Werewolf Hunting Rules.

Chapter 490 Brawl
The werewolves' battle howls rose and fell, their terrifying eyes swayed in the darkness, and their enormous black bodies surged between the shadows of the buildings, as if they were vengeful spirits born from these old, dilapidated buildings.

The mere sight of them was enough to terrify ordinary people to the point of heart-stopping, and even seasoned warriors who didn't immediately retreat were considered among the elite of humanity. The reason they hadn't retreated was because several werewolves had fallen after being hit by a barrage of silver bullets, making them realize that these monsters were not invincible.

The monks began chanting scriptures to dispel the effects of the battle cries. But as the wolf pack began to move cautiously, avoiding weapons, and as snipers lying in ambush on the upper floors behind them fell one by one, their morale inevitably began to decline.

The crash could happen in the next minute, or it could happen in the next second.

However, this is only the attitude at the forefront of the battle; the negative attitude does not affect the members of the Holy Grail Order.

The fresh corpse, which had just died, was roughly thrown into a huge black crucible. The previously boiling unknown liquid moved even more violently, splashing water outside the crucible and creating bubbles as it hit the ground. It was hard to imagine what would happen to a body that fell into it.

Saisu stood on the trailer platform reserved next to the cauldron, rolled up his sleeves, took the gold-inlaid curved staff from the servant next to him, and then inserted it into the cauldron and stirred it vigorously.

In the boiling, clear medicinal liquid, the deceased's lacerated wounds began to heal at a visible speed.

The corpse trembled as if electrocuted, and the remaining life force within it was reawakened.

When it opened its eyes and returned to being itself, it regained the ability to breathe, as well as the ability to suffocate and feel temperature. Like a drunkard who had fallen into the water and suddenly sobered up, it stretched out its hands and struggled in the liquid that was submerged above its head.

Saisu gestured to his assistant to scoop the newly resurrected man out of the water. The gunman, soaking wet from head to toe, was thrown to the ground, his hands bracing against the ground as he coughed and spewed out streams of liquid from his mouth and nose. His skin was as red as a boiled shrimp.

"He's alive! He's alive!" the militiamen who witnessed the scene shouted in surprise.

Although the man who had been resurrected from the cauldron appeared disheveled, the news of his resurrection greatly stabilized the morale of the area as news of his recovery spread.

Those who witnessed it were unsure whether the person who entered the Demon Cauldron was severely wounded or a completely lifeless corpse, but the cauldron's effects were undeniably astonishing.

Anyone who can receive this level of medical care can be considered a hero.

Without the commander's voice, the militiamen regained their formation and arranged firing sequences with the hand gestures of several squad leaders. The gunners at the front fixed bayonets to their rifles and coordinated with the witchers ambushed inside the building. Some footsteps that had been quietly retreating at the back of the crowd also moved back.

Saisu watched these changes with a smile, but behind his back he gestured for his subordinates to secretly drag the more mangled corpses into the shadows when they were moving the second body, showing no intention of letting them enjoy the power of the magic cauldron.

Only corpses with relatively intact bodies and no missing organs can be "resurrected" within an hour of death with the help of the magic cauldron, and the time they gain from death is not much.

One day, and that is the limit of the magic cauldron; moreover, the life it grants to the dead will continue to weaken.

Being resurrected and then quickly killed again might actually be a decent outcome.

The dead who are reawakened will initially be overjoyed to have been given a second life, but three hours after they wake up, their physical strength will begin to weaken—unless other supernatural forces are applied to their bodies.

Ten hours later, their fingers and toes became numb, their vision became blurry, but their sense of smell and hearing remained sharp, and they experienced tingling pains throughout their bodies.

They might question this change, and telling them it's a temporary side effect of the resurrection can avoid conflict.

Sixteen hours later, the bodies of the revived dead began to decompose internally. Their strength was reduced to the extreme; they could only walk with a limp. Their heartbeats were weaker but faster, like those of a critically ill patient. They could no longer see, but they could still smell and taste the putrid odor and pus rising from their throats—signals of the accelerated decay of their internal organs.

At this point, even if the resurrected dead feel regret and hatred towards those who threw them into the cauldron, there is nothing they can do.

They will end their lives again in extreme pain.

The Holy Grail Order did not consider this a bad thing, and the alchemists did not care about this phenomenon at all.

The person who needs to be immersed in the magic cauldron is not the one who pays for the service, and the one who pays for it will not publicize it. As long as the revived warrior can return to the battle and continue to dedicate his life to the last moment, the established goal has been achieved.

Moreover, the technical difficulties of resurrection cannot be overcome simply by having a kind heart. So why bother getting caught up in such matters? It's just a waste of energy.

At most, we'll force these poor souls to drink more tincture of opium so they can die more easily.

This panacea is praised by alchemists all over the world.

The werewolves noticed the presence of the Grail Order. Five strong werewolves broke away from the pack and attacked, one of them particularly large. If Clayton were here, he would recognize it as Halcha. These five werewolves leaped onto the building to avoid the ground-based gunfire, running on all fours along the perpendicular walls as if gravity had no effect on them; the magical scene was created by their claws digging into the brickwork. Sesu whistled and pulled the carriage with the magic cauldron back a short distance.

At the same time, a team was also dispatched from the position to surround and protect them.

The gunmen fired relentlessly, trying their best to slow down the five werewolves so that the demon hunters could keep their crossbows steady on them.

The sound of multiple crossbow bolts piercing the air almost merged into one, and immediately two werewolves fell off the wall.

Silver crossbow bolts pierced their limbs, and they roared as they rose again, pulling the silver bolts from their bodies, but they could not keep up with their companions.

The three werewolves, including a clan tooth, arrived at the cult's carriage, but they were blocked by wandering monks.

These wandering monks, known as pilgrims, carried long wooden staffs wrapped in white linen; though their faces differed, they all shared the same stiff expression.

When faced with werewolves, they all raised their crosses high and then brought them down heavily.

The white linen wrapped around the staff emitted a bright light that was invisible to ordinary people but blindingly bright to the Darkin.

The werewolves instinctively stopped and arched their backs, their black fur standing on end, trembling violently like seaweed in turbulent waters. However, the raised fur did not make them appear larger; instead, their overall size seemed to shrink, as if their wolfish side was about to retreat at any moment, returning from their invincible monster form to the cage of human form.

Even long after a saint has died, his sacred shroud still possesses the power to suppress curses.

Halcha rolled over, dodging the incoming bullets and crossbow bolts, while his half-human, half-wolf body transformed completely into a wolf form. This form offered greater resistance to the sun's power. The other werewolves he led followed suit, and the three giant wolves charged at the Grail Order members once again, this time at an even faster speed.

The five pilgrims blocking the carriage all stretched out their free hand to push forward.

"In the name of the Lord, disperse! Disperse!"

Although the giant wolf form is faster, it is much lighter than the werewolf, and the Pilgrims’ offensive wonders repel them.

Once they recovered, a new cultivator appeared before them.

The monk was disheveled, but his eyes were very bright. He wore only a thin woolen robe that was warm in summer and cool in winter, and it was clear at a glance that he was a traditional ascetic. As soon as he appeared, more than a dozen of the streetlights went out.

At this moment, he knelt before the werewolves with a devout expression, his hands raised high, but this was not a sign of surrender to Conione; this respect was for the sacred object he held in his raised hands.

As for the sacred object, it consisted of two wires wrapped in black insulating rubber that had just been torn off, their ends connected to a whale oil generator that was working in the distance, humming loudly.

"Holy angel, let us become one!" the ascetic cried out.

A blinding white bolt of lightning surged from the two wires in his hands, intertwining and connecting, then spreading up his body, coating his yellowed and tattered woolen coat with the gleaming light of lightning.

At that moment, this dirty shroud was more sacred than the archbishop's robe.

In the scriptures of the Kagyu school, light, heat, and lightning are considered the power of the Father. Scientists' deciphering and application of the principles of lightning were widely regarded as a victory of mankind over God, which dealt a heavy blow to the Kagyu school. However, soon after, the Papal States of Pharisees declared that this progress was due to the Father's love for human self-improvement. It was because He permitted another breakthrough in human civilization that He bestowed the angels of lightning to help. This statement saved the faith of many believers.

Words alone cannot convince people. It is precisely because the miracle of controlling lightning in the tradition of the Guardians of the Faith can be amplified by the power grid spread throughout the city, that ordinary people can also witness the wonder of monks wielding lightning in their human form, and thus the faith of believers will naturally increase.

This increase is not unlimited, but compared to ancient cultivators who relied solely on their physical bodies to generate electricity, its growth rate is already quite exaggerated.

Not two or three times, but twenty or thirty times.

The stronger the physical body's resilience, the greater the power it can draw from the power grid.

At this moment, having successfully connected the copper wire that conducts strong current, the ascetic known as Leonir's power surged wildly, and his aura was fifty times stronger than ever before.

The ascetic, draped in lightning, rose like a god descending to earth and strode toward the werewolf.

"You blasphemous beasts, I can no longer tolerate your continued existence in this world that is under the Lord's care. Since you are unwilling to go to hell, I will bring hell upon you!"