Werewolf Hunting Rules.

Chapter 509 The Art of Rebirth
“However, these two things are different, Hazel.”

Julius took a few more breaths, and finally spoke in a clear, uninterrupted manner. "We can't take him down, but you really have a chance to take me down."

"But I didn't do it, and I can't do it now."

Hazel looked up and saw the Elders' commercial airship still hovering in the air, its overall outline blending into the night, its color indistinguishable, while the lights at its base flickered, like adding a star to the night sky.

It was just a clear sign that Heiser had no chance to kill Julius from the moment he escaped from the Basby Building.

As long as the news can't be kept under wraps, Julius will send the enemy's name back to Sasha City.

Perhaps this old classmate wasn't well-liked by his father, but if Groene really knew he died at Heiser's hands, Heiser's value would skyrocket—in the kind of way that's calculated by weight.

"Maybe so, but I'm a petty person. If revenge is like a business transaction, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, then the resentment I have in my heart should be exchanged for something else."

Julius led him into a dark alley, and when he stopped, he pointed the gun down and pulled the trigger.

As the smoke billowed, Hazel fell to the ground, clutching his left leg and groaning in the corner.

The gunshots were incredibly loud, but nobody came to join in the fun. In this place where the government was inactive, associations and gangs ran rampant, and monsters fought each other, people were as wary as wild animals.

Hazel is isolated and helpless in the society he helped create.

“Now I’m going to collect some interest.” Julius took a few steps back and squatted down to load the pistol, while his psychic awareness also included Hazel.

"Tell me what you think I need to know, and if I'm satisfied, you'll live."

After the painful groan subsided, Hazel wearily released his injured leg and slowly sat up, supporting himself with his hands on the ground.

"I don't trust you." His voice was much hoarse.

“Maybe I should swear an oath, but I’m too lazy to do it.” Julius used the scouring pad to press the lead bullet firmly, again and again. “Say something. I don’t really want to chat with a man on such a beautiful moonlit night, but that’s just how it is. We have to put up with this bullshit. It’ll make us both feel better if we say it.”

"Okay, but I need to stop the bleeding first."

Julius coldly rejected the idea: "No need, it's fine as it is. With a time limit, people's minds will work faster."

Hazel looked up in despair and sighed, "Julius, you're a damn bastard."

The insults were just a way to vent his anger, but he still gave in.

Where should I begin?

"What about local associations? I'm quite interested in associations, but you'd better tell me more," Julius suggested.

“Okay.” Hazel lowered his head and leaned against the wall. “There are fourteen societies in the North District involved in mysticism. When we recruited the guards, we made it clear that we only wanted superhumans. No one in this city would go against money, so almost all the societies sent people. But you know, most superhumans rely on secret teachings, and secret teachings are hard to verify. So those who consider themselves superhumans also came. We just need to ask them about their special abilities, and they'll bring up a bunch of their personal beliefs. So, it’s quite easy to count them.”

Julius nodded, signaling him to continue.

"These fourteen associations did not arise from nothing; in fact, the vast majority of them developed from paganism and heresy, which is related to the nationality of the workers."

"So they're actually mini-cults?" Julius brandished his pistol.

Hazel leaned against the wall and shook his head laboriously: "It's not that formal. These society members don't even qualify as priests in their own belief systems. The supernatural powers they 'possess' are either a misunderstanding or they can only operate through some rare items they obtained by chance. Some even performed magic tricks for us. Only a very small number of people actually know how to obtain supernatural powers. Calling them a club for the poor might be more accurate."

"Some associations really did develop from clubs."

"However, they are not without their own threats. I suspect that some of these societies are branches of other, truly large societies. For example, the Charming Candy House seems to be a Druidic business—otherwise, it's hard to explain how they can get their hands on so many natural addictive drugs and cheap sugar-making ingredients."

Julius raised his chin: "Have you asked Gregory about this?"

"No, I won't mention it at all, otherwise if he says yes, we won't be able to do anything about it."

Hezzel paused, then his face twitched again from the pain.

Julius pulled out a cigarette and a matchbox from his pocket and tossed them to him. He lit one with his dusty hands, took a deep drag, and his complexion improved.

"High-end goods".

"Really? I don't usually smoke."

Hazel wasn't much better off with that answer, but the cigarette did give him a slight boost.

"Weiodi's four districts appear to be independent, but in reality, they are very closely connected, relying on the transfer of benefits between associations. Associations, unions, and gangs are all birds of a feather. Under the control of the government, they form an invisible society, but they do not have the power to confront the government. As soon as they are exposed to the sunlight, they will automatically melt away."

He looked lost in thought: "That's how it should have been."

“It should have been,” Julius chewed on the words, “so it isn’t now.”

“No longer,” Hazel said. “I went to see Conione today for this very reason—the Witchcraft Society is strong enough that it can now connect with the Weodie Society. We need Conione’s help.”

“Have you ever heard of a place called The Nest in the West End?” he asked Julius.

Julius had certainly heard of it; he was staying there for the past few days.

"Have heard a little bit."

“Other cities have their own dens of iniquity, but the Lair is special. It’s built underground and offers all kinds of services similar to those of the upper class. There’s even a golf course inside. Letting the poor experience the life of the rich is the first step the Witches’ Society takes to lure others into their ranks. The Lair is clearly a property of the Witches’ Society.”

“I watched the battle at the eastern border last night, so when the Witchcraft Society showed up, I knew something was wrong. The fact that they dared to attack our people shows that they have grown very powerful.”

"They've now taken over the North and West districts, and they're expanding their membership through their hideouts and brothels. Weaudi has two million people, and those who have participated in the Witchcraft Society may already exceed one percent of the total population. It's a huge group. If this continues, they could all vote to support their own people in important government departments."

If the Darkin are considered to be on par with the Dwarves, then the Demon Worshippers are like bedbugs and fleas.

Allowing such people to wield real power, even just one, would be a terrible disaster.

Julius's face twitched involuntarily; Weodie was even dirtier than he had imagined.

"Then why don't you just use the government's resources? You hold a public office in the government now, don't you?"

"Security advisor," Hazel said, "what good is that?"

“The government in Weiodi is a complete mess. Every official does things for personal gain. If you want to know what they do, don’t look at their titles, look at their family background first.” “Because I was an important employee of the Bassbe family, I used to be able to do some things. But ever since Conionne’s massive attack on the riverside factory, they’ve basically killed off all the good guards who knew how to obey orders. Now I have to turn to these ambitious hounds and beg them to clean up this mess.”

"As for why I didn't seek help from other members of the Friendship Society, it's because I don't know how many of them are trustworthy, and the Witch Society is also corrupting them."

“Those mortal fools are afraid of the Darkin’s revenge, so they invite clergy to their homes every week. But at the same time, they are worried that the clergy will find out about their twisted hobbies, so they simply move their pleasure to the North District. There is a secret brothel in the North District, which is ostensibly an almshouse, but in reality, it is where they gather and have fun. They always go there late at night and only bring their confidants.”

“Prostitutes, pretty boys, and opium are the bare minimum. Worse still are eating cod and taming animals. These amazing old fools have such peculiar tastes that they spare no expense. Even if the Witches’ Society didn’t seduce them, I believe the Angels’ Cult, which worships abominations, could have abducted them.”

"In order to evade the constraints of religious morality, they inadvertently threw themselves into the pocket of the witchcraft society."

"And some people are willing to do it."

“I know that those arrogant superhumans make them feel threatened. No matter how much wealth they have, they can't make up for the pride that comes from pure power. In this situation, they are eager to find ways to acquire superhuman power, but they are unwilling to endure hardship, so they have to seek the magical rituals of demon worshippers.”

Hezelton paused, suddenly noticing something subtle in Julius's eyes in the dim light.

“You know what? You remind me of someone,” Julius said.

Another person who couldn't find anyone trustworthy in Weaudi ended up having to seek help from an outsider like Julius, a member of the Kingdom's intelligence department.

Hazel, unaware of his thoughts, simply followed up with, "Is that so? Who?"

"It's nothing, he was killed by your men."

“That’s a real shame.” Hazel took a drag of his cigarette, smoke billowing from his mouth and nose.

Julius shook his head almost imperceptibly: "As far as I know, after you left the Friendship Society's command center, they made the decision to deal with the Witchcraft Society. Don't you think that contradicts your conclusion?"

Hazel took the half-burnt cigarette out of his mouth, looked at it, and then stubbed it out on the ground beside him. The extinguished flame dimmed the light in the alley, and he could no longer see Julius's face.

“Julius, we are all Dornish, we are all men, we are all wizards, we all belong to Stellaris, but that doesn’t stop you from pointing a gun at me now.”

Julius snorted and didn't continue the conversation.

"Tell me about the prophetess from the Temple of Truth. I want to know why they sent her. Prophets never used to travel this far."

The Prophecy Academy also falls under the category of magic academies. It only admits students with strong prophetic talents. Julius's talent is not yet qualified to enter, and he also doesn't really want to get involved in magic that requires blinding one's eyes to begin learning.

Hazel gasped for breath. He could barely see the scenery before him, but the dampness on his trousers indicated that the bleeding hadn't stopped on its own. He quickened his pace: "Someone I know told me that the Truth Council came for Orlanster. It's said that the Orlanster family's self-developed Blood Secret Path [Shedding Skin] can repair severed limbs. Perhaps they want to repair their eyes."

Due to the limitations of mental strength, a prophet can only make a limited number of prophecies in his lifetime. Using psychic knowledge instead of sight also consumes energy, reducing the number of prophecies they can make. Restoring sight can reduce the energy consumption and allow the prophet to make more prophecies.

Even setting aside any calculations of self-interest, it is only natural for a blind person to want to regain their sight.

"Has Orlanster agreed to share this technology?"

“I don’t know, but Abigail is still in Weodia, and maybe they’re still negotiating.”

Hazel's condition suddenly deteriorated rapidly. Julius frowned, took out a vial of healing medicine from the many pockets of his trench coat, and rolled it on the ground.

"Pour it on your wound."

Heiser almost impatiently unscrewed the stopper and poured the liquid inside onto the wound.

"Thank you," he said weakly.

"Then tell me more."

After a few more breaths, Hazel spoke again: "I think they didn't reach an agreement, so the Manifesto is considering other ways to achieve its goals. When demanding payment for the prophecy, they didn't ask for money directly, but instead asked our people to contact the Holy Grail Order, probably hoping that the Alchemy of Life could make up for this deficiency."

Julius gave a silent, cold laugh.

The magical technique of limb regeneration is a closely guarded secret; it's a service that money can't buy.

Furthermore, he was also familiar with the technology of the Holy Grail Order. The limb regeneration magic mastered by the Order was similar to creating prosthetics made of flesh and blood, but it still required extraordinary mental strength to control, which did not meet the needs of the prophets.

If the limbs manufactured by the Holy Grail Order were connected using only medical methods, these prosthetics would die within two days because they are not flesh and blood born from a living organism, but rather products of chemical synthesis.

The magic that can truly regenerate one's own flesh and blood is actually something that demon worshippers excel at, and magical breasts are the most successful example of this.

Thinking about this, he suddenly felt that he had caught a glimpse of inspiration.

"Did the Witchcraft Society steal some secret knowledge from Orlanster?"

Hazel was silent for a moment before speaking: "That's possible. My master recently gave me an order to deal with a secret club that operates among the servants."

"This club is called the 'Loyalty Club,' and only servants of the rank of personal male servant can join. The condition for joining the club is to reveal a secret of one's master's household. In order to act covertly and capture everyone in it, my investigation is not progressing very quickly. If this club is being used by the Witchcraft Society, then a lot of things will make sense."

At this point, he looked at Julius with a hint of surprise.

If Kumo Basby hadn't suddenly visited the safe house owned by his master's other identity, exposing the problem of the address being leaked from the servants, this organization could probably have remained hidden for much longer.

Julius's ability to deduce it so quickly made Julius feel envious of his keen prophetic talent.

Julius, who was envied by Hazel, crouched in the darkness, his figure resembling a half-dead tree trunk.

Suddenly he moved.

The pistol was pointed at Heiser again, and then fired a second time.

This time it's still the left leg.

Hazel rolled in the mud with his left leg tucked in and groaned.

Julius blew away the gunpowder smoke from the muzzle and stood up, supporting himself on his knees.

"Alright, Hazel, I'm done being angry. You're free now. Go see a doctor."

He put the gun back in his pocket, beaming: "But I advise you not to try to fully heal this leg injury in the future, because I'll be very happy to see you walking with a limp."

(End of this chapter)