Werewolf hunting rules

Led by Opiros and several other werewolves, Clayton walked up the dark tower stairs.

The spiral staircase spiraled upward, and the vortex formed seemed to have no end. In addition to the stairs, the remaining space on each floor was only one room, all closed by iron doors.

The heavy sounds of movement and chewing came from behind these doors, and similar sounds formed overlapping echoes up and down the stairs.

The elders of the Black Claw Clan lived here. They were all very powerful werewolves. Because of their loyalty to the clan, even if they were old and disabled, they did not choose to seek glorious defeat, but stayed here to contribute the remaining strength, their own insights and survival wisdom to the clan.

Maxim is the oldest werewolf among them.

Over 230 years old, with extraordinary insights, even the patriarchs of all generations have to express respect for him.

But Clayton didn't understand why he invited him to meet.

Standing on the sixth floor of the tower, Opiros pushed open the iron door and entered first, followed by Lind and his daughter and another red-eyed fang.

The chewing sound stopped only after they all went in.

"Finally, it's here." A deep but grand voice said.

Clayton was the last to go in under the gaze of the other werewolves. He couldn't tell whether he was feeling fear or anticipation.

As soon as he entered the room, the iron door closed behind him. He didn't have the extra energy to be nervous about this behavior, because the shadow of a huge wolf head was covering him, as well as Opiros, Lind and others.

With only five guests, the space on this floor was already crowded.

Because an old werewolf who almost occupied half of the room was sitting cross-legged in the room.

Its size was terrifyingly huge. When it stood up, it should be seventeen feet tall. Among the creatures Clayton had seen, even Pan in the fairyland could not compare to it. Only the ancestors he had seen in dreams could surpass it.

Its condition was not very good.

There was a layer of white film on both eyes, which seemed to be a symptom of vision degeneration. The black hair was sparse, and the pink and spotted skin was exposed in the gaps. They were close to the bones, revealing the shape of the ribs. There was a horizontal wound on its chest, from the leftmost to the rightmost, with the skin and flesh around the wound rolling up, and the smell of blood and pus filled the room.

The windows in the room were open, and the air flow took the smell out, and sent the slightly better smell of the moat in.

When the old werewolf opened his mouth, you could see many empty sockets on the red gums. Only a little more than half of the teeth were left, and only two of the four big teeth were left. The rest of the teeth had been dulled by the long years, and it was difficult to chew raw meat.

Some chewed meat leaked out from its teeth and fell on the ground in front of it, forming a disgusting paste.

Clayton had already felt an incomparable fear, and he finally understood why the strong were afraid of aging.

But even though he was so old, the old werewolf still gave Clayton a strong sense of danger. This was because he had a kind of ancient and primitive thought that did not conform to the current social operation rules and a complex and mottled bloody smell.

"Sure enough, I can smell the familiar smell of the Yankees here, black hair, yellow eyes, I should recognize your ancestor, maybe he is dead, or maybe he is still alive like me."

The old werewolf, whose sense of smell is still extremely sensitive, slowly extended his huge and smelly upper body forward, and stopped his nose in front of Clayton. His blind eyes made it difficult for him to see the visitor, so he could only turn his head and turn his bald ears to Clayton.

"Which clan are you from? Remind me, kid, it reminds me of my old friend's name." Its low voice was deafening.

Opiros and other werewolves looked at Clayton in surprise.

They knew that the Yankees that Elder Maxim was talking about werewolves who migrated from the north. If Clayton had this smell, he must be a descendant of a werewolf, not a newborn who was inspired by the dark moon in recent years.

Maxim's feeling should not be wrong, but they can also clearly feel that he does not have the power of the clan law.

"Sorry, sir, but I have not joined any clan since I awakened."

While answering, Clayton actually had a sense of expectation.

He felt Maxim's nostalgic feelings. Maybe he could really get in touch with the Conlionai family.

"Ah - the sealer." The old werewolf suddenly realized that he had identified the elements he needed at once: "It's really rare. I know who you are from. Ventra Astir, only the werewolves of the Astir family would do this. They have many curses left by wizards who hate them, and are forced to maintain an inhuman state during the day. It's better to seal their own power. At least other curses will no longer work."

The image he described made Clayton immediately think of the ancestor who took the train without buying a ticket.

However, that person was a lone traveler without the company of his family.

Could it be a werewolf of the Astir family?

Astir, Clayton silently recited the word again, and felt that it was as far away as the clouds in the sky. Maybe he belonged to it, maybe not, but in the end it made no difference. He felt that he didn't care.

He had never even heard of the name Ventra.

Judging from the similarly puzzled expressions of other werewolves, they did not know about Ventra or the Astyir family. Perhaps the information about them has been lost for a long time and only survives in the memories of old men like Elder Maxim.

Elder Maxim suddenly shrugged his shoulders and watched Clayton laugh with a weird accent. His sparse teeth made his pronunciation inaccurate: "My old friend told me that all these mistakes will be corrected on the Day of Judgment. Maybe it means that the great moon can remove other curses."

"Looking at you, her prediction was right. She, or her descendants, chose the path of sealing themselves. But just a few years later, her descendants have forgotten their ancestors, and she herself has probably been buried in grave!"

"Without the inheritance of extraordinary knowledge, and without enough power to maintain the clan, you are no different from the brats of the new era, you all have to start from scratch!"

It laughed happily, and the whole room shook with laughter, allowing those younger generations who were far younger than it to feel the terrifying power remaining in its aging, half-disabled body.

This kind of fun makes it even more unclear what relationship it has with its "old friends".

And this attitude makes the atmosphere weird.

Clayton wanted to swallow his anger, but the terrible pressure Maxim put on him made him resist instinctively, forcing him to say something: "Maybe, since fate is only willing to give me this bad card, then I will Just try to play it well.”

"Astute answer."

Maxim stopped laughing, and the huge wolf head was in front of Clayton's face again. His cloudy eyes seemed to penetrate the white membrane to see something from him. The stench overflowed from its wounds and mouth, like the devil's Legacy poison.

"But I thought Ventra's descendants would be warriors, but you are a liar."

"Did I lie?" Clayton asked.

"Of course, don't try to hide it from me. You know something about the Sealed One, and you are not just a lone traveler. I know that you must have joined some big forces, which makes you not have enough demand for the clan." Huge The werewolf poked his ear with a hairy finger: "I can hear your heartbeat, every beat, so I know when you're nervous."

"Most liars can control their expressions, but only the best ones can control their heartbeats."

"When it comes to this business, you are at best a second-rate liar."

Opylos, Linde, his daughter, and the red-eyed tooth all looked at Clayton Bello with expressionless expressions. They could no longer tolerate this kind of deception. They moved without concealment and moved Clayton away. Dun is surrounded by it.

After doing all this, Opylos looked at Maxim with solicitous eyes, as if waiting for a suggestion.

Crazy! So fucking crazy!

Clayton gritted his teeth. He never thought that Maxim judged his lies through his heartbeat.

He was on the first floor when he lied!

Considering the reason why Maxim summoned him, that is to say, from thirty meters and three floors away, Maxim could already use his sense of smell and hearing to detect his scent and heartbeat!

The horror of this old werewolf completely exceeded Clayton's imagination.

Forcing a smile, Clayton defended himself in front of the huge mottled wolf head: "Lone travelers should always be careful. And you should also know that I don't have any ill intentions when I come here. I'm just looking for two dead people." , and all I did to stay here was curiosity.”

"That's not bad." Maxim nodded slowly, the shadow of his head in the cold moonlight pressing heavily on Clayton's body.

"So which organization do you belong to?"

Its deep voice had a magical power that made Clayton unable to suppress the rapid beating of his heart. He put his hands behind his back to resist the huge pressure in front of him: "A branch of the Druid Order, they emphasize the city The balance with nature, the balance between dark descendants and human society.”

"What's its name?"

"Presbyterian."

The Presbyterian Church is a very popular name for an organization. The speaker groups in some villages are also called Presbyterian Church. The predecessor of the city’s parish council also belongs to the local Presbyterian Church. Clayton hopes that Maxim will not think of the fatal elder Sasha. meeting.

Elder Dyce and the Black Claw clan once had a feud. Although Clayton Bello knew nothing about the inside story, it was obviously not appropriate to show his identity with him at this moment and let these clan werewolves have unnecessary doubts about him. hostility.

Clayton once thought that as long as he didn't mention it, no one would doubt his identity, but Maxim made him no longer confident.

"Well——"

The giant werewolf Elder Maxim did not continue. He meditated, still clasping his sharp fingers on the wound on his chest that had not healed for many years.

The depressing feeling slowly built up in the room as it remained silent.

When Clayton had decided to speak again to break the silence, it suddenly turned its head and twitched its ears. Then, leaving Clayton alone, it turned to Opylos and said, "Chief, that boy Raviin and the others are out. The members of the hunt are here, please let them come up, I want to reward them."

"Laviin was sent out by you immediately after the trial. I have never seen him. It is really a pity. After all, he is my direct descendant. I want to meet him."

The tone was not humble enough, but the tone in which Maxim spoke to Opylos was respectful, unlike the tone in which the real Edwards would speak to the puppet king.

Opiros nodded in reciprocal respect, then turned into a wolf and raised his head to let out a tortuous howl.

The iron door behind Clayton opened, and the same wolf howls rang out one after another on the floors below, until finally, at the bottom of the castle, a wolf howl with a different tune rang out.