The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 536 The Return of the King of Curses

On the joyous day of the Holy Trinity, even the clouds in the sky knew not to spoil people's mood, so they all gave way and let the sun's brilliance shine down completely.

The parish of St. Bernide was unusually lively, with people strolling on the outdoor streets from the second floor.

On this beautiful day, Clayton Bello was feeling terrible.

In the middle of the night, he felt his skin tighten, as if something was filling it. In the early morning, his teeth started to ache, and his bones felt light, as if they were being pulled upwards by threads. By daybreak, his fever, which had started due to his misguided cultivation path, spiked again.

Fortunately, he had the foresight to send all the stewards and servants home on holiday. Now only his own people are in the house, and even the tutor has taken some money to go out and have fun. He doesn't have to expose his weakness to them.

The only change was that his breathing was exceptionally smooth, even smoother than when it was at its smoothest before.

Because the night of the full moon is always unsettling, it's difficult to determine how much of the discomfort is due to the effects of the wrong path, but there have never been so many reactions before. It's probably the secret power interacting with the curse. Clayton felt his guess was probably correct, and if he was already in this pain during the day, it would be difficult for him not to go mad on the night of the full moon, perhaps even earlier.

He dragged his deck chair through the back door into the garden, intending to spend half a day lounging in the pleasant fragrance.

But Donna's scream came from upstairs.

"Kerry! Kerry!"

Clayton's eyes first brightened and then dimmed after hearing the scream.

Recognizing his niece's voice, his hunting instincts, stimulated by the scream, receded again, but he didn't slow down at all. In less than ten seconds, he appeared in front of Donna's bedroom door.

The door was open.

Donna was still wearing her nightgown and barefoot, seemingly having just woken up, but she looked extremely excited.

She stood by the window, hopping and beckoning Clayton over. When he came over, she gripped his arm tightly, and Clayton could feel her trembling and sweating.

She pulled him down, making him squat down to her height, and then pointed to the sky with her free hand so he could look up.

"There it is, do you see it? That little black dot!"

Yes, Clayton saw it.

He looked up and saw a tiny black dot starkly embedded in a corner of the blue sky. It was very, very small, but once you noticed it, you couldn't ignore it.

He looked at it and felt a strong tremor run through him, his blood surged like a tide, and his heart roared in his chest.

“It’s the Dark Moon! The King of Curses has appeared!” Donna whispered, trembling.

At the city library, Elder Cheryl, who was always carrying a book, unusually got up from her seat and went outside to get some fresh air.

She looked up at the sky, her eyes filled with solemnity.

The roadside trees twisted and swelled as if alive. A few seconds later, Gloria's body broke free from them. Strangely, the pedestrians on the roadside passed by without any surprise, as if they had not seen this strange scene at all.

“This isn’t the first time,” she told Cheryl.

Cheryl turned her gaze from the sky to her: "But this time is different from before."

“Indeed, even I have never seen it in such a powerful form.” Gloria’s face was solemn, showing no composure of an immortal, because the scene before her was beyond her comprehension: “It can even appear in broad daylight. I have only heard of such celestial phenomena in ancient times, when all the curses were more powerful and more twisted.”

“We need to have a meeting,” Cheryl said.

“I am talking to them about this now.”

Gloria's movements froze for a few seconds before she resumed.

"Meeting at 3 PM, same place as always." After saying that, Lin Jing's temporary body withered rapidly and finally turned into ashes.

When her other body made the same farewell at Jonrad’s mansion, Elder Fisher, shrouded in black robes, happily raised his glass to the knight, who had been a guest there all evening.

"I sensed it two hours ago, but I thought it was just my old age and my nerves were failing me. I never imagined it really was the Dark Moon. Congratulations, old friend, your time has come!"

His aged, mottled skin hung loosely on the old ghoul's hideous face, yet it couldn't conceal his sincerity.

With the Dark Moon descending, the power of the Darkin will undoubtedly grow stronger, but in reality, it was he who congratulated Ser Jonard, a human, and the sergeant did not refuse.

"It actually happened in my lifetime, so I knew that fate would still be on my side!"

Sir Jonard had never looked so happy. He stood up, raised his glass in response to his old friend, but instead of drinking it, he poured it onto the table.

Expensive red wine soaked through the tablecloth and dripped onto the floor.

There was no other reason, it was simply that someone who would be frequently wielding a sword in the future should no longer drink alcohol.

Even though he was no longer afraid of the dangers of alcohol, the habit still existed in his heart.

"The Dark Moon brings chaos, and times of chaos are the birthplace of heroes. This is not only my time, but also our time."

Des Joanrad tossed aside his empty glass, braced his hands on the wine-soaked table, lowered his head, and took a deep, greedy breath, as if to encompass everything within his strong chest. Iron-gray blood spread through his exposed veins, carrying immeasurable power.

With the return of the Dark Moon, powerful individuals who do not belong to any faction will emerge in this world. Heroes will rise to prominence through their own strength, treating the nation as their hunting ground. Arrogant bureaucrats and merchants will rediscover their rightful place and bow down to the true elites and lords of the nation.

There is no place for the weak on the stage; there are only heroes fighting and uniting.

What could be better for Jon Raard than this?
Recovering from his euphoria, he looked up, grinned, and gave the ghoul a cruel smile: "Fischer, my good friend, what trouble have you been up to lately? I need to warm up before getting down to business."

The ghoul smiled and shook his head.

“I have no enemies, Desce. You know what I want. If you want to fight, there are plenty of ways to do so later in the night. The Dark Moon is so powerful that many of my offspring were already out of control last month due to its influence. Now that it has fully descended, there will surely be many more crazy and powerful newborns. Our people cannot keep up with them.”

"I really hope they appear soon," Jonard prayed fervently to the Dark Moon.

Joe Manny enjoyed a good meal and drinks at Clayton Bello's house, only to find out after saying goodbye that getting back to the Parish of Saint Solot wouldn't be easy.

Although he had gotten used to the light at night after taking care of those kids for several months, walking at night was still unsafe, so he found a cheap hotel to stay in. His mornings were not peaceful, as the hotel owner and cook's screams and various shouts and banging noises woke him up.

When he went downstairs, he realized something was wrong. The hotel owner was crying, cursing, and jumping around on the first floor, while a group of people surrounded him. Every now and then, a head would come close to him from the crowded area, but would quickly retreat.

Joe Manny went closer and saw an iron pot stuck firmly in the hotel owner's hand.

Or rather, it was bitten on the hotel owner's hand.

This most ordinary tool had grown a face, and with its crude mouth it fiercely bit the palm in front of it. The metal sheet pierced the palm, causing it to bleed profusely. No matter how others pulled it, it refused to let go.

what is this?
Is it still daytime?

Joe Manny was momentarily bewildered, thinking he was still dreaming.

"Someone, please save me?!"

The hotel owner clutched his hand and cried out. His voice was very weak. He was far from dead, but he had already shouted many times before, and his throat was hoarse.

The people around him looked at him with a mixture of pity and amusement. Of course, there was also shock at seeing a moving pot, but no one was really afraid of a pot to the point of running away. Some people ran outside and shouted, calling their friends to come and see this strange sight. As a result, more and more people gathered around the hotel owner, and a line had already started to form at the door.

A Moriel worker came over with a hammer to try and help the hotel owner out of his predicament.

Although he was short, he was a strong man. He swung his arm and struck the pot. The pot dented, but the innkeeper screamed even louder.

"Don't knock, it's biting even tighter!"

The workers had no choice but to stop, disappointed.

"Let me try?" Joe said, almost as if possessed.

In terms of his knowledge of the occult, he actually only had experience dealing with those little devils, but he felt he should give it a try.

People made way for him, and he pulled the hotel owner to the kitchen, picked up some vegetables at random, and stuffed them all over his head into the pot.

Having eaten enough, the pot seemed to realize it no longer needed to be so fixated on the piece of meat in front of it, and so it readily let go of the meat.

When the metal shard was pulled out of the wound, the hotel owner breathed a sigh of relief, and the surrounding audience erupted in uproar.

The wounded soldier's wife brought him a bottle of tincture to relieve his pain. He grabbed Joe Manny with his good hand and vowed to repay him. Joe Manny then asked him to donate some food to the training school where he worked.

The crowd around him asked him how he came up with the solution to the live pot. If this were publicized properly, Joe Manny could very well become a famous occultist. And given his past behavior, he would definitely stay and try to show off, but today he suddenly felt that he shouldn't waste too much time here.

Having escaped the crowd, Joe Manny quickly left the hotel and hailed a carriage to take him directly to the Parish of Saint-Solot.

On the way, he felt nervous, and his body was trembling.

This is strange.

Because he doesn't remember anything happening that should make him nervous.

It's the holidays now, so he doesn't need to teach at the girls' school. At most, he'll do some community service in Father Petty's district.

Joe couldn't understand why he had been so nervous the whole way back until he returned to the training center and saw the four small corpses covered with white sheets lying in the back yard.

The black-clad priests dug the pit with shovels, and Louis, who had been punished to suffer, was also working. Father Petty stood beside them, his handsome face, which was disproportionate to his age, was full of fatigue, and his skin was unusually pale. He was clutching a string of prayer beads and praying for the deceased.

Joe's arrival did not elicit a reaction from him, nor did Joe intend to disturb him. He simply found a shovel and joined in digging the hole.

These children are all of Dark Index, so they can't even have their funeral photos taken.

After the bodies were properly disposed of, Father Petty nodded to Joe.

"The celestial phenomena have changed. The power of the Dark Moon has suddenly intensified. Three of the children who died went out of control because they couldn't withstand the curse of this upheaval. One of them killed a child who hadn't gone out of control, but fortunately, it was discovered in time. Because their abilities were too dangerous, our guards had to deal with them. We must be more careful from now on. Their nighttime outings are now halved, and they are not allowed to go out on full moon nights. All windows are boarded up to prevent them from secretly drawing back the curtains to let in moonlight."

He told Joe a lot, not caring whether Joe could understand, he just explained everything in one go, and then left in a hurry without giving Joe a chance to mention the revitalization of the iron pot.

Father Petty seemed to be in very poor condition.

Joe understood; no one would feel good after something like this happened.

He turned to look at Louis, who was still standing by the grave. Although it was the first time he had seen Louis, Louis was the only person whose name had been added to the list of personnel at the training center recently.

"Mr. Louis, do you know Lieutenant Clayton Bello?"

“I know him,” Louis said.

Joe noticed that Father Petty was sharing secrets with him, which was unusual. Adopting a Darkin was not a sin of apostasy, but it would severely damage the priest's reputation within the church. Even the Yellow Light Society would not support him doing so, and if this were exposed, he could very well be stripped of his priesthood.

Perhaps they knew each other before, perhaps Father Pete persuaded him, or perhaps he was simply someone who didn't reject Dark People.

He will be visiting you soon.

"Ah."

Louis said nothing more; he stared at the graves of the young Darkborn, his face expressionless.

He was probably grieving for them too. Joe didn't say much to him, but he could already tell that Joe was someone he could get close to.

These graves, as was customary at the training school, had no tombstones, and Father Petty did not mention the names of the deceased. To this day, Joe still does not know who they are.

He didn't want to actively seek out the armed clerics to ask their names, as that would deeply associate those names with tragedy in his heart, and he felt like crying right now.

The faces of those rascals kept flashing through his mind; he couldn't bear to forget any of them.

"Maybe I should wait until later to see which rooms are empty," Qiao thought, secretly worrying about the remaining children.

Father Petty said that the power of the Dark Moon had increased, and such accidents would likely happen more often in the future.

They were either inside or outside the vocational training center.

What a bad time.