Werewolf hunting rules

The soldier named Barron led the sheriffs listlessly into the passage down the mine.

His depression had nothing to do with the fact that he had just participated in a killing, it was just that he could not participate in the activities of his companions.

Clayton has seen too many people like this, among which the infantrymen are the most serious.

These poor people who can only walk on two legs and dance face to face with death will eventually alienate under the pressure.

He had seen an infantryman trying to peel off the skin of a dead body to make boots for no other reason than to be curious about the plasticity of human skin, and the materials that could be used for testing were all over the ground.

Fear and the experience of killing people again and again and breaking through the peak of sin turned the initially glorious young man into a devil.

Clayton felt sorry for them.

He was only one step away from that state until Uren's death brought him back.

When a person's spirit breaks away from reality, he can truly understand the whole picture of himself.

As they went deeper into the cave, the smell of blood became stronger.

They saw some dead people on the way.

The killing had not ended long ago, and hot blood was flowing from the bullet holes and knife marks on the corpses.

The coat on the body had been stripped off, and the blood soaked the underwear.

They all had their mouths open, as if they were shouting at the top of their lungs, and their eyes were staring at the stranger in front of them.

But Clayton knew that this phenomenon was not the reason they were shouting during their lifetimes, but that soldiers would pull out the dead people's good teeth and sell them to dentists to make dentures, so they would open the corpse's mouth. Now if you lift their lips, you will most likely be able to see their bare gums.

Although teeth are not worth much, they weigh nothing and do not take up space.

He poked his head slightly and found that there were only a few empty spaces in these mouths. It seemed that the cultural atmosphere of Sasha City still allowed these bastards to develop civilized habits. They only removed the false teeth that were inlaid with gold and silver, leaving none of the real teeth.

However, this phenomenon also shows that the soldiers under Major Doron have rich battlefield experience and have fought in the colonies for a long time, otherwise they would not develop such a habit.

Barron squatted forward with interest to inspect the body, then stood up again and spat disdainfully.

"Fuck! So clean!"

"Actually, all we need is a map of the mine." Mary frowned and said, she didn't want to see these people for a moment.

Her repulsive remarks were met with a grateful response from the soldier.

Clayton couldn't let her do it: "No, I think we still need a soldier to help deliver Major Doron's orders, otherwise we will risk being attacked by other wandering soldiers."

"makes sense."

Barron's face returned to its initial despondency.

Although the mine is complex, it is well organized by the former residents.

Some areas are used for living, some are used for storage, and some serve as halls or specialized aisles.

The functional areas of this underground space are arranged exquisitely, even for ancient cave dwarves. Clayton has never seen the abilities of cave dwarves, so he just guessed at it.

When they came to a space that was extremely spacious and extended in all directions, they found that there were also a lot of corpses here. Blood and overturned debris were poured all over the floor. Soldiers were retrieving valuable objects here.

There are many miserable faces, sad bodies and silent hearts.

The dead bodies were piled up in this dark hall, soaked in plasma, with their hands and feet pressed down, as if they were about to crawl at any time.

Seeing such a scene, Barbara also turned her head in fear.

Volentin's condition has always been worse than death, but it doesn't matter. Mary is praying in a low voice. She may not be very religious and has killed people, but such a scene is still powerful for people who have lived in the city for a long time. impact.

Clayton remained silent. He had nothing to say.

Some soldiers were squatting in the blood and groping for corpses. Their arrival made these murderers look up and even take out weapons. However, Barron's presence and the command from Major Dolon immediately made these soldiers whose hands and faces were stained with blood. Lost interest.

"This is the mine's storage room,"

Barron introduced them to them with a simple map: "However, the things you want are indeed not seen here. When we came, although it was not what it is now, most of the goods were still the same, and no one would move them. Whale oil stuff.”

Clayton and others scanned it several times and found no trace of whale oil here.

He absolutely believed what Barron said. The soldiers here could not have taken the refined whale oil. A barrel of whale oil weighed about 7 kilograms. Unless the army was short of even this little whale oil, it would be just a waste of effort to bring such trophies. Waste of time and energy.

While they were still observing here, Barron went to say a few words among the looters and took back another strange oil lamp.

Clayton walked over to him pretending to be nonchalant.

"Are you responsible for taking these lights away?"

The soldier looked at him suspiciously: "That's right."

"How many lamps like this do you have here?"

"Why should I tell you this?" Barron asked warily. He did not have a good impression of this tall man with scars on his face.

Creighton needs to correct this fact: "I'm actually not interested in specific numbers. We would feel uncomfortable being followed all the time. We might as well reach a consensus and you tell us where the other teams with lights went." , and in what order do you plan to collect the lanterns, write down this information on the map, and then give us the map, so we don’t need you to follow."

If he didn't have to follow these sheriffs, Barron could collect the loot while there was still some time.

He thought for a moment, then sincerely opened his eyes: "Thank you, your suggestion is really good."

Clayton returned the look with a kind smile.

The lieutenant returned to his men and exchanged a few words with them in a low voice, instructing them to search near the current tunnel first, whether to find whale oil or the body of a certain detective (he described the image of Bruno) Everyone must report to him immediately. If nothing is found, return here and wait for his next instruction.

This was not an order that was difficult to execute, and everyone in the Presbyterian Church took action individually.

Clayton and Mary walked into a tunnel.

This woman cannot be allowed to work alone. If Bruno happens to die in the area she is responsible for, they will not be able to receive this information.

The female sheriff looked sideways at the new scars on Clayton's face, thoughtfully.

Away from the soldiers, Marietta was finally able to ask questions.

"Why did you send that soldier away again?" She remembered that Clayton refused to let Barron leave at first.

"It's nothing, I just found that no one is ready to be honest."

"Everyone? Including who?"

"Everyone." Clayton knelt down and turned a lying body over.

The body shape of this body really resembled Bruno.

Although the detective and the lieutenant were not close friends, Clayton would still feel regretful if he died.

In this day and age, such responsible men are increasingly rare.

"Clayton, come here and take a look at this body." Mary greeted from behind Clayton.

He stood up and turned around, seeing an unexpected presence.

"Sanders, why is he here?"

Clayton looked at the corpse that was half the size of an ordinary person in surprise. He did not expect that the dwarf also died here. Not long ago, the other party said that if he went to jail, he would go to help pay the fee. That temper was unforgettable for him. .

"Bruno's people may he rest in peace."

After learning the name of the body, Mary sighed.

"Well, this at least shows that our work is in the right direction. Maybe we can find some clues on him."

She looked at the corpse and couldn't speak anymore.

The soldiers cleaned the battlefield from the outside to the inside. This place had been swept around. There was almost nothing left on Sanders's body. He was the same as the corpses he had seen before, with only thin underwear left on him. Not a single pocket.

She turned around and saw Clayton looking at a corpse next to him in trance, looking absent-minded.

"Clayton, what are you looking at?"

Clayton looked away with a gloomy expression: "I saw another acquaintance."

Mary lowered her voice subconsciously: "My condolences."

"Mr. Stepan, he was once a competitor of my antique shop." Clayton breathed heavily: "I am more surprised that he appears here than Sanders."

This corpse was that of an old man, about fifty years old. His silver, semi-long hair was combed back smoothly, and there were not too many wrinkles on his face. The clothes she wears are not fashionable, but they are decent. Perhaps because he was holding on to a small bottle in his hand and unable to take off his sleeves, he became one of the few corpses that retained his coat and clothes.

At this moment, due to the rough treatment by the raiders, his facial expression was distorted, and he was looking at Clayton with a half-smile.

All antique dealers are assholes, the only difference between them is between big assholes and little assholes.

Take him as an example. If someone now sends him to jail for half a year for smuggling and selling counterfeit goods, he will definitely have no complaints and may even write down an entry in his diary before going to jail - "Justice has been done."

Mr. Stepan is a bit more than a jerk, and he's notorious for disrupting the market with massive fakes, almost affecting his counterparts in the next city.

But his death here is absolutely an unreasonable disaster.

Antique dealers who want to make fakes usually have local channels and do not need to go to the black market to purchase goods.

Mr. Stepan's visit to the black market in the mine can only mean one thing - what he bought this time is the real thing.

"He is a good taxpayer. He may not have fulfilled his duties as a citizen, but he has never cheated the poor of a penny."

Clayton struggled to enunciate.

After a brief condolence, he remained silent for longer this time.

"Mary, I'm going back. It may take a while. If others have completed their search, tell them to wait here."

"I see."