Werewolf Hunting Rules.

Chapter 521 Seeing the World Through the Opening
The sound of teeth piercing fascia and crushing bones was only a wall away from Loretta. She slowed her breathing and moved slowly to the other side of the corridor, but couldn't help turning back to look at the huge werewolf that had first poked its head out from behind the corner of the wall.

In order to eliminate Clayton Bello in one fell swoop, she sent out all her men, resulting in almost no obstacles between them now except for the werewolf's blindness.

The werewolf's eyes were covered in flesh and blood, and its left paw was also fixed to its face with strange flesh and blood, its posture was contorted, but it did not give up its pursuit of Loretta.

It tilted its head and listened to the sounds coming from the dungeon.

Excessive blood loss also affected its hearing. It could hear its own pounding heartbeat more clearly than any other sounds in the environment. All other sounds seemed dull and lifeless.

The dungeon of the Lich King's Guild did not appear any dirtier than the sanatorium above. After the entrance, apart from some rooms with special purposes, it was equally clean and white, and there was an electric light at intervals. It was just that the werewolves could not see how beautiful it was.

Clayton was losing blood, and eating could only temporarily slow his continued weakness. He would need more time to begin healing his wounds, but he couldn't wait any longer.

There were many people here, and the werewolf knew they were harmless. It could sense their weak aura and the pervasive, decadent smell of blood.

In terms of violence, the followers of the Inath are not powerful, but their skills in taming humans are terrifying.

The intense, twisted spirituality here was so palpable that even a werewolf like Clayton, who lacked any special spiritual talent, could clearly sense it. When those forbidden spells were being unleashed, they were enough to send chills down the spines of any intelligent being.

Power is not only destructive force.

The prisoners in the cells along one side of the corridor held their breath, peering through the iron bars on the doors to observe the werewolf's movements. They could see it covering its eyes with one hand and dragging the half-corpse of some unknown creature into the dungeon with the other, chewing on flesh and blood as it went. Blood oozed from four wounds on its back, leaving a long trail of blood.

The wolf's tail, now soaked with blood, was no longer fluffy but dry and thin, dragging unconsciously behind it, its shadow like a sharp knife.

Loretta moved cautiously down the corridor, her movements as she dodged the werewolves resembling a silent film, which was enjoyed by the audience in the safe zone.

Humans' deep-seated aversion to other species makes the captives, like Loretta, fear being noticed by werewolves, yet they are unwilling to give up the sights that bring them pleasure.

They wanted to see Loretta—the woman who had caused their kidnapping and endless torment—eaten by werewolves.

Both predators and prey were completely naked, as were the prisoners in the cells. Although there were many high-tech products here, it did not prevent the place from being filled with a primitive and savage atmosphere.

The blind hunter probes for the silent prey; the situation remains unclear.

"It's just ahead, take ten steps!" A male prisoner in a cell shouted at the werewolf, overcoming his fear, regardless of whether the werewolf could understand him.

Clayton certainly understood.

Its black body suddenly darted out, as nimble as a rabbit.

Behind it, the prisoners, seeing the situation, cheered for it with clear minds and shouted out Loretta's location. Those who had been huddled in the corners with numb faces also opened their eyes and regained their spirits amidst the exhilarating cheers.

The dungeon suddenly became incredibly lively.

Seeing the prisoners' revenge, the witch priestess of the Witchcraft Society cursed inwardly. She infused her mind with a tranquilizer, temporarily erasing the effects of fear on her body. Her heartbeat and breathing remained calm. Without making a sound, she took two quick steps forward, dodging the werewolf's claws and disappearing from the prisoners' sight.

The militia members of the Friendship Society had just been released from prison, and there were many empty rooms here, which she could hide in.

Clayton couldn't see it; this was the last legacy Abigail left her.

Immediately following, the werewolf's breathing came from the side outside the cell, heavy but with a hint of weakness that didn't fit the impression.

Loretta sat in the dimly lit cell, squinting at the blinding light shining from outside, planning in her mind that once the werewolf crossed this place, she would return to the surface to seal the entrance and imprison the werewolf in the dungeon.

Time moved so slowly that she could almost count the grains of sand falling from the hourglass, and the werewolf's head finally reappeared in her sight.

The beast's head turned towards the cage, its black face shrouded in shadow, and its massive body, slightly hunched over, blocked the light from the electric lamp, making the already dim cell even more difficult to see.

It should have been blind, but Loretta saw a deadly yellow glimmer.

It saw her!
The werewolf bent down, about to give Loretta her final fate. This action finally allowed Loretta to see its face clearly. Its right eye remained closed, and its left paw was covered by grotesque flesh and blood, also in the position of covering its left eye. The flesh and blood created by Abigail connected nerves, and the pain caused by destroying it was unbearable even for the werewolf. However, it made a terrible move to bypass this mechanism. Its right paw raised its index and middle fingers and pierced into its left paw, which was facing outwards, creating a through wound directly in front of its left eye. Then, the two fingers, one above and one below, pried open the flesh and blood around the wound.

The yellow wolf eyes peered out through the cracks in the flesh of the palm.

"So that's how it is!" Loretta exclaimed in realization.

The last joy this witch priestess felt in her life came from the satisfaction of her thirst for knowledge.

The battle between the police and the Witchcraft Society was coming to an end, and Julius had never felt so satisfied.

The Witchcraft Society was clearly stronger than the Royal Police, but he secretly cast spells, turning strong individuals into weak ones and manipulating the balance of power. The police won a resounding victory.

He emerged from his hiding place and reminded Albert that they should go and support Clayton next.

When the main force arrived at the brothel run by the Witchcraft Society, it had become very quiet. Half of the huge building was blackened by flames, and in the intact half, only a small number of windows had lights on, but no one could be seen behind them.

A naked man sat on the ground next to the building, his tall, muscular, pale body standing out starkly against the backdrop of the building, his left eye covered.

"My God, he has four bullet holes in his body!" a policeman exclaimed.

Julius went up to his employer and learned that the matter was settled.

“There’s a dungeon down here, and a lot of people are locked up inside. You’d better go check it out now,” Clayton told the police.

The prisoners of the Witchcraft Society were quickly released. There were more of them than the police present. Many of them cried with excitement, some even kneeling down and kissing the ground. Others excitedly told the police stories about werewolves, completely unaware that the man sitting next to them was the werewolf they had seen.

Albert took off his coat to give his shirt to Clayton, but Clayton believed that what he needed to survive in human society was trousers, not a shirt. None of the policemen were noble enough to generously offer him their trousers, and besides, he would have to walk a while to get his trousers back, so the matter was dropped.

The frequent battles not far from the camp caught Opiros Conrionae's attention, and he intended to send someone to investigate. However, the approaching Elder Council airship in the sky made him wary.

He had already dispatched a patrol team, and it would be unwise to further disperse his fighting force at this point.

Ten minutes later, Clayton Bello retrieved his clothes and equipment.

Forty minutes later, thanks to Weodie for continuing the public carriage service late into the night, he and Julius returned to the inn in the southern district. Joseph was already asleep, but upon hearing their voices, he immediately got up to light a lamp for them.

Clayton needed to have surgery. He sat in a chair, with Joseph holding a lamp beside him. The wizard used the light to observe the blood-red substance on his face, which looked like a network of thick blood vessels growing on the surface of his body: "This stuff is deeply connected to your body. We should have reserved some ether beforehand so that it would lessen your pain when we cut it open."

He wanted to wait until daytime to replenish his medication, but Clayton was unwilling to wait even a moment longer; his determination to regain his sight was just as strong as Abigail's.

"Just use the knife, it's better than me doing it myself."

Julius rinsed his horn dagger with strong liquor, then slowly sliced ​​through the bloody substance. From Clayton's pained reaction, he sensed the substance's extraordinary nature.

"It has established a neural link with you. This looks like a combination of secret and magical techniques. I dare say it wasn't originally intended as an offensive method, but rather a medical technique. Abigail must be trying to use this magic to transplant someone else's healthy eyeball into herself."

“She can’t do it,” Clayton asked through gritted teeth, his cheek muscles hard as iron.

"Oh, by the way, a female werewolf from Conionne asked me to tell you to write to her as soon as you get home."

"Ah, you've seen Lydia." The werewolf's expression softened somewhat.

Julius followed the ancient barber's way (the earliest surgeons were barbers who also performed bloodletting on patients), chatting as he performed facial surgery: "I don't think her family is very welcoming of you. When did you two get together?"

Clayton, with half a piece of flesh torn off, answered him:

"On the very night that the Friendship Society and Conioni officially clashed."

"Damn it, while I was gathering intelligence and developing drugs, you were flirting with women, or even fighting a bunch of Darkin? You're something else!"

After making that remark, Julius remained silent for a while before awkwardly speaking, "I remember you said before that you would teach me any skill you possessed?"

"That's right."

"I want to learn how to deal with women."

Even with a dagger slashing at his face, Clayton couldn't help but laugh. This topic instantly pulled him out of his heavy thoughts, allowing him to examine the young man he'd known for some time: "While I'm not proud of it, I do have a lot of experience dealing with women, but only with lovers. When it comes to experience in pursuing true love, I'm still lacking. A young man like you should still have some pursuit of true love, right? Do you really want to learn that from me?"

"Of course I want to pursue true love, but no matter what, I at least need to know how to win her over, and you are the only person I know who is very popular with women."

"Judging from this, you already have someone you like. Not every woman likes the same things. Perhaps you should first tell me what kind of person the woman you like is; age is a very important factor. Tell me, how old is she?" Clayton spoke eloquently.

"Fifty."

Julius shyly revealed the first piece of information about his crush.

Clayton was speechless with shock until the surgery was over.