Werewolf Hunting Rules.

Chapter 529 is the most useful.
Another day passed, and when Clayton returned home in the morning, the clock was pointing to five. The servants were getting up and busy with chores, but the newspaper deliveryman had not yet arrived.

Donna shouldn't be awake at this time, but she is, and she's waiting for him in the restaurant.

"It stinks." She said bluntly.

Clayton helped the Builder down in his chair and sat down himself. "This is the smell of a casino, but I'm perfectly clean; I didn't touch anything."

“It’s not clean to stay there too long,” Donna said listlessly, then handed over what she had written.

“A savings plan, oh girl, you’re so thoughtful,” Clayton said, casually tossing it aside.

"Aren't you going to take a closer look?"

Clayton took Clara off his head and placed her in front of Donna: "Darling, we don't need to save money; spending money is our duty."

"But didn't you go to the casino for the money?" Donna asked.

"I will handle this matter before April."

Clayton waved his hand; this was his final answer.

“You can teach Joseph something before his tutor arrives, so that he doesn’t really face his tutor like a slum kid.”

Donna pulled Clara, who had opened her arms, into her embrace and gently stroked her long, golden hair:
“I thought he needed more time to mourn his mother; studying wasn’t the most important thing.”

"Don't worry about it, Donna. Kids like him are tough. He lost several older brothers and sisters before his mother died. Oh, his father was the first to die, so he's got plenty of experience in that area. Sigh, I just can't handle it."

Donna's face contorted in pain upon hearing Clayton's words, maintaining a state of wanting to laugh but unable to.

"Speak, what else do you want?"

"Gone."

“That’s it?” Clayton looked at her in surprise.

“As your family, do I need any reason to want to see you often?” Donna retorted, her face stern and her eyes scrutinizing. “I didn’t see you yesterday.”

Clayton finally realized what was happening.

"I'm going home this afternoon, and I won't take Clara to the casino tonight. I'll stay home with you all tomorrow too."

He said this with a very strange feeling in his heart; Donna's expression made him think of a young Tritice.

It's scary.

Donna was not satisfied until Clayton made such a promise.

Her expression softened, and she smiled naturally: "Clayton, take another look at my proposal. It will definitely improve our family finances a lot. I've been studying it all day."

Clayton couldn't ignore this, so he picked up the plan and read it from beginning to end.

"The gardener can be hired only once every two weeks, the bathtub can be used less frequently, two servants should be dismissed—because there are too many of them—the number of times we go out to eat should be reduced, and the costumes that are no longer in use should be sold on the second-hand market."

The more he read, the more disheartened he became.

"Our family isn't that poor, is it?" he asked Donna earnestly, putting down the plan.

“I’ve compared our income and expenses. If we continue living like this, you’ll be bankrupt in two years.” This time, Donna put Clara on her head, her slender fingers interlaced to support her chin: “But if I don’t bring a dowry when I get married, it will be five years.”

Clayton sighed loudly.

He didn't actually think that extraordinary wealth was that important, but bankruptcy meant failure to some extent, and he didn't like failure.

"If you didn't consider this, why did you go to the casino? And why did you change jobs?" Donna frowned.

“Of course, it’s to rekindle the passion within me,” Clayton replied to his niece matter-of-factly. “I crave something more interesting, and a change of lifestyle is the simplest way to awaken that passion.”

Donna didn't say anything, but she stood up, her hands clenched into fists and placed on either side of her waist.

She maintained this intimidating posture for a while before sitting down again.

“Clayton, do you want to be Maurice?” she demanded.

"what?!"

Clayton's expression froze for a moment. "Oh! It's Maurice." "Yes, that guy who preaches in the theater that the pursuit of passion and beauty is supreme. What did you just hear?"

“I have a friend named Norris, which sounds a lot like Maurice, but they are completely different kinds of people. We had a little disagreement last month, but we made up quickly.”

Donna's expression softened a bit, and she became more curious.

She knew that Clayton wasn't seen as a nice guy by others, and she wondered what kind of people would be his friends.

"What kind of person is this Mr. Norris?"

Clayton thought for a moment, then leaned forward and lowered his voice, "If you've arranged to meet somewhere, go ahead and have some fun. But if you happen to spot him somewhere, you'd better stay away from him; he's more venomous than a cobra right now."

Donna frowned: "I didn't know that a cobra could be used to describe a friend."

The tension around Clayton vanished in an instant. He shrank back and his voice returned to normal: "He doesn't mind. And sometimes I think your mother is a bit like a cobra."

“Clayton, that’s my mom!” the girl exclaimed, her eyes wide.

They later had breakfast together.

Donna loves cake, Clara loves meat, and Joseph loves all sweets.

Clayton enjoys playing with the kids, and even their anger is funny—except for Clara, who really bites when she's angry, and very hard.

However, he still has work to do today and needs to go out.

Julius has taken over a pharmacy located in the parish and is now waiting for him to inspect it.

Clayton rode over, and as soon as he pushed open the door of the pharmacy, the bell on the door rang incessantly.

Julius stood behind the counter inspecting the medicine storage. The situation looked grim; the shelves were empty, and a large number of dark medicine bottles were tossed aside and rolled around on the floor.

“Only one-third is effective so far,” he said with his back to Clayton.

Clayton was already used to the wizard's psychic abilities. He stepped over a pile of garbage and walked to the shelf. The various pungent smells of medicine made him wrinkle his nose, and his enthusiasm gradually cooled.

"so serious?"

"Believe me, a third of them being usable is the most optimistic scenario; I still haven't finished checking more than half of them."

Julius wearily picked up a bottle full of liquid, glanced at the label, and tossed it to Clayton.

“Black Widow Venom,” Clayton read out the label.

"It's nonsense. If someone could actually squeeze such a large bottle of venom out of a spider, I have to say that with that kind of perseverance, there's nothing he can't do in this world."

The wizard turned around and stretched.

"Effective medicines can be roughly divided into four categories: tincture of opium, natural herbs, chemically synthesized drugs, and various alcoholic beverages that have never gone out of style, but even if you add them all up, they still won't fill two rows of shelves."

"It's more worthwhile to open a new pharmacy than to buy this junk for a thousand pounds."

Clayton put down the unidentified potion: "That's not how it works. The locals only trust the pharmacies they've always gone to, and it will take a long time for a newly opened pharmacy to gain their trust. I'm not spending money on this junk, I'm spending money on time."

Julius suddenly stopped moving, frozen in place like a sculpture.

In the quiet room, Clayton's unusually strong heartbeat could be clearly heard.

“Okay, I am a little unwilling,” the new shop owner changed his tune, his anger rising. “Where is that damn bastard? I’ll go and negotiate the price with him again.”

Julius shook his head regretfully: "I'm afraid he's already on the train."

He resumed his movements and continued to inventory the available medications in the stock.

Clayton didn't know much about medications, but he had experience being treated at the military hospital and could identify some of the useful ones. With his help, the inventory process sped up, and by 3 p.m., they had finally cleared out all the useful items.

Surprisingly, thanks to an unexpected gain, Clayton's investment actually paid off.

“Unbelievable, to find this stuff in a pharmacy. It’s probably worth four hundred pounds—if someone wants to buy it.” Julius tapped the outside of the head-sized glass jar on the table with his finger. The sound was extremely dull because it was filled with murky liquid.

A severed human hand is soaking in this glass jar filled with formalin.

This is a glorious hand.