Werewolf hunting rules

Clayton slowly walked into the kitchen. The man pretending to be the owner of the house finally stopped what he was doing. Instead of getting up on the stool, he first put the whetstone in his pocket, and then held two sharp daggers. Shining it against the candle, the mirror-smooth blade reflected Clayton's unsurprised face behind him.

"How did you find out?" he asked.

Clayton scratched his face with his nails, leaving a few whiter marks on his pale face: "The house looks like someone is living in it, but the backyard garden and the front steps are covered with weeds. Even if you don't plan to "Use the backyard and people who live here for a long time should not let these things hinder their travel."

"But that can all be explained by laziness. What really makes me doubt you is that you can't find the materials to process specimens. This kind of quality does not match the so many specimens on the exhibition rack, and it is impossible for a lazy person to do so. I like making specimens, it’s a very energy-consuming hobby.”

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

"Also, someone said not long ago that I resemble the Conglione family. You asked me if I was going to visit relatives, which made me suspicious."

He analyzed it point by point, and seemed to really want the other party to understand his mistakes.

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

"Where is the original owner?" Clayton asked: "You knocked over the specimen jar on purpose - in order to let the smell of alcohol and decay block the smell of blood. I can vaguely smell a little bit of him now. "

He had already taken off his sunglasses, making no effort to conceal his physical abnormalities.

"Maybe they are dead. The residents in this area have moved away long ago." The man pretending to be the owner of the house said nonchalantly: "I killed another group of intruders who illegally occupied private houses. I am the most respected person." I don't like people who break the law, so I kill them. Are you going to find someone in Boda Labick?"

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 in him.

"Why?"

"If your purpose is so simple, why are you here to expose my identity now?"

"Because we want two clean beds, which we have in the house, but if you are the owner here, we have no reason to kick you out." Clayton said frankly.

The man raised his eyebrows: "Then why didn't you reveal my identity before?"

"Because I don't want to cook."

Annoying answers, irritating people.

"So are you going to leave or fight with 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 see you, you are already dead!"

The figure on the stool suddenly disappeared. The huge movement of getting up brought up a gust of wind and blew out the lighting candle. Only the moonlight from the window came in, and the two silver daggers in the man's hands "swimmed" in the air. "It stood up like two live fish leaping in the dark river water.

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

The tip of the knife rubbed against the metal bottom of the pot, making a sharp sharp sound, and sparks burst out, briefly illuminating the face of the knife holder. The originally mediocre face now looked like a devil, with his eyes burning with flames. Reflecting the shapeshifter's body that is rapidly expanding.

"Who did you kill?" Clayton asked, sweeping out his giant arm that had transformed into a beast.

The werewolf's body finally broke free from the clothes. The body that was bigger than before was enough to bend down and block the door of the kitchen. When it waved its arms, the small space of the kitchen gave the opponent almost no room to hide.

But the man's body suddenly curled up into a ball, and he managed to escape the attack. However, the door of the cupboard above his head was smashed, and the plates and dishes inside slipped out, and were about to hit his head and body heavily. His original counterattack stance was interrupted, but he lunged forward on all fours, crashed into the werewolf's arms, and launched an attack while dodging the falling objects.

"You'll see them soon." The voice came out at the same time as the feeling of the blade piercing.

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

The werewolf's body was cut with six bloody wounds in an instant, which were not fatal injuries to a 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 vitals, or does he have other means?

Clayton did not hesitate, opened his mouth and roared with all his strength, and at the same time folded his arms to hug him, but the enemy was not affected by hearing. He smiled evilly and slashed with his backhand, cutting the metacarpal bone of Clayton's left paw open, and then twisted his body in an incredible way. , leaping out from between the arms like a puppet hanging on a silk thread.

Clayton had never seen a human being move so fast. When he swung his sword, there was simply a silver thread left in the air.

If he was allowed to attack, the flesh on the werewolf's chest would be picked clean in just three seconds.

And 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 sideways, protecting his head with his right arm, as if he was rushing against a wall.

That huge body blocked the only way out of the kitchen. Unless he killed it, there was no way the killer could leave.

Realizing that the crisis was approaching, the unknown killer opened his eyes wide, and the silver trajectory of the short knife in his hand almost formed a net. Each knife could break through the cursed reinforced fur of the werewolf and cut into the alien muscles. The white bones appeared, and the werewolf blood spurted out was enough for him to take a hot bath, but these efforts could not stop the opponent's progress in any case.

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 limbs with reverse joints pressed against the floor, and the wooden board let out a miserable howl 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, the killer's A sigh came from his throat.

It was the last breath exhaled as the lungs were squeezed.

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

But Clayton would not lift it up and swing it down again. He would just rely on the opponent's body to continue exerting force, without giving the opponent any room to escape. Even though he could feel the flesh and bones beneath him shattering and becoming as thin as a squeezed tomato, he still didn't stop.

Clayton could feel a kind of vitality in the killer's body, allowing him to maintain the strength to resist despite such a degree of injury.

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

With the loss of blood, a feeling of weakness came from his body. Clayton did not look at the state of the wound. He suppressed the enemy's body wholeheartedly until the opponent's vitality completely dissipated, and he fell to the ground due to loss of strength.

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

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

The thief didn't know what method he used to make the werewolf's extraordinary self-healing power disappear from the wounds. The blades squirmed, and nearly black blood gurgled out from the cracks. The stored energy and physical strength were quickly dissipated, and the werewolf was quickly becoming weak.

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

Every second he was feeling more exhausted and hornier than the last.

As the blood flows, the power of the curse gradually overwhelms reason, and the yellow beast eyes gradually become turbid. Saliva pours out uncontrollably from between the black werewolf's sharp teeth, dripping from the corners of his mouth, and the narrow space is filled with sweet flesh and blood. Smell, both its own and that of thieves.

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

The volume of the name "Juliel" rose from high to low in Clayton's mouth until the last syllable was swallowed up.

His last rational thought was to realize that calling the wizard over at this time was of no use. If the other party couldn't do anything, then there might be one less person in the world.

Just let nature take its course.

Before handing over his body to instinct, Clayton's gradually diluted mind couldn't help but feel regret.

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

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

Like a loss of consciousness, a blink of an eye, a good sleep, his whole body was full of strength, and all the wounds had healed. Even his stomach became 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 only two knives, a little blood and some pieces of clothing on the ground.

Clayton felt that he was completely different from the person he was at the last moment. The regret and frustration he felt before closing his eyes disappeared instantly as his body recovered to be intact.

Sure enough, everything that belonged to the caster was taken away, and the effect similar to a wound curse also disappeared.

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

No longer entangled, Clayton combed his wire-like hair with his fingers to make it look like a successful person. Then he stood up and walked towards his clothes to tidy up his appearance. His eyes looked naturally at the blood stains on the ground. The ground slides by, focusing on other things.

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

Hearing Clayton's voice, the wizard immediately appeared outside the window, but he looked not in good spirits and his eyes were bloodshot.

"Are you crazy? Are you doing this just for a bed?!"

Julius originally 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 wildness, feasting on fresh meat. He did not dare to say anything. There was no sound and he quietly left the house.

Of course, he didn't sleep last night.

He spent the whole night in fear in the wild, and did not dare to come back until the sun rose.

He had not slept well for two consecutive nights. His roar at the moment was not so much for the dead man as for himself.

"It has nothing to do with the bed. He originally wanted to do something to us, but I just made it happen in advance." Clayton said to him through the window: "As for the reason why he wanted to do something, it was because of me and him. There was a little misunderstanding, but it has been resolved now.”

"It has something to do with fucking Conlione again?" Julius asked irritably. He couldn't think of any other answer.

"Yes. He thought I looked like a relative of the Conriona family. Now I think that maybe it's true. I have to find time to visit them next time." Clayton adjusted his collar again, as solemn 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 damn card, the damn ascetic, and now the damn fake landlord who is actually a professional killer. Julius believes that there is a hidden commonality behind these things. If you can understand it clearly, you can take precautions later.

The fact that Clayton was injured and lost control shows that this killer is not an ordinary character, and there may be clues on him.

However, Clayton only answered Julius with silence.