Werewolf Hunting Rules.

Chapter 513 Return to the Other
Calling someone a "mad dog" is rather disrespectful.

The massive building stirred, and Clayton's extraordinary hearing allowed him to hear numerous questioning voices and the decisive sound of running footsteps. He nudged a young, still astonished member of the Witchcraft Guild beside him:
"Make the decision and let fate decide who lives and who dies."

The bewitched young man blindly obeyed his words and hid in a room before gunmen appeared at either end of the corridor.

Clayton leaped up, carrying the heavy "staff," dodging the spiritual light emanating from the palm of the naked priest of the Witchcraft Society. It was formless and intangible, like a gentle breeze, and could only be felt by the spirit, yet its malice was as substantial as a physical object.

Even though he managed to dodge it, another kind of magic invaded Clayton's mind, instantly wiping out his bloodlust.

Clayton was stunned for a moment, but the witch priestess did not hesitate; she turned and ran.

Clayton recovered quickly, not that he had shaken off the magic, but he understood that his actions were not to satisfy his bloodlust; it was a job, a demonstration.

Even if it means losing the thrill of the hunt, he will still complete this task.

Hearing the commotion outside, the doors of the rooms on both sides of the corridor opened one after another. Some guests who were unaware of what was going on peeked out, but after seeing the witch priestess running wildly and Clayton chasing after her, they wisely closed the doors again.

After the witch disappeared around the corner of the corridor, her guards rushed out to block Clayton.

As the number of people in front of him increased, Clayton also heard many footsteps approaching from behind.

Without a second thought, Clayton ripped off his jacket and flung it at the four gunmen in front of him to block their view. Then, he grabbed his cane, pressed his hands to the ground, and with a burst of power from his legs, his shooting figure and the swirling black jacket he had used to distract them arrived almost simultaneously.

Without even using a weapon, he spread his hands outwards and tore open the abdomens of a row of people in front of him, along with their clothes, with his bare hands.

As the claws ripped through flesh, Clayton simultaneously felt his abdomen being slashed, likely due to the magic. Ignoring them, he pushed past the wounded and charged forward, chasing after the lich priest. By the time his pursuers arrived, he was long gone, leaving only a few dying companions lying in pools of blood, their faces contorted with glee.

The brothel was laid out like a maze, but it didn't get Clayton lost; he followed the scent of the witch's ritual and rampaged through the maze.

But as the shaman screamed and summoned, the doors on both sides of the corridor opened one by one, making the corridor crowded and treacherous.

Hidden behind the door were armed members of the Witchcraft Society, who used the door as cover to lean out and aim their guns at Clayton.

In this stronghold of demon worshippers, the demonic influence began to take effect on Clayton.

He saw the corridor stretch out, seemingly endless, and the rooms on both sides began to multiply, densely packed on the walls like teeth embedded in gums. The people lurking behind the doors were also constantly being replicated along with the doors, emitting indistinguishable noises, some crying and some laughing.

Clayton is not good at dealing with illusions, but he can disrupt his opponent's senses on an equal footing.

Facing the corridor ahead, Clayton's face and neck began to grow muscles. He opened his mouth and took a deep breath, revealing two rows of sharp teeth. His already heavy chest swelled noticeably, and this partial bestial transformation provided enough power for his roar.

As the roar was unleashed, the pair of yellow, beast-like pupils emitted a captivating light.

Roar--

A noticeable tremor reverberated throughout the entire floor.

Even a deaf person can feel their body becoming lighter and their limbs going numb. But a perfectly healthy person—can become deaf.

However, the warriors of the Witchcraft Society were not seriously affected.

Their faces were flushed, their fingers trembled slightly, and that was all.

Their minds and bodies were briefly connected by magic. The werewolves' howls could shatter glass, but their power was neutralized by their overlapping and continuous mental states. Even the Evil Eye only made them hesitate for a moment.

This means that although their abilities are still within the realm of mortals, they still pose a threat.

boom!boom!
Two plumes of smoke erupted in the corridor; one bullet struck the wall, and the other pierced Clayton's shoulder.

Despite his injury, Clayton almost burst out laughing.

To avoid accidentally injuring teammates, the gunman who fired the shot was at the very front. The corridor was already narrow enough, and the open doors further blocked the view of the troops behind. They could only observe through the gap between two open doors.

The thick smoke of gunpowder has now blocked this gap.

He swiftly moved to press himself against the wall, then reached out and grabbed the nearest solid wood door panel, tearing it off the frame with his powerful, python-like arms, and forcefully pushed it forward across his chest.

The horizontal door panel is about three-fifths the width of the corridor, and its ends can just hit the doors on both sides that are opened at the same time.

Lacking ingenuity and skill, and possessing only brute force, Clayton charged forward like someone wielding a tower shield. Upon encountering this "shield," the opened doors slammed back against the frame, and the gunmen behind them were knocked down and trampled in turn.

The gunmen behind tried to fire with trembling fingers, but they either missed or hit their own teammates.

More than thirteen people had their bones crushed and were rendered unable to fight.

The demon finally disappeared from Clayton's sight, indicating that the person who released the demon was among the gunmen. He turned back and spent some time killing them all, then picked up his cane and continued to track down the priestess through the bloody path.

The prey he was tracking was now running shakily, with intermittent gunshots coming from behind.

While the power of Inat to influence the mind is indeed formidable, it is not a force adept at direct combat. It is only when facing societies and groups that possess reason and logic that it can leverage the trust between them to exert its terrifying effect.

When there is only one enemy, Ainate's magic becomes less effective.

Her trusted maid rushed down the corridor and was grabbed by her.

"Go around and lock all the passages from the courtyard to the sanatorium area. Then notify the werewolves who are sleeping with prostitutes in those private rooms. There's a werewolf here waiting to be dealt with. Don't forget to tell them it's not from the Conionne family."

The maid nodded and hurried away, while the priestess, catching her breath, headed down another path. She was going to the most secluded area of ​​the building.

dungeon.

This brothel, disguised as a workhouse, not only housed a sanatorium but also a dungeon.

It was built by some horrible rich men in the Friendship Society to satisfy their own desires. It holds all sorts of beautiful prisoners—the sister of a high-ranking officer, the illegitimate son of a black-clad priest, and even the youngest daughter of a nobleman.

The frequent disappearances in the cities and countryside of Weaude are not only due to the Friendship Society hunting down Darkin and dissidents, or gang feuds, but the Lich King is also an important participant.

Besides the goods, the dungeon also held all the illegitimate children born from the ritual.

These chimeras inherited the power of their parents. They are physically strong but born with low intelligence. Tormented by the curse, they are aggressive towards all living things around them. Only the magic of the Inat can control them.

Now, they, along with their parents, must come out and fulfill their obligations to the Witchcraft Society.

The bizarre chimeras were released from the dungeon, flooding the surface corridor like a stream of water.

The Friendship Society played a fire-fighting plan in the North District, and the Witchcraft Society, with its reserves, may well be able to do the same thing.

Every chimera born from a demonic ritual flows with poisonous blood. Werewolves cannot rely on them to absorb vital energy to heal their injuries; instead, they can only continuously deplete their own reserves.

A gigantic, blood-red crocodile, a python with both scales and feathers, and an orc with a tiger's head—the bizarre chimeras are mixed in with a familiar-looking human-faced bat, the very creature that appeared as the "Bishop's Chess" in the fire-to-fire plan.

This is not surprising; evil creatures and demons are always inseparable.

It remains to be seen whether the Friendship Society would have adopted a fire-fighting strategy without the secret interference of the Witchcraft Society.

However, turning his attention back, Clayton stopped the chase. He listened intently and heard Julius's coded message in the footsteps of the pursuers behind him.

Yes, Julius also broke into the brothel.

Clayton asked him for help, and this "asking" is very important, especially since Clayton had not yet paid the reward he had mentioned earlier.

There was no plan this time; both of them decided to play it by ear and see how things went.

Clayton walked straight into the stronghold, while Julius followed him, staying with him and the Witchcraft member all the way to the brothel, where he stood on the outside trying to figure out what to do.

The voice we're hearing now is the code for our agreed-upon meeting.

Clayton glanced at the road ahead, but ultimately decided to turn around and rejoin Julius.

On his way back, he happened to run into his pursuers at a corner. The close-quarters battle was nothing special; it would have been strange if Clayton hadn't managed to kill them.

When I saw Julius, the wizard was standing with his hands behind his back in front of a door, his smug expression back.

“Clayton, although you have a lot of enemy blood on you, if you ask me, you are not sensitive enough to danger. If I had intended to set an ambush, you would be dead by now.”

“Looks like you have an idea,” Clayton said calmly.

Julius raised his chin: "I think you can smell a faint sweetness right now."

"You mean ether?"

"Knowing its name and still rushing in for hand-to-hand combat, it seems you only have a superficial understanding of its abilities. That's why I said you definitely need an advisor to help you."

The wizard took a step to the side, turned around, and opened the door, revealing a variety of medicines displayed inside.

A wide variety of drugs are displayed on multi-tiered shelves, with ether being the most common, potentially amounting to dozens of gallons.

"See these things? With so much ether, why should we risk fighting the Witchcraft's Musketeers?" Julius's lips curled into a cruel smile, a glint of fanaticism in his eyes: "We can kill everyone on this floor before they even see us."

Although ether is a highly effective medical anesthetic, it is not given much attention by the medical community as a whole.

The Church has existed for too long, and the priesthood that holds the power of healing miracles once monopolized medicine for its own benefit. Only heretical alchemists and dark wizards dared to touch this sacred realm.

This led to various problems arising in the development of medicine as it broke free from the constraints of the church.

For example, extreme elitism and idol worship.

Many doctors rigidly follow in the footsteps of great pioneers, unwilling to make any innovations. They are completely unaware that those great pioneers were mostly extraordinary individuals, and some gaps are destined to be insurmountable.

Any shortcomings were attributed to the doctor's own incompetence. In Dorne, a land renowned for its alchemy, the development of medical devices was hampered by this mindset. To this day, no one has considered using a mask with connected tubing for ether delivery anesthesia, or storing it in a small vial and simply twisting it open near the patient's nose when needed, or covering the face with a damp handkerchief. In this process, even the doctor could accidentally inhale ether and faint.

Nobody thinks this is a problem.

What do you mean you fainted along with the patient after inhaling a little ether? You're not qualified to perform surgery on that patient at all!
Only third-rate doctors would give up improving their skills and choose to compensate for their lack of medical expertise with external aids.

Julius happened to be a third-rate doctor, so he had a deeper understanding of ether. He knew how to guard against it and how to prepare it. He even carried a vial with him.

Even a tiny amount can still have an anesthetic effect after it evaporates.

This Witchcraft stronghold stored a large amount of ether, not only because they wanted to experiment with technology stolen from Orlanster, but also because the Witchcraft traffickers needed this anesthetic to abduct people.

Now it's time to let them try the effects of this anesthetic themselves.