Werewolf hunting rules

All the way to the destination, Bruno sighed for his exposure again and again.

"No wonder you didn't ask your companion to catch up." After letting Clayton get off the ground first, he also muttered and got off the horse, and each took off the silver star badges on their chests and put them in their pockets.

Having done so, Clayton patted the non-existent dust from his coat, smoothed out the wrinkles, and unhooked the lantern from the saddle.

"That's not why I asked them to leave."

Bruno was immediately interested and said: "Let me guess, it's out of care for your companions?"

The lieutenant immediately denied the inquiry: "Don't use your words in such a disgusting way. This is just a matter of efficiency. They stayed up all night and were exhausted. They can't do anything in this situation. A good soldier is about quality, not quantity."

After saying that, he turned his head and glanced. The hunter's cabin Bruno mentioned was in the forest not far away. He could see the dark roof leaking out from the gaps between the branches and leaves, and the faint red flame behind the window. Light.

Someone was inside, which was why they didn't get closer and dismount.

Ninety yards away, the blades of grass would absorb their sounds like cotton absorbs water, but not any closer.

There is a problem right now.

"I thought the cabin shouldn't be this big." Clayton suggested sincerely.

This house seemed to occupy at least 90 square meters of land. Although it was not large in the city, it was enough to accommodate about twenty people.

Bruno put a long rifle on his back and walked in front.

"This is just a cover. Few people usually care about this. By the way, how many guns did you bring? You should have enough bullets, right?"

"You just thought of asking me now?" Clayton followed. When he heard this, he took out the revolver, checked the bullet chamber, and made sure that there was a bullet in each hole before stuffing it back into his waist. In the holster of the gun: "I only have a revolver, and the bullets in the cylinder are enough for one round."

"Why don't you go ahead? I also want to see the heroic figure of Hero Loren." The detective joked.

"Shut up, you!"

Clayton smiled and cursed, but still walked ahead.

Although I'm sorry to say this, his current image is indeed more suitable for dealing with those criminals.

The tall figure, thick beard, and the scars on his face that were scratched by silverware that have not yet healed all bear witness to the man's violent past and aggressive nature.

He didn't knock on the door, but walked straight in, and took a clear look at the layout of the room the moment he entered.

Five men were sitting on the carpet in the room, two were smoking, two were sleeping, and one was cooking something on the stove, probably their breakfast.

Hanging on the wall were shovels, saws, and an old shotgun that I didn't know if it could still be fired. But having said that, these men may have some weapons on them, which is still worthy of Clayton's vigilance.

The moment he hit the door, they all jumped up and looked nervous.

Clayton whistled at them. His temperament was completely different from what he showed to others on Lemon Street in the past. It was a kind of nonchalance brought by skillful experience. His legs were powerful and steady when he moved, and the gun handle under his clothes was He was looming like a lawless person, which made the group of people nervous.

He blatantly sneered at the excitement of these people, took a big look into the pot, and then shouted out the door: "Albert, don't fucking think about the goods, there is food here." !”

After he shouted, he turned to the chef and grinned: "We are rich, so we don't want your soup in vain."

After saying that, he comfortably found a seat inside and sat down.

The chef nodded numbly.

"The soup is not ready yet, you have to wait a little longer."

Although this scarred man said he wanted to give him money, this style of behavior and temperament cannot be cultivated without the experience of often going to other people's places to eat and drink for free.

In fact, this is indeed the case.

Hearing Clayton's call, Bruno hunched over and ran carefully through the door, holding his hat down the whole time as if he was afraid it would fall off.

"dal-vagoo, hisie ela."

Seeing no familiar face in the room, he said "Yes, sir" in Tallinn, anchoring his character in the impromptu performance.

With such a cowering posture, even with a rifle on his back, he didn't look threatening.

"You idiot, you have to say this in Dornish." Clayton sneered and cursed.

"Okay, boss."

Bruenor stammered, his Dornish skills sounding as good as those of a two-year-old.

If it were not a family business, the smugglers would prefer to use foreigners who did not understand Dornish as their followers. These guys who would not be able to make a living in a foreign country without them could barely be considered loyal.

They want to test the identity of the people here.

If they happen to be passing by here, scare them away so that the subsequent search of the cellar will be undisturbed. If it's a gang member, they'll just do it.

They all sat down, like everyone else.

Clayton stared at the pot, while the detective looked around with feigned curiosity. He noticed that there was fresh, wet dirt on the shovel on the wall. They had exchanged information before, and it was clear that this meant that there was indeed ash in the house. The hat gang came to plant the explosives.

Bruno does have an unclear relationship with the Gray Hats, but not everyone recognizes him.

The recent wave of unemployment has brought a lot of new blood to the gang.

While Bruno was observing the wall, Clayton's peripheral vision caught two men exchanging glances uneasily.

"Two friends, are you conveying love with your eyes?" the lieutenant said directly, making this little gesture public and showing an expression of extreme contempt.

The two people were startled, and the older one coughed a few times: "Of course not, we are just grudges over the previous quarrel and don't want to talk."

The young man also nodded: "That's true."

As soon as they spoke, Clayton recognized that these were the two men the Gray Hat gang had gone to dig a hole for.

But he did not take action immediately because the other three were also suspected.

Standard cans of refined whale oil are very heavy. It is impossible for the two of them to come here with whale oil. It must have been transported here in advance, and maybe someone was sent to guard it.

So he looked at the cook: "Aren't you all in the same group? Why don't you try to persuade them?"

The cook showed an embarrassed expression.

"we are not."

"Forget it, when will the soup be ready?" Clayton interrupted, picking up the spoon that came along and tapping it on the carpet.

The cook took a spoonful from the pot, tasted it, then put the long spoon back into the pot and continued stirring.

"Soon, it won't take a few minutes."

"That's a while." The lieutenant pondered for a moment and said to Bruno: "Albert, you'd better move the goods over first, as much as you can, and don't worry about the carriage whose wheels are stuck in the soil. By the way, Is your cellar still empty?"

Speaking of the second half of the sentence, he looked at the other two people who were doing nothing.

The two people were smoking and were stunned for a moment after being watched. They couldn't remember that they had seen this man before. One of them took out the cigarette from his mouth and replied: "Even ten seals can fit in here."

The other man frowned, but ultimately said nothing.

Clayton breathed a sigh of relief in his heart, and urged: "Albert, hurry up and get to work, don't let your lazy butt stick to the blanket anymore! Remember, you can move as much as you can."

"Dal-vagoo." Bruno responded with fear. He grabbed his hat and stood up. He took a few steps toward the door. Then he seemed to remember that he didn't have his rifle, so he turned back and bent down to pick it up.

After going back and forth like this, everyone lost interest in him and no longer paid attention to his actions.

Bruno staggered towards the door again. As he passed the other people sitting, he suddenly grabbed the barrel of the rifle, rounded his arms and smashed the butt of the rifle on one person's head, knocking him unconscious, and then A forward kick pushed the other person's upper body to the ground, and the next second he pointed the gun at the third person.

Almost at the same time as he started, Clayton also jumped up from the ground. While knocking down one person, he pulled out the revolver with his right hand and pointed it at the chef who was still holding a long spoon.

In less than five seconds, the five people in the cabin were under their control.

"The soup is really not ready yet."

The cook raised his hands in horror, and the spoon fell from his hands.

"Don't worry about it, we'll have soup later." Clayton said with a smile.

Bruno also laughed, and then stepped on a hand trying to touch the gun, causing the latter to scream.