Werewolf Hunting Rules.

Chapter 530 Full Schedule
The most effective and useful consumables here are actually magical artifacts.

A pharmacy should obviously not be like this.

“Take it with you, consider it your salary for this quarter,” Clayton said wearily.

They sorted out all the legitimate medicines, and they could only fill a seven-tiered shelf, the one behind the counter. Sixty percent of them, which sounded very advanced and scientific from their names, were just different flavors of tincture of opium upon closer inspection. The remaining half consisted of poisons and veterinary drugs, with very few medicines for human use.

It's hard to say whether all these medicines together are worth a hundred pounds.

The werewolf shrugged, as if to express helplessness, or perhaps simply to raise both hands.

"We definitely can't open for business for the next two weeks." Julius tucked the jar under his arm, intending to move it to another location.

Clayton raised his hand to cover his face, pressing his thumb and middle finger against his temples: "You can brew some medicine in the alchemy room first, enough to cure minor illnesses. As for the shelves in the left and right corners, you can use toothpaste, soap and cosmetics to make do for now."

He stopped there, his heart heavy with unbearable pain. The thought of exchanging a thousand pounds for this rubbish made his stomach burn like fire.

But this price is the market price, and only someone with medical knowledge like Julius knows that this place is all junk.

Moreover, the people served by this pharmacy do not have medical knowledge.

Its market value is also determined by these people.

If Clayton operated the same way the previous pharmacist had, this price wouldn't be a loss; in fact, it could be considered a bargain.

The truth is just that absurd and laughable.

“The Druids should have a lot of high-quality herbal ointments. Maybe you can use your connections to get some cheaper. I can give you a commission,” he told Julius.

The wizard looked troubled.

“Uh, I’m not a druid, my mother is. You know who she is. Only she can talk to them.”

“What’s the difference? You are his/her son.” Clayton paused once.

“The Druids don’t recognize me, and I don’t really want to see her these days, so don’t expect me to mention it to her.”

Seeing his expression, Clayton initially wanted to use his own example to persuade him to reconcile with his parents as soon as possible, but then he thought about it again. Groene didn't know how much longer he could live, and Julius probably wouldn't be in a hurry either.

“You must feel terrible that your father suddenly became your mother.”

“Yes. I’m only now realizing that I’m just another shallow human being.” Julius said irritably, holding the glass jar of Glorious Hand. “Just like everyone else, I develop feelings for fixed images rather than inner qualities. After I got used to seeing him as my father, he suddenly turned into a woman. And her social identity is registered as my sister. I really don’t know how to face him now.”

elder sister?

This is too much!

Clayton had nothing else to say but to comfort him: "Think about your lover who is over fifty. I believe you can overcome your biased perception of her."

“Oh, she looks no different from someone in their twenties, and she’s beautiful, which is another piece of evidence of my shallowness.” Julius revealed another piece of information about his mysterious lover.

"Of course, what I truly love is her wisdom and refinement," he added.

Clayton was speechless.

However, this at least proves that the male wizard is mentally sound.

While he was silent, there was a sudden knock on the door.

Clayton pushed open the door and went outside, where he saw a rapidly shrinking figure in the distance, and a piece of paper appeared on the wall next to the door.

He ignored the person. On the paper was a thin human figure that looked like it had been carved from stone. It had no face, and its body lines had a somewhat feminine quality. There were two lines of text below it.

"The origin of all things, the mother of ruggedness."

"The magma is her surging blood, and now the ley lines have awakened."

It looks like a propaganda poster for some kind of pagan religion.

He tore off the paper and went back into the store.

"What the hell is this?"

Julius frowned: "The Rugged Mother, that's the goddess of the Earth Mother Cult. Her main rival is the saint worshipped by the miners."

Clayton had heard of the Earth Mother Cult, but knew very little about it.

"Are they a cult?" That was all he cared about. If the Earth Mother Cult was a cult, he would start taking action. His home was nearby, as was Donna's school, so this place needed to be cleaned up.

"Paganism used to be considered a cult. The problem with the Earth Mother Cult is that they worship stones and are often mistaken for Druidism by ignorant people. Don't keep their things; the church will come to inspect them repeatedly, which is very troublesome."

“Since the church hates them so much, why don’t they just wipe them out?” Clayton asked, holding up a leaflet.

"Now we advocate freedom of belief, so doing this is called religious persecution."

"What extraordinary abilities do these people possess?"

“What kind of superpowers do you need if you’re an idiot?” Julius retorted, then carefully stroked his quarterly salary behind the counter.

"There aren't many people in the Earth Mother Cult, and Sasha City isn't a good environment for proselytizing. The only thing they can be associated with is that abandoned mine outside the city. Last time, many black market organizers died there, and the military's explosion burned away a lot of the toxic gas, so it's currently unsupervised. The miners who believe in the Earth Mother Cult probably think the time has come and want to reopen that mine. They think there's still minerals down there, just hidden very deep."

"To be honest, that's unlikely. People who don't see mining as a religion would never invest in this project. They know that themselves, which is why they've started proselytizing recently." So they're here to attract investment.

Clayton tore the propaganda paper to shreds.

“This is the parish of St. Benedetto, they’ve really gone to great lengths to advertise here,” Clayton remarked.

Alum is produced near Sasha, a versatile mineral used in both papermaking and synthetic dyes.

The establishment of Sasha City, nicknamed the "Book City," is inseparable from its local alum mine. The reopening of that mine would certainly be a good thing, creating at least four hundred jobs for Sasha City, but he himself would never invest in it; it was far too risky.

Just as he sighed, Julius suddenly spoke up: "Bello, have you thought about another way to make money lately?"

It seems everyone knows Clayton is short of money.

Strangely, despite Clayton's unparalleled prowess in combat, he still felt that the amount of wealth he possessed affected his social standing and success, especially since this sentiment came from his own employee.

Clayton leaned against the empty shelf behind him, carefully choosing his words: "What do you know?"

“Know what?” Julius seemed not to understand what he was talking about. “You can’t be short of money, can you? We robbed so much silver in Weodie, and Elder Jonard promised a reward. I got nine thousand pounds from him.”

Nine thousand pounds. Clayton's pupils dilated, and he licked his lips: "I'll take a rare metal ingot for my ascent, and the rest to pay off my debt in Ghevo."

Julius paused, then said thoughtfully, "Oh—that's not surprising."

As an alchemist, he had heard of the special metal material the knight possessed; this laboratory product was unique and priceless.

As for debts of gratitude—nobody wants to be indebted forever.

"So why did you ask me that question in the first place?" Clayton raised his hand twice, then finally stroked his beard.

“My path to ascension is now clear, and the price for hiring me after spring will be much higher.”

Clayton was still stroking his beard, not mentioning whether he should continue to hire Julius: "I'd like to make more money, but if you have a way to make money, why don't you do it yourself?"

"Because I can't do it."

Julius pointed to his head: "This deal is about memories. Do you remember the ancestral memories you saw during the binding ritual? That's what the buyer wants. He's a deep historian, which means he studies things that aren't recorded in history books or that he thinks are wrong. And the era he mainly studies is more than a thousand years away from the present."

"It would be best if someone who has witnessed history firsthand could answer his questions, but he couldn't find an old person who was willing to be interviewed and was of such advanced age, so the Darkborn who could obtain the memories of their ancestors from the cursed ritual became a secondary option."

“You seem to be accepting the results of the last ceremony well, with no signs of things getting out of control. Perhaps we can try holding the ceremony again, and if we’re lucky, we can sell more memories. He’s very willing to pay for these historical materials, and based on what you told me before, earning a hundred or two pounds shouldn’t be a problem.”

Julius's suggestion was spot on, and Clayton was somewhat tempted.

It's not just about the money.

He learned the skill of concealing himself from Ventra Aster, the ability to unleash the Evil Eye from Saga, and his experience fighting as a wolf can now be put to use.

The price he had to pay was nothing more than a diet with no taboos and some insignificant shame.

He doesn't know what he'll gain if the ceremony is held again.

"Wait until after this full moon," he said.

Snapped.

The door to the pharmacy was slapped again.

Clayton paused and looked toward the door with Julius.

No one came in.

This reminded them of the people who had just handed out leaflets for the Earth Mother Cult.

The werewolf tilted its head, listening intently to the sounds outside, but this time there wasn't even a footstep.

The person who knocked on the door did not leave.

"Is anyone home?" someone called from outside the door.

He walked over and opened the door. Standing outside was a gentleman a head shorter than him, looking at him with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I saw the sign, but my youngest daughter is sick and needs medicine urgently. I also heard noises coming from inside. I'm so sorry, could you please give me some cough medicine?"

Before Clayton could speak, Julius, standing behind him at the counter, had already picked up a bottle of Poli with mint in it.

"8p."

Clayton stepped back to let the father in to make the deal. The father paid the money, turned to leave, but couldn't help looking back at Clayton a few times.

"Sir, are you Clayton Bello?"

Clayton nodded, puzzled.

Upon receiving his affirmation, the gentleman appeared extremely surprised and excited, clutching the newly purchased medicine in one hand and Clayton's sleeve with the other.

"My youngest daughter's name is Lant. She goes to the same school as your daughter and even shares a dormitory with her!"

Donna clearly didn't hide what her uncle looked like from her friend, and Clayton was a man whose appearance and physique were not easily matched, so he recognized him at a glance.