Werewolf hunting rules

Julius was captured.

This happened again. He was too lazy to get angry.

The werewolf captain was much worse than Clayton Bellow, and he might not have as much combat experience as he did. Smart people could see that they could win even if they pushed the two crazy wizards of the Key Group into the water. And this werewolf was just pierced in the abdomen, and he began to retreat instinctively with his tail between his legs. He never thought that he could turn the situation around by taking two more steps forward.

So when this guy's skull and brain, which had turned into white wax, were melted by the fierce fire, he should have nothing to complain about.

Since the situation was unfavorable, Julius could only forget the conflict just now. As these crazy wizards left on the speedboat, the damaged cargo ship behind them slowly sank due to water inflow.

When he finally got on the ship, all the seats were full, and he found this very disturbing.

The bodies of the companions of these crazy wizards were not brought up. Did they intend to kill him, or did they expect that one or two people would die this time?

No one would answer this question for him.

The man who was driving the boat was the only normal person, but no matter how Julius asked, he refused to speak, and the remaining two wizards of the Key Group were in tears. They did not restrain Julius, nor did they pay attention to what he said, but only immersed themselves in the self-world created by hallucinogens and drugs to entertain themselves.

Julius closed his eyes and meditated, relieving his relaxed emotions, waiting for these crazy wizards to send him to their "destination".

At least he knew that he still had a chance to survive, and they must have come for the nightingale mark on his arm. As long as he could seize the opportunity and his tongue was not cut off, he had the confidence to convince the other party to let him go.

At this moment, he certainly thought of someone who left him alone.

Even though he knew that Clayton could not predict this attack, Julius also felt resentful.

If the two of them went together, it would be time to count the spoils.

But it was meaningless to imagine that they were going in the opposite direction and returning to Wei Aodi - the person who instructed the killing of the imperial envoy wanted to see Julius. When he thought of this, even meditation could not calm his spirit.

Clayton on the other side could not sense what happened to the green-haired wizard, and he was about to face his own crisis.

It was night, and he should go to see Opiros.

A tall, old, bald butler took him into the castle, and many other people followed him. In addition to Lind and Lydia, among these people, he could also see some faces he had seen on the streets and in the tavern before. At this moment, their expressions on him were different.

Whispering, scrutinizing eyes, Clayton ignored these, he observed them in turn.

Looking back several times, he had memorized some situations in his heart. There are quite a lot of differences between the werewolves here. They are not all tall, and the color of their eyes is not uniform. Only the hair color changes with the power of the curse.

And when they gather together, some factors such as "emotion", "status" and "relationship" make them separate again and form an organization within the organization.

Eye color is an important factor in distinguishing them. Clayton noticed that there were the most black-haired and green-eyed members, and they did not look very happy. The difference between them was the smallest, and their average height was higher than that of the werewolves in other groups. They basically stood closely together. This large group did not accept compatriots with other different-colored eyes. Only a few members with green eyes were with other small organizations. Linde, who had the same blood as them, was an outlier among them.

Another organization with strong cohesion was composed of red-eyed werewolves. They looked as elite as the green-eyed ones, but there were not many of them, and they were particularly arrogant. There were also no other werewolfs with different eyes with them.

As for the rest of the werewolf groups, they did not care about the color of their eyes, were generally smaller in size, and were more keen on private communication.

Although they were all from the same Conrionai, their actual bloodlines were different.

Including the werewolves stationed in the castle, Clayton roughly calculated that the number of werewolves here was between 60 and 80. This was nothing during the day, but at night, it was equivalent to a full-strength knight group.

As they walked beside him, the overflowing heat and vitality almost made him tremble with excitement, imagining himself fighting to the death here.

With such armed forces, it is no wonder that the Conlionai family can still maintain the old-style aristocratic rule here.

So far, including Lind, Clayton has seen five werewolves who look almost as strong as himself, three with green eyes and two with red eyes. Many of their kind are surrounding them, and there is a faint glow of strange things on their bodies. In this way, they should be the strongest werewolves here, the "fangs of the clan" mentioned by Lind.

These "fangs" have been observing Clayton for the longest time.

Maybe there is welcome, maybe there is hostility, but because he decided to leave at the beginning, Clayton doesn't care.

When he saw these clan fangs, he had an unexplained confidence-he believed that he would not be inferior to any of them in a one-on-one duel with them.

Tonight, all the werewolves here have one goal, which is to go to the ritual hall for a party.

This was not a welcome to Clayton Bello, but the gathering itself was one of the clan's most important events, and they did this one day a week.

Lydia walked beside Clayton and explained the rules here. Her eager attitude towards Clayton made some werewolves start to exchange glances, but no one spoke.

The night gatherings of the Conlionet family were well known in Berdalabik, but ordinary people would only regard this as a reward from the werewolf nobles to those with outstanding abilities. They also longed to come to the castle to play one day and receive the same treatment. Sometimes, if civilians made significant contributions, the patriarch of the Black Claw clan would give them the "opportunity" to be promoted to werewolves.

There was no whale oil power generation device in the castle. It was as old as the system adopted by its owner in Berdalabik, but there were braziers in every corner and torches on every wall. The light they could produce was no worse than that of electric lamps.

When passing through the cold stone walls with torches, the firelight briefly illuminated the faces of these passers-by, making their sinister expressions invisible.

As they went deeper into the castle, in addition to the smell of burning grease, the smell of hair, flesh, and feces became stronger and stronger. It was not that the servants here did not clean carefully, but that the werewolves had lived here for too long. Some of the natural smells in life had been mixed with the building itself over the years, marking the ownership of the castle.

When Clayton listened carefully, there were faint wailing sounds coming from underground.

If nothing unexpected happened, there should be a great dungeon here.

In places where the firelight could not reach, Clayton saw some wolf-shaped black shadows squatting in the corners, or nimbly shuttling between the shadows, occasionally roaring, or fighting each other, and the echoes lingered in the corridor for a long time.

When these creatures realized that someone was watching them, they would consciously hide, enter the room on the side of the corridor, or simply escape to a farther distance and look back.

"Some of them are my sisters' children, and some are losers who cannot perfectly control their body transformation after receiving wolf blood. We are still supporting them now, waiting for them to truly control their own power one day." Lydia said proudly.

Clayton nodded calmly.

The clan uses blood as cohesion, and it should unconditionally tolerate losers.

But even with these, the clan members he saw may be less than a hundred.

"We will introduce you to the clan leader later, and you should be more respectful." Linde said.

Although they also have black hair and green eyes, Linde and his daughter did not stand with the group with green eyes. They formed an independent group, and some medium-level werewolves followed behind them. They were all young men who worked in the boat rental company during the day.

Maybe their strength was too weak, maybe they did not have the breath of power and law, or maybe Linde's breath covered them up, and Clayton did not recognize their werewolf identity before.

"What do you think of our clan?" Lydia asked Clayton, she expected to get some praise.

"There are fewer people than I thought." Clayton said, "I thought there would be hundreds of werewolves. After all, new members join and babies are born every few years."

Many werewolves looked strange when they heard this, and some even laughed directly. One of the red-eyed ones grinned and answered him for them: "Maybe there will be so many in the future."

The thin and bald butler walked in front. Hearing their conversation, he also spoke in a gloomy tone: "Some werewolves want to leave the clan - to retire, travel around the world, or open up new hunting grounds. As long as they serve the clan for thirty years, they will be regarded as having repaid everything they have received here and can be given the right to leave the clan."

Thirty years is not a long time in a werewolf's life, so this rule sounds fair to Clayton.

If he hadn't owed a favor to the Elders' Council of Sasha City before, he would have really thought about joining the Black Claw Clan.

However, such a rule also shows that the resources controlled by the Black Claw Clan are actually not enough, just like the wolf pack in nature, the young members of the wolf pack will also leave the wolf pack to find another way out due to the lack of food resources in the territory.

This is different from the information revealed by Grogne and Dais.

In the eyes of the two elders, the Black Claw Clan should be a big family in Wei Aodi, and its influence is not limited to Berdalabik.

It seems that after their last meeting with the Black Claw Clan, Wei Aodi has undergone some changes in the pattern, and the status of these werewolves has declined. Considering the experience of Elder Dais, this should have happened in the past forty years.

Is it because of the failure of hops investment as the locals have said? Clayton thought that poverty can indeed change a lot of things.

Passing through the hollow courtyard part of the castle and arriving at a huge wooden archway, the butler who had been walking in front suddenly stopped, and the team stagnated.

"The leader is already waiting inside, everyone go in first, I still need to do some things that other leaders have told me." The butler's tone was casual and not respectful enough. This is because his identity is not just a butler. As a werewolf who only obeys the clan leader, his status in the clan is not low.

The werewolves bypassed him and poured into the ceremony hall.

Lind nodded to Clayton, signaling him to follow him.

The interior structure of the ceremony hall was neither unique nor sophisticated, and could even be described as crude.

This was a huge hall. In order to set up this hall, only the second and third floors were left empty. The flag with the emblem of the Conlionai family hung from the ceiling, and it had faded a little.

The center of the hall is an open space, with several werewolf furs spread on the ground - they were once worn by the betrayers.

There is a high platform at the end opposite the main entrance. Two long tables made of whole stones are on both sides of the hall, enough for a hundred people to sit here. From this, we can vaguely observe the extraordinary status and wealth of the Conleone family.

When Clayton sat down at the end of the long table on the right, other werewolves had also found their seats.

The owner of this place did not need much lighting. There were only six braziers arranged at the corners of the hall, emitting dim light, but this little light appropriately connected the atmosphere of the room into a whole and softened it. Everything here was like a huge gray pudding.

In the pudding, the werewolves' glowing eyes sparkled like crystal sugar cubes.

When everyone sat down, Clayton saw a figure emerge from the shadows and walk onto the high platform.

He was Opiros.