Werewolf Hunting Rules.

Chapter 495 Awakening from Dream
“Times are changing, Ventra, and they keep getting worse. I wonder what kind of degenerate we werewolves will become,” Maxim said sadly, though he wasn’t old enough to be unable to leave the house yet.

Though not yet old, the elder, no longer young, strolled beneath the castle at night with a woman only slightly shorter than him. The castle was not yet fully restored, with layers of scaffolding erected on one side. This was Conionnai's family property. The woman was not Conionnai, but she also had an inextricable connection to the castle; the newly added traps and mechanisms were her creation. She smiled at her employer and old friend:
“Maxim, you are a wolf as tenacious as a rock. You have served as the clan chief and also left the clan to make your own way. Now you have returned and can serve as the clan elder. If you can end your life with one more fierce battle, it will be a perfect life. Why worry about the future?”

Maxim replied, “I will die, but the clan should not go with me. The new members of the clan are too young and inexperienced, content with the status quo of relying on the hop economy, and unwilling to leave Bodarabik. Even the older generation is either spoiled by their pampering or has become senile because of wealth. This is not the way of the werewolves. How can I not worry?”

"The original ancestors of werewolves sprang out of wheat fields. Our blood has a connection to the land that is no less than that of humans. I don't think they did anything wrong."

“What you say always makes a lot of sense, but times have really changed.”

Maxim stopped and turned to face the family's imposing castle. He stretched out a hand and gently touched the outer wall. The summer sun had just set, and the rough bricks still carried the warmth of the day. The castle's shadow fell like the embrace of the Night Mother.
The sound of the moat flowing in his ears, its gentle trickle never ceasing day and night, just as Maxim had heard in his youth, but it and the thick walls could no longer bring Maxim peace of mind.

"Night Howl Fortress. How many people still remember that name?"

"This project has been going on for two hundred years and is not far from completing the original design of our ancestors, but what can it still protect?"

Maxim's nostalgic gaze climbed upwards to those towering, magnificent spires. Moonlight shone on the gargoyles along the edges of the towers, washing away their menacing aura: "By the time I was born, advanced artillery technology had already rendered this type of castle obsolete, and bastions had become the new mainstream. These tall watchtowers could only serve as targets, and when they collapsed, they would bring disaster to the people inside the city."

"It would be very easy to transport the cannons over. The southerners have built a railway. Once they land, they only need to travel a few dozen kilometers to bring our castle within range."

Hearing this, Ventra spoke up: "I feel like you're implying something to me, but things are getting complicated now. The Druids are all watching."

She looked rather embarrassed when she said this.

Maxim turned his head and stared at her blankly: "I didn't ask you to dismantle the railroad. You should know what I mean."

“Haha.” Ventra suddenly burst into cheerful laughter, spreading his hands as he did so. “Sorry, just kidding. I thought this would make you feel better. I may not be good at saying comforting words, but if you want to upgrade your castle, I can offer some solutions. Even the trendy bastions, I know how to design them.”

“This is no longer about the castle,” the new elder of Conionnai shook his head. “Even if we build a stronger castle, more powerful cannons will soon follow. We are still building Nighthowl Castle, but not for its military purposes. It is only of value to us as a tribute to our ancestors and the power we once possessed.”

Ventra put his hands behind his back and looked around the magnificent castle with Maxim.

"I don't understand. Conionai has coexisted with humans for a long time. Catapults, sailing ships, gilding techniques, greenhouse cultivation—these weren't there from the beginning. Why can't we accept them now?"

“The subject did not change, Ventra, the subject did not change at that time.”

Maxim said, "Human administrative systems were learned from werewolf clans. Kings, lords, and priests were simply given different names and put into practice, with only slight changes to the military system. Even court etiquette, birth and death rituals still retain traces of various rituals from the First Empire, which are terrifyingly barbaric to some people."

"In the past, the only changes humans made to the world were changing the werewolf's hand-sniffing greeting to a hand-kissing greeting."

"But now, humanity has gone mad. Every class acts on its own, without any reverence. What fills the void in their hearts has changed from faith to money, and even kings tremble at the feet of money, willing to relinquish their authority in order to earn more, not to mention lords."

"Does that include the monarch of Conionne?" Ventra turned his head: "The Duke of Conionne seems to still control everything in the city. He can stir up trouble with just a word. No one dares to defy him. I have seen it with my own eyes."

“Yes, that includes him,” Maxim said, his eyes turning cold. “A monarch has the obligation to protect his subjects while wielding power, but he refused.”

"The function of managing land was handed over to the civil servants of the municipal government. In order to encourage trade, the dock fees of Bodallabic were abolished. The work of checking smuggling was also handed over to special people in the city. They also blocked the imperial edicts of the private nobles under their command, and did not allow us to leave our names permanently in the Blue Blood Book. As long as his family line died out, we would all be degenerated into commoners."

"The Weiodi family has fallen into depravity. The Duke's only son is so arrogant and dissolute that he is sickly and has only one heir. His only son is even worse in this respect. He only studied abroad for four years and returned with five sexually transmitted diseases at the same time. He does not consider the harm that his vassals would suffer if he were to die out due to illness."

"I can no longer accept such an irresponsible person as our monarch."

“That does sound terrifying,” Ventra agreed. “But what else can you do about them? Your social relationships still have a hierarchical structure.”

Maxim replied, “The Weiodi family has lost its ability to pass on its legacy and is no longer suitable to be our monarch. When the uncorrupted new generation is born, we must remove the diseased branches like a gardener pruning a tree and bring the new shoots under our control.” “This is a long-term plan; you must be careful of unforeseen circumstances.”

“I will. As long as the clan needs me, I will live on and personally eliminate these accidents. And you, Ventra, how are your children? Have they inherited your blood? If we live not far apart, perhaps our clans can unite.”

"No, Maxim, I asked a witch friend to seal the wolf blood in him. He doesn't know he's a werewolf yet."

Ventra's answer clearly shocked and displeased Maxim.

He frowned: "Why do this?"

“To make him happy, to make him act like a human being.” Ventra spoke as if he were about to pick two wolf peaches to eat.

This recklessness enraged Maxim, his green eyes flashing with a cold light: "Just because of this? Do you have some grudge against the blood flowing in our veins?"

She doesn't treat werewolves as one of her own, which is just as infuriating as her choosing the human who took her in in the first place.

A jumble of thoughts flashed through Maxim's mind like shooting stars, but none of them changed the ease and tranquility that had always been present in the woman before him.

"No, I just realized that I'm not suited to take care of this child. I might go on a long trip or study at any time. A long trip for a werewolf is even longer for a human. It's not easy for his father to take care of a werewolf from childhood. I also don't want to send him to another werewolf family. It's harmful for a child to always think that he is different from others in society. When he grows up, he will find that he can do very little, and those differences that he was once proud of may hurt the people around him, making him unhappy."

"Even if this means your descendants will never be able to join our ranks?" Maxim's voice was dry.

Ventra gazed at a protrusion high on the outside of the tower, illuminated by the moonlight, and subconsciously tiptoed, as if wanting to jump up.

"It's not forever. There's a possibility that the Sealers can break free of their seals, and I helped a very great prophet kill two people, and he paid me with a prophecy—that a hundred years from now, my descendants will experience the union of two wolves, one hidden and one false, but their offspring will surely regain the power in their bloodline."

"Fake?"

“It’s probably a werewolf’s offspring who didn’t inherit the wolf blood.” Ventra shifted her attention, a barely suppressed smile appearing on her face: “The prophet even told me where they got married, so I’m going to move my family to a place very, very far away from this area, and then we’ll see if this prophecy comes true, and whether there is an unstoppable fate pulling everything together.”

"Do you even believe in the prophet's prophecy?" Maxim couldn't help but question her, even though she was the fullest moon in his heart.

"Well, actually that's not the main reason. It's just that some of my enemies are hunting me down, so I need to lay low for a while. This job will be the last one I do in Weaudi."

"Ah, Ventra, I really don't know how to describe you. You make enemies as fast as you walk. But I still wish you all the best."

"Well, maybe we'll meet again in the future."

“Then there’s no need,” Maxim said.

Then the vibrant world before his eyes shattered piece by piece. He woke up in his room as usual, cold and wet, his vision blurred and gray, the smell of blood from leftover meat filling his nostrils, his body both extremely strong and extremely weak.

He let out a sigh like the wind blowing from a coffin, reminding the werewolf beside him that he had awakened.

The werewolf knelt respectfully on one knee: "Elder, the summoning ritual is ready. Shall we wait for the chieftain to return before holding the ritual, or shall we begin now?"

"Wait for the clan chief to return."

Maxim's chest heaved a few times as he called out to the younger colleague who was about to leave.

“You must remember that even if our ancestors return, Opiros will not relinquish his position as patriarch, and it is important that everyone continues to respect him.”