Werewolf Hunting Rules.

Chapter 520 Helping out
Julius finally understood why the prophet had run away.

Unless one is a superhuman, there are very few mortals who can be faster than her. Compared to her, Hazel's speed is no different from that of a tortoise.

Staying put would only make her a weakness for the guards; running away is the only correct choice.

“She’s always on the go, as if she never needs a break,” Sheriff Albert once remarked of Abigail. Clayton relayed this to Julius, but Julius never took it seriously.

Who would have thought that the seemingly ridiculous fact that "Abigail is used to exercising her legs" was actually true, and became the final obstacle for him to defeat her?

Julius was absolutely furious.

Clayton fought valiantly behind him, but because he wasn't good at running, he lost sight of his most important goal. If that's the final outcome, he should find a rope or simply end his failed life with his own dagger.

He frantically moved his legs, gradually closing the gap between them.

One fled, the other pursued, and their positions were rapidly closing in on each other to the south.

In just a few minutes, they will reach the West District.

Sheriff Albert and Abigail's men are both in the West End.

Once they reached the West End, things would get complicated. Sheriff Albert would still be on Julius's side, but he couldn't just stand by and watch Abigail be murdered in front of him.

Strictly speaking, Abigail has never committed a crime, and the kingdom's laws cannot punish her.

Julius could see that the prophetess was currently in a state of mental derangement due to her divination of Clayton Bello. He had only received a little wolf blood and had already been affected by the werewolf curse. Abigail, on the other hand, had directly touched the root of the curse. The effects on her were equivalent to a newborn being transformed. The more she divined against beings capable of reversing prophecy, the more her sanity was damaged.

This is why prophets cannot rely on their prophetic abilities to personally go out and accomplish great things.

Their "prophecy" is built on their own vulnerability.

Julius also made a prophecy about Clayton Bello, but fortunately, he was not gifted in prophecy and had his father's help, so there were no serious consequences.

But even with these disadvantages, Abigail still couldn't catch up with Julius.

People with mental disorders seem to always be able to push their physical limits.

The power of the wolf blood gradually cooled within her body, while Abigail's figure grew smaller and smaller in her field of vision.

Julius almost thought he was going to fail, but Abigail stopped.

There was nothing in front of her, yet her face was filled with despair.

The feeling of death had enveloped her.

As Julius caught up with her, a chill suddenly crept up his spine. He looked up following his senses and saw several tall figures standing on the rooftop of an apartment building overlooking the street, their green and red eyes gleaming.

It is Conionne.

The northern district is Conionai's territory, so they naturally patrol it from time to time.

But this time it wasn't a coincidence.

"Elder Defoe, is she the broker Valvaldo mentioned?" A loud voice rang out from a green-eyed woman named Conionne, who stood at the front. "A blind woman, yet she managed to contact so many extraordinary individuals and assist the Friendship Society in establishing its Guard?"

One of the red-eyed Conionones spoke wearily: “I think so, Lydia, she is from the Temple of Truth. The power of the prophet is always great.”

"What are we supposed to do?"

“We just need to stay here.” The red-eyed Conionne, known as Elder Defoe, looked at Julius with scrutinizing but not hostile gaze. The chill Julius had just felt was merely an outward manifestation of their hostility towards the prophet. “Let them handle this themselves. The divination says it’s the best way.”

Like Julius, Abigail also heard their conversation, and then let out a chilling laugh.

"Hahaha, let's do some divination!"

She laughed so hard she was doubled over, a typical symptom of mental disorder.

Julius should have been delighted by what was about to happen, but in front of Conionne, who was scrutinizing him from both sides, he suddenly felt uneasy, as if he were no different from Abigail. So he quickly slit Abigail's throat.

The prophetess, who had lost an eye and a hand, slid down his chest to the ground, resting in a relatively dignified state.

“Alright, now let’s go take a look at the East District,” Elder Defoe said.

"And who is he?" Conionais and the others looked over again.

The green-eyed Conionne leaped off the roof, grabbing the protruding decorative balcony railing for leverage as she landed unharmed in front of Julius. Despite being a woman, she was a head taller than Julius.

She sized up Julius, her nostrils flared slightly, and then her expression softened.

“You know a yellow-eyed werewolf, don’t you?” she suddenly whispered. “Tell him to write to me as soon as he gets home.” With that, she turned and leaped back to her companions, explaining to them how insignificant Julius was.

great.

Julius thought to himself.

Clayton Bello really does have friends everywhere. The Friendship Society is one thing, but he clearly remembers the Black Claw Clan and Clayton being at odds, yet now Conionne is still thinking of him.

The idea that he could ask these werewolves to help Clayton attack the Witchcraft Guild flashed through the wizard's mind before being dismissed.

He could tell that the female werewolf didn't want her relationship with Clayton to be made public. Clearly, Conionne wasn't entirely friendly; she and her fellow werewolves operated in groups, and bringing it up now might actually be detrimental to their cause.

He quickly pulled out a pen and paper from the many pockets of his trench coat, wrote a few words, and then threw the pen and paper together into the air.

"Friends of Conrionai, please do me a favor, and I will be very grateful afterwards."

The werewolf who recognized Clayton reached out and grabbed the wad of paper.

“He knows us, so I think his generous reward should be worth something,” she said, turning to her companion.

The werewolves disappeared behind the roof; the prophet's death satisfied them.

Julius tilted his head back and suddenly noticed that the Elders' airship seemed to have gotten a little bigger.

The North District Witchcraft warriors, with lanterns hanging from their waists, searched for Clayton's figure. Although there were only 12 well-trained soldiers among them, including the other werewolf hunters and Witchcraft members, there were a total of 29 warriors dealing with the blind werewolf.

Everyone had a ferocious look on their face and was fearless in the face of death.

This is because Loretta was angry, and she shared this feeling with everyone.

She wasted ten minutes on Alexander Elevin, not only failing to gain any strength but also preventing her most important ally from receiving timely support.

What pained her most was that she had enough power to tame the werewolves, but that power was wasted on the Friendship Society militia.

This brothel had been operating for several years, accumulating a wealth of emotions from both its customers and the prostitutes.

The pleasures of depravity are the secret to taming wild beasts, but Clayton proved her worth too late. When the first clash between the werewolves and the Love Society ended, she decided it was time to step in. So she led her men to forcibly take a group of prisoners from the Love Society's militia for conversion, completely exhausting her accumulated "emotional wealth."

Clayton's appearance made her begin to regret her actions.

These soldiers were good, but they were still just ordinary people, and she considered this kind of consumption a waste.

Loretta never blamed herself; it was all Clayton Bello's fault. Her revenge against the werewolves was extremely fierce.

The remaining members of the Witchcraft Society came out in full force, and everyone who could pick up a weapon participated in the hunt. They intervened in the battle between the blind werewolf and the two guards of the prophet, and four silver bullets representing holiness and purification struck it from behind, saving the only remaining guard of the prophet.

The wounded werewolf disappeared into the night, its black fur serving as camouflage.

But it's only a matter of time before the Witchcraft Society finds it.

It can hide itself, but the deep red bloodstains left on the ground cannot be concealed.

The werewolf was severely injured; its blood was so thick it could be used as a bath. Anyone with normal vision could not ignore the flow of its fluids.

The soldiers followed the trail of blood, moving south.

The werewolf was injured and blinded, but it still possessed a speed that no bipedal animal could match, leaving them far behind.

This is not surprising. When hunters hunt large animals, even if they hit the target with a single shot, the prey may remain vigorous for a period of time, running for several hours before dying.

Werewolves are unusual beasts with human-like hands that can pry silver bullets out of wounds and then wait for the curses in the wounds to reassemble, healing them with extraordinary regenerative abilities—if the silver bullets do not hit a vital spot.

It sounds like even if the hunters of the Witchcraft Society spend a lot of time chasing after it, they might still encounter a werewolf that has recovered to its full strength.

But please don't forget that more than half of the night has already passed.

Even after its wounds heal, it can only use a human body to fight off hunters.

The werewolf hunters were experienced in this kind of task, and they confidently led the rest of the group in a cautious search. However, their focus on the severely wounded werewolf caused them to overlook some things they should have been wary of.

This led them into the West End, where they bumped into Sheriff Albert, who had rushed over after receiving a message from Julius—and not just him, but a group of officers.

The battle begins.

The continuous gunfire stopped after twenty seconds, and the soldiers on both sides drew their swords and clubs and charged at each other, replaced by shouts.

They were locked in a fierce battle, with no energy left to ponder where Clayton Bello had gone.

No one expected that this capricious guy, after going around in circles, would drag his heavily injured body back to the North District Witchcraft Society's lair.

Clayton said the prophetess must die, but he didn't say the organizers of the Witchcraft Society could be spared.

Loretta remains his target.

Furthermore, this choice was not simply a risk; there was another reason he returned.

There is meat here.

Large quantities of cooked meat.