Werewolf Hunting Rules.

Chapter 466 Settling Old Debts
at night.

Halcha sat upright in his cell, surrounded by thunderous snoring.

Unlike the East District prison, the South District prison is overcrowded. It's only worthwhile to have at least six people in a cell, which means he currently has five people around him.

The stench of sweat and bad breath permeated the prison cells.

Harcha was not bothered by the smells; he half-closed his eyes and faced the iron bars.

Those iron bars, as thick as a baby's finger, were not an indestructible obstacle to his werewolf form, but he still chose to stay there.

The new prisoner brought in information from the outside world, including the city government's open suppression and manhunt of the Dark Ones, which made him unable to move.

When Harcha was arrested by the police, he tried to intimidate them by using his noble status. Although it was ineffective and he did not explain which family he belonged to, he still left an impression on the police. Many people remembered his appearance. If he made a violent escape, the traces he left behind could easily implicate Conionne.

Killing all the witnesses here won't work either, since the police are an official agency and causing a commotion would implicate the church.

The Church's usual attitude towards the Darkin is very lax, but whenever a serious incident occurs that attracts widespread public attention and is related to mysterious forces, they will definitely send people to intervene and investigate, thereby expanding their influence.

Conionne's assassin business often requires him to travel for this reason. After all, Weaudi is the werewolves' "home," and there is nowhere to retreat if they fight here. Open conflict would affect their reputation.

This is a tense time, and Harcha cannot afford to burden his family.

So, he probably really did have to serve his three days in jail.

Halcha thought so, until his murder target showed up with the key to the cell.

Another well-dressed werewolf inserted the key into the lock, turned it briefly, and then pulled open the cell door. Halcha looked up at him.

"What are you here for?"

"To settle our unfinished business."

The newcomer lightly tossed a ball of yarn at Halcha's face. It was the strange object he used to track his target, which the police had taken away when he was imprisoned, and the police even mocked him for it.

“Looks like I misjudged you.” Halcha stuffed the ball of yarn into his pocket and stood up, supporting himself on his knees. “Four minutes left, where do we go?”

Mason Park.

Halcha's eyes flickered, then he nodded emphatically.

Soon, two wolf shadows sped down the street, heading straight for Mason Park.

Although it's a public place, the parks in Weaudi are rarely visited. These areas were mostly occupied by homeless people in the past. Without the shelter of a roof, the homeless are exposed to the moonlight for long periods, and some occasionally suffer from moon mania, becoming mentally deranged and twisted. Whenever children go missing in the neighborhood, the residents blame these people who have begun to eat raw meat. Some even come regularly to secretly murder these homeless people, some to prevent crime, and others to collect materials for dark magic.

Over time, apart from the ascetics of the Brotherhood of the Sincere, no homeless person dared to live in the park, and because of the various bloody incidents left in the park, no one dared to come and enjoy the park during the day. Weaudi's park thus became a forbidden place.

Tonight, this forbidden land will once again be stained with blood.

Clayton stood on the mottled cement ground between two flower borders. He had already eaten the Tooth Fairy that Norris had given him, but the weapon that Norris had given him was useless in this battle.

Halcha stopped in front of him, and they remained as usual, facing each other bare-handed, without using the power of curses.

But this time the situation is not exactly the same as before.

Under the moonlight, even without using shapeshifting, werewolves can still receive a significant boost to their stamina and regeneration, making many tactical strategies that cannot be used during the day available.

Furthermore, at night, the cross necklace [Otherworldly Gift] on Halchai's body becomes ineffective in blocking sunlight.

Without saying a word, the two men, seeing each other's stance, simultaneously attacked each other.

In order to determine the winner within four minutes, everyone seized the time and stopped wasting time thinking about sure-win tactics, instead fighting in the way they were best at.

Halcha's movements were as fast as lightning. A hidden sweeping leg lunged forward like a venomous snake, biting at Clayton's calf. But Clayton neither dodged nor avoided it. Instead, he sidestepped and crashed into it.

The sweeping kick landed on Clayton, but the point of impact was slightly off.

The kick actually uses the hard shinbone as a weapon. For a skilled fighter who is good at kicking, the power of the protruding shinbone can be almost comparable to a heavy axe once it is swung out. Clayton's approach actually avoided the most dangerous area.

Ultimately, it wasn't Halcha's sharp calf that hit him, but rather the thigh, which was moving more slowly during the kick.

Its power is terrifying to mortals, but it is still somewhat lacking in power against its own kind of werewolves.

A dull thud rang out between the two men, followed by another sound—the sound of Clayton's fist striking Halcha's left ribs immediately after being kicked.

Halcha let out a muffled groan and fell backward.

But his weapon-like legs seemed unaffected, silently clamping down on Clayton's left leg. The pincer movement was formed instantly. The moment his back hit the ground, he braced himself with his elbows and suddenly rolled to the right, like a crocodile hunting in the southern swamps, tearing at its prey while rolling.

A powerful torque was applied to Clayton's left leg, causing him to lose his balance. He stumbled and turned around to free his leg from Halcha's grip, but lost his balance and fell to the left, crashing into the long-abandoned and dead bushes in the flowerbed.

The crisp sound of small, withered branches breaking was constant.

Clayton instinctively tried to get up by holding onto the bushes next to him, but they couldn't support his weight.

When he pressed his hand down, he could only destroy the already dead plant remains once more. This time, he lost his balance again and knelt on the ground.

Halcha's belt, [Running Shepherd], continued to work, and with the speed boost from the artifact, he got up first and caught up. He delivered a side kick with his right leg towards Clayton's throat. The attack was so fast that it produced a sharp sound like a spear piercing through the air.

No one shouted when the fight began, but the wind howling from the intense struggle carried a signal far more terrifying than any scream born of anger or fear. Clayton leaned back desperately, avoiding a fatal blow, but was still struck in the collarbone, and with a cracking sound, his heavy body crashed backward.

Halcha did not retract his right leg, but instead twisted his waist to the left and pressed down his upper body. His right leg, which had just completed an attack, fell fiercely again like a guillotine, heading towards his vulnerable abdomen that had no bone protection.

Clayton pulled his legs back in an attempt to block the blow, but it was too late. Halcha's boot slammed into his vulnerable abdomen. The hard concrete beneath him offered no cushioning, and the boot crushed his internal organs through the skin of his abdomen.

The excruciating pain instantly assaulted Clayton's mind; his muscles tensed, and he exhaled all the air from his lungs.

Amidst this excruciating pain that affected both his internal and external systems, his body even began to fear breathing, lest the movement of his lung muscles aggravate the damaged areas and trigger even more unbearable agony.

Clayton's remaining rationality controlled his raging instincts, preventing the other will in his blood from gaining the upper hand. Instead, he focused on controlling his energy to heal his injuries. At the same time, he gripped Halcha's ankles tightly with both hands, and his legs, which had been delayed in the defense, stretched upwards and wrapped tightly around Halcha's right leg to secure him. His whole body was like an upside-down figure, with only his shoulders and back supporting him on the ground.

Halcha was taken aback and tried to pull his right leg out of Clayton's grasp, but to no avail.

An ominous premonition suddenly swelled in his heart.

After wrapping his legs around Harcha's right thigh, Clayton leaned his upper body to the left, lifting Harcha's right leg to chest level. He loosened his grip slightly, but not by giving up. His right hand circled around Harcha's right foot, pinching the heel with his backhand, while his left hand grasped the left edge of the front of the foot.
It's like a helmsman turning the helm on a ship.

A crisp cracking sound broke the silence as Halcha's right leg twisted completely ninety degrees below the knee. This clan tooth from Black Claw was also capable of enduring pain that could destroy the spirit of an ordinary person. He remained silent, but the damage to his joints could not be overcome by willpower, and his upright figure collapsed instantly.

The victory that had almost been achieved was completely wiped out.

Clayton flipped over and locked Halcha's left leg with both legs again, trying to replicate the move. However, the intense pain in his abdomen caused his movements to become distorted, reducing the damage. Halcha broke free of the leg lock and was thrown off by the opponent's counterattack.

However, that doesn't matter. Halcha's right leg is completely unusable, so giving his left leg to a disabled person with a perfectly good right leg but an amputated left leg will still allow the other person to walk a little with a limp.

The outcome has been decided.

Two seriously injured men lay on the ground, panting heavily, when suddenly a flock of crows flew up from the desolate, wild woods of the park and swept over their heads.

Clayton vomited blood, which dripped down his beard, cheeks, and neck.

"Congratulations, you won. That's truly remarkable fighting skill; I've never heard of anything like it." Halcha's tone changed slightly due to the pain, but he still maintained his composure.

Although Clayton's internal organs were severely damaged, werewolves can heal quickly with their regenerative abilities. He can regain some of his fighting strength after resting for two or three hours. However, Halcha's leg joints are ruined. Even though he is a powerful werewolf, it will take at least half a night for him to regain the ability to walk.

If the time limit for the battle were not taken into account, Clayton could have easily stalled for several hours before killing Halcha, who would have had no chance of escaping.

"Cough, cough, cough!"

After clearing the blood clots from his throat, Clayton regained his ability to speak.

"What benefit would I get if I let you go?"

Halcha paused, then said, "Although you've won, I'm afraid you won't be able to kill me in the remaining time. Can you recover in two minutes? Or are you not planning to abide by the time limit?"

"Can you guarantee you won't be discovered by Conionne's enemies all night?" Clayton countered. "I can help you get through the night, find you hiding place, or get you some meat, which would be like saving your life. This is a business deal because you've always followed the rules."

Although they were just locked in a fierce battle, Clayton does indeed quite like Halcha.

Even with both legs broken, he did not transform or unleash his power, and obediently followed the rules set before the duel.

"What do you want?" Halcha asked.

Clayton closed his eyes, feeling the night breeze; the air in Weaudi was much better at night than during the day. "A strange object on you, the luggage I left in your castle, and information about my ancestors. I know Maxim dealt with her; he spoke of it."

“We’re still enemies,” Halcha reminded him. “The most I can do is negotiate one condition for you: I suggest you choose a temporary ceasefire.”

"A clan's tooth isn't enough to buy these things? Blackclaw is too stingy." Clayton felt it was unfair to Halcha.

Harcha corrected him: "It is a clan tooth that is about to end its obligations to the family."

Clayton lay on the ground in silence for a moment: "The guys who went to Warehouse 96 to kill me should all be home by now, right?"

"Yes."

“The last one to go home was the one I let go. Now I think he has some value, and you should pay me something for his life.”

Halcha took a breath: "You mean Lance? You beat him half to death and locked him in a box, making him a prisoner of the Sacred Heart Society, and he almost died at the hands of those mortals. Can you call that letting him go?"

“Stop pretending. I know you and Bassby are secret allies, and Warehouse 96 is Bassby’s property,” Clayton interrupted him.

"In short, meet my demands, or you can expect to see me on the other side in the upcoming war."

“The chieftain and elders will not agree. Even if I die at your hands, it’s impossible. We cannot satisfy so many demands from an enemy.” Harcha sat up and said, “At most two. Apart from a temporary ceasefire, the [Gift of the Other] is my own. I can decide to give it to you.”

"Replace the temporary ceasefire with information from my ancestors, write down the information, and send it here within three days."

This wolf was surprisingly easy to get along with and had a strong sense of honor, but Halcha couldn't understand his choice.

"Isn't life the most precious thing? Are you sure you want to continue being enemies with the Black Claw Clan?"

“You probably won’t have much energy left to deal with me, so I can rest for a while. To be honest, I don’t have much to do these days, and I’ve lost the artistic talent that I’ve always dreamed of. Life would be very boring for someone like me. It would be nice if someone could invite me out to stretch my muscles regularly. I’d be happy to accept any duel invitations,” Clayton said sincerely.

Halcha stopped talking.

He thought to himself, "If I were to relay these crazy words to the clan chief, he would probably call for a temporary ceasefire."