared and shouted randomly, trying their best to swing their weapons at their opponents' heads, splashing blood and smashing flesh into mud.

Broken limbs, internal organs and blood were all over the ground.

Their blood flowed along the ground and when it fell into the river, it was immediately covered by the deeper darkness.

In the brief moment that Clayton stopped, three people had already fallen down due to injuries. Their powerless bodies were kicked and trampled by their companions and enemies at the same time, and finally disappeared in the crowd.

Many open cargo boxes were scattered on the ground. While the workers were fighting, others were sneaking down and taking away the unloaded goods during the chaos.

Some fixed mechanical cranes at the dock were still running, but they were not working. The operators simply turned them around and used the swinging iron hooks to intimidate the armed thugs who dared to approach, hoping to save their own lives in this riot.

Compared to the blood shed here, the blood shed last night in the Conleone family castle seemed insignificant.

Because of this collective violence, the dock was in chaos. Some ships may have intended to unload here, but after seeing what happened on the dock, they could not continue working. They could only park their ships farther away and watch the development of the incident from afar, waiting for the maintainers of order to arrive or for the fight to end naturally.

The boats fell into the river like so many dead fish turned upside down.

Clayton felt the same as they did. He didn't know why the workers on the dock were fighting, and he had no intention of getting involved in such a dangerous incident. So he started the boat again, intending to pass through the ships gathering in front and go ashore at the dock in the next area, but before leaving, he couldn't help but look back.

There were a few exceptionally agile figures hidden in the rioting crowd. They were wearing the same clothes as the workers, and ordinary people could hardly tell the difference between them at a glance. Only people with similar skills could quickly discover their abnormality.

No matter how chaotic things get around them, these few people can always stay out of it, and they sometimes even glance at each other.

Clayton didn't think deeply about it. With the wolf blood settling, ordinary fights could not arouse his interest now, and the occasional questions were quickly thrown behind him. He calmly passed through the area, but because there were too many ships blocking the way ahead, it took more time than he expected.

He arrived at the next dock, where business functions were still running smoothly, but the ships passing by still brought news of the riots ahead. People here would occasionally cast uneasy eyes in the direction where Clayton came from, as they were worried that what happened there would affect their work.

Clayton got off the boat and had not walked far when he saw a team of police officers rushing to the scene of the riot. Sheriff Albert, who had helped him before, was at the front of the team.

"Albert." He subconsciously called out to the other party, hoping to get a little more help from this dedicated police officer.

Albert stopped and looked back at him, but did not recognize the man who had crossed paths with him two days ago and even pointed a gun at him.

"Sir, don't come any closer, we are just taking care of business."

Clayton sighed. He looked completely different from two days ago, so it was normal that Albert didn't recognize him. And he was carrying a shotgun now, looking less like a good citizen and more like a professional gunman hired by the rich.

In Weioudi, the requirements for applying for a gun license are much more relaxed than in Sasha City, so the number of dangerous elements is naturally very high.

He raised his left hand and pushed back the hair hanging in front of his forehead, revealing his entire face.

"Sheriff, we met two days ago."

Albert stared at his face, his eyes gradually widening.

"It's you!" He finally remembered Clayton, "Why are you like this? Were you robbed?"

Clayton hummed grimly, and the feeling of shame came belatedly at the moment he admitted it.

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