Werewolf Hunting Rules.

Chapter 467 Convergent Evolution
At daybreak, Clayton parted ways with Halcha.

He wore a hat, a somewhat worn cross necklace around his neck, and carried a cane, dressed like any devout believer in today's society, and stood on the street watching people come and go.

As things stand, the street he lives on is very peaceful, a stark contrast to the atmosphere he has been experiencing recently.

The crowd of workers and junior staff still rushed to work, wearing dark smocks and regular clothes, with gray and black being their colors.

Shooting, devils, massacres—these words are certainly terrifying, and the threats around us are real. But if they don't work today and still eat and spend money, then it's as if they've worked for nothing for the past few days. Arresting and reporting devils are just side effects.

There are fewer horse-drawn carriages now, which makes the streets less prone to congestion than before.

Those who can afford to ride in carriages usually have some savings, so taking a break from work to get through this turbulent winter might be a good option.

Because of the absence of these people with savings—or perhaps because it was still morning—the commercial street on the other side of the road seemed rather deserted. Slender, uniformed shop assistants glanced anxiously at the crowds behind their glass windows, seemingly afraid that the riots happening elsewhere might also occur here.

These scenes and characters may soon be destroyed.

The Oranster family stirred up trouble and instigated war; Norris was truly a remarkable schemer.

If Clayton were to catch Norris later, he wouldn't choose to kill him because Norris had saved him multiple times. Instead, he would cut off Norris's thumbs and send his old friend to South Bliss to retire—just as Norris had guessed before—in some ways, Clayton had never changed.

The situation in Weaudi is deteriorating rapidly, and it will be of no use even if Norris and the organization behind him stop interfering.

There was already plenty of flammable material here. All they had to do was light the fire, and then they no longer needed to maintain it; the fire would grow on its own.

The flames have already risen, and it's impossible to extinguish them easily.

Clayton was not an arrogant person who thought he could stop everything from happening.

Moreover, perhaps some things will happen naturally, just as Norris said, even without his instigation.

There are too many contradictions in Weaudi, and the composition of the people here is too complicated. As long as the weather is slightly dry, the spark will naturally form. Orlanster just ignited it all ahead of time.

He stayed in Weaude for no other reason than to see what direction Norris wanted to see.

Clayton observed everyone.

Each person is like a breeze, but when they come together, they become the wind direction that Norris needs to watch carefully.

Among the workers, the tall ones with tattoos were mostly Northerners. They were very strong but not very agile, and most of them worked as dockworkers.

"Yankees" is actually a derogatory term for the inhabitants of Milendie and the surrounding small countries. Clayton usually doesn't harbor malice towards a complete stranger, but he thinks it's appropriate to call these people by that name and there's no need to change it.

He had previously sought out several unions in order to seize the silver piled up in Warehouse 96. Other races, including foreigners, all had their own unions, but these Yankees did not, and their wages were the lowest among the workers.

This situation also exists in Sasha, because these Yankees do not understand Dorn, and they rely entirely on a guarantor who understands the Northland language to find work.

The Yankees arrived in Dorne burdened with debts for travel and lodging, their bodies and assets completely dependent on their guarantors. The guarantors promised to find them work, essentially selling them off cheaply. These men, enslaved in their own country, remained enslaved in free Dorne, never considering breaking free from this bond of personal dependence. As long as their guarantors remained, they would never dare participate in strikes or demonstrations.

Because hiring a Yankee is so cheap, they rightfully have more job opportunities and are therefore generally hated by their own workers.

The Northwesterners, however, were not ashamed of this hatred; in fact, they were quite pleased with it.

The religious beliefs of the North regard hard work and simplicity as characteristics of saints, and those skilled in slavery believe this. The only people who can compete with the Northmen are the Moriel, who are known as dwarves.

At Clayton's eye level, it wouldn't be easy to notice them.

These dwarfs gathered in twos and threes, blending into the crowd. If it weren't for their thick waists and the crowbars and wrenches they often carried on their waists, which could be used to repair both machinery and people, these figures would easily be mistaken for child laborers.

Dwarfs and Yankees are different. Although they have low wage requirements, they have a minimum standard and are not afraid of fighting.

While other races are not as popular as the dwarves, they also have regional divisions, form their own groups, and are controlled by secret societies, cults, and gangs. Even though two guilds, with the help of Clayton and Julius, absconded with the Friendship Society's silver, the remaining workers will not become more docile just because the number of their counterparts in the city has decreased. They can still become dangerous armed groups at any time.

The forces behind them are diverse and seemingly ordinary when dispersed, but from a macro perspective, they constitute a very powerful force.

Clayton's gaze swept over the worried, gaunt Gance man and the cunning but generous Brigadier, then he looked into the distance and noticed that there were more monks on the road than before.

It's not just a little more, it's a lot more.

And they were definitely not monks from the local church; they came from the south.

Clayton wasn't a local and didn't recognize the local monastic community, but the monks' clothing was clearly ill-suited to the Weaudian weather; they probably wore only two layers under their robes. The cold was causing them considerable discomfort, yet their faces maintained a resolute expression. When they saw foreign workers with tattoos on their bare skin, they would suddenly stop to observe, seemingly trying to discern whether the tattoos were pagan symbols.

If they happen to pass by someone whose clothes and appearance are unusual and who is obviously a superhuman, they will frown in disgust and quickly make the sign of the cross several times on their chest.

Clayton deduced that the monks had probably come from the south by train.

The southward routes of the Basby family and other railway giants were cut off at Weodi because the southern railway companies refused to merge with them. Southern passengers had to make a transfer here to continue north, just like Clayton from Sasha to Weodi.

This seems to be something Tritice said.

Because the Tauntons were working on the Supreme Act and vying with the Church for the right to interpret scriptures, fervent believers from all over the continent were rushing to Taunton to "admonish" the Knight King; this was merely a temporary stop for them.

But in these turbulent times, even if these monks were only going to stay briefly, they might suddenly become involved in the chaotic situation in Wei'ao.

Weaudi is full of secret societies, heretics, and demon worshippers. With the piety of these monks, would they really turn a blind eye to these beings?
The local church has no reason to stand idly by.

Although Norris promised to withdraw from the situation with his people, the Basby and Hutton families were unlikely to stop. They were not Orlanster's trusted vassals and had their own demands. Even with one less competitor, they would not take this as an example or consider whether there were any concerns. Instead, they would continue this cause and try to suppress the entire city.

Having lost the winged serpent's covert assistance, the two families' last resort is the extraordinary forces and armies that have formed contracts with them.

However, because they lost the help of the winged snakes, they were less able to control their own trump cards than before.

Perhaps their trump card will get out of control, and they'll end up in the position of manipulators.

Thinking of this, Clayton suddenly couldn't help but laugh out loud.

What is he thinking? Weren't Basby and Hutton originally the ones being manipulated? It makes no difference at all!
Clayton walked slowly, leaning on his cane, determined to take this opportunity to see what would become of these people. Since chaos was inevitable, he should observe more closely to see what kind of trouble would occur in cities in similar situations.

Perhaps this is the direction Norris wanted to see.

After walking through several streets, he suddenly saw a crowd gathered at a corner of the street, all looking up at something.

He went over and saw that there was a corpse hanging on a flagpole that extended horizontally from the wall above the bank entrance.

It was Mr. Cuomo.

Joseph greatly admired the merchant, as if he were an angel from heaven.

No, he believed the other person was an angel.

Because he watched as the merchant floated down the river—naked, like a little cherub in a mural (though not quite the same size), and then came back to life from the dead, punished the bad guys, and brought his mother back to life. This was clearly a miracle, and the most magnificent one at that.

He was willing to do anything to repay the merchant; he had already become his little follower.

Although his previous search for his brother had not ended well, it was a very common occurrence; what family hasn't lost two or three siblings? So Joseph didn't grieve for long, nor did he feel that anyone should be held responsible; it was all just bad luck.

He accepted all the businessman's arrangements without a second thought until he saw the revelation.

When the businessman looked at the building across the street from the hotel for the second time, Joseph knew he had to do something.

It's like in a junkyard. If he finds usable discarded items in one spot, he'll go back a second time. And if he finds something the second time, he'll go a third and a fourth time.

Perhaps the merchant has just come down from heaven and doesn't yet understand that such laws exist in the mortal world; I have an obligation to help him.

Joseph's next move would be called "scouting" by professionals.

He followed quietly behind an older railway company employee, so close they looked like a grandfather and grandson, but the man didn't notice him. Security personnel, therefore, ignored him and allowed him to walk brazenly into the Bassberg building.

Joseph knew that there were many places in the world that were not open to the public and could only be entered by those dressed in fine clothes. Fortunately, the merchant had given him a nice set of clothes, so he was able to enter.

Once out of the sight of the security personnel, he left the unsuspecting employee and began to stroll around the building at will.

Although it was a bit odd to have a small child in the office, no one kicked him out.

He was dressed in clean and tidy clothes, and there was no fear on his face. Everyone who saw him assumed he was the son of a colleague, or perhaps even their boss. In addition, there had been an accident in the building in the past few days, and there was a lot of work to catch up on today, so no one came up to ask him any questions.

Joseph strolled leisurely along, listening to the sounds around him.

(End of this chapter)