The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 542 Time waits for no one
Clayton did not discuss the transformation with Donna again. He relaxed on his days off and then went out to meet her on the day of the duel.

The duel took place in front of the Big Treehouse bar, the very spot where he killed George Silver, whose dueling opponent was determined to pay tribute to the land with his blood.

As they approached the bar, the horses gradually slowed down.

Clayton reined in his horse and looked at the entrance to the treehouse with a puzzled expression. Two horses were tied to the lamppost in front of the door, which seemed to belong to the two people standing under the awning.

It was morning, and the bar was deserted; only the two of them were standing there.

One of the men was an elderly man with a haggard and thin face, strands of his half-length white hair plastered to his forehead, and a wiry body wrapped in a dark green cloak, as if he had just been caught in the rain. The other was an exceptionally tall man, not as tall as Clayton, but much taller than average, with the demeanor and mannerisms of a warrior.

Their eyes scanned the pedestrians on the street, and when Clayton saw them, they noticed him too.

After he appeared, they didn't look at anyone else.

Clayton dismounted, led his horse slowly forward, and tied it to the same lamppost.

The old man was probably George Silver's father. He thought to himself that he had actually arrived two hours early and wanted to sit in the bar for a while, not to drink, just to sit for a bit, but old Mr. Silver wouldn't give him that chance.

“Clayton Bellow?” The old man’s parched throat made a tearing sound like a fishing net being ripped.

Clayton nodded to him: "It's me. If you're not in such a hurry, why don't you come inside with me and warm up? It's only March, but the weather isn't quite warm yet."

For the elderly, it is still a time when they need to avoid the wind.

However, old Mr. Silver did not think so. He said coldly, "Sitting and resting with my enemy? Don't be ridiculous! You destroyed my beloved son and ended my family line. Just looking at you makes my heart burn in flames, and talking to you is torture! If you really have any conscience left, we can start our duel right now. Whoever lives or dies, I will no longer have to coexist with you in this world."

Clayton walked over and stood next to the warrior-like man; the three of them stood side by side under the awning.

“We’ve all arrived early, so the duel notary we invited hasn’t come yet. Let’s wait for him. However, before the duel, I would like to know if you know why your son is dueling with me, since we haven’t discussed this matter in our letters.”

Beside him, the old man took a deep breath and stood tall like a waterbird: "I know my son spoke rudely, but to punish him with death is too much."

"He began receiving instruction from the best tutors at the age of six, entered Bathmont School at thirteen, and went to the Royal Military Academy at eighteen, graduating with honors and being awarded the rank of captain. He had a bright future ahead of him, yet he died in this obscure little tavern."

The old man didn't look at Clayton when he spoke, but every word he said made Clayton regret his actions.

“I have some friends,” Clayton began slowly. “They started working in factories at six, became apprentices at thirteen, were kicked out by their masters at eighteen, and joined the army for money or to serve their country. No one had any hope for them. They did their best, and the outcome was indeed tragic, but their defeat in the final battle was by no means their fault, at least not this time. Yet some people want to completely negate their lives and even trample on their graves.”

"You think I haven't been on the front lines?!"

The old man roared and finally turned around to face Clayton. He unbuttoned his cloak, revealing his military uniform underneath.

The dark blue top was covered with horizontal gold ropes on the chest, and the cuffs were also sewn with gold thread. The Sphinx was engraved on the buttons in the middle row. The bottom was red trousers. This outfit was very familiar to Clayton.

"So you're an old cavalryman." Clayton nodded slightly to express his respect.

He could tell that the uniform was quite old. If Mr. Severn had participated in the front lines, it wouldn't have been the War of Loren, but rather the battle that took place in Maxley thirty years ago; the patterns on the buttons proved that.

It was extremely rare for a cavalryman to live past thirty. He never expected that there would be a second one standing here besides himself.

"Lieutenant Clayton Bello of the Torrent Guard salutes you."

“However, this raises a new question for me.” Clayton asked sincerely, “Since you know the hardships and contributions of the soldiers on the front lines, why don’t you tell your son this? Is he rebellious by nature and unwilling to listen to his father’s teachings, or do you think that since he has become a high-ranking officer, he will only need to stay in the command post, so it’s better for him not to know these things?”

Upon hearing Clayton's question, the old man stood frozen, clutching his cloak. After a long while, he closed his eyes, his body trembling.

"It's too late to say anything now."

“Yes, it’s too late to say anything,” Clayton agreed.

Mr. Severus did not leave, which meant that he wanted to continue the duel.

Even though he has admitted that George Silver was wrong, it doesn't mean that his hatred for Clayton will disappear.

Just as they quieted down, the tall man beside them suddenly asked, "You're not human, are you, Mr. Bellow?"

His gaze lingered on Clayton's eyes and black nails for a moment before he came to this conclusion.

Although the eyes could be explained by the use of atropine to dilate the pupils, and the black fingernails could have other explanations, he still sensed something deeper and chose to trust his first instinct.

The old man suddenly turned around and stared intently at Clayton.

Clayton knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth.

“I never use tricks in fair duels, not last time, not this time either, otherwise I wouldn’t have brought these things.” The werewolf reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of silver beads.

Those were five silver bullets.

"Here you go, this is what I prepared for you. You just reminded me."

The old man took the silver bullet, his gaze towards Clayton complex. "Only five, but I think that should be enough," Clayton said. "If we each fire five times and still fail to hit our opponent, let's consider it a sign from heaven that we should reconcile, shall we?"

Not killing is considered a form of restraint for werewolves.

“I think this suggestion is very reasonable,” the tall man said to Mr. Severn.

The old man nodded, then pondered for a moment, and looked at Clayton: "Tell me, where did my son fall?"

Clayton pointed him to the location, and the old man went over, knelt down, grabbed a handful of dirt from the ground, and carefully stuffed the dirt into his uniform pocket, not caring about getting his clothes dirty. Then he got up and returned to Clayton.

“I’ve changed my mind. We should duel in the style of cavalry.”

“Okay,” Clayton said.

"The duel took place not far from here. If you had listened carefully, you could probably have heard the gunshots."

“At that time, we mounted our horses and spread out on the deserted streets, about 80 yards apart. We waited for the witness to give the signal, then spurred our horses to charge at each other and fire. If we missed, we would charge back to the other's original position, reload our ammunition, and then turn our horses around for the next charge.”

“Unlike the lance duels between knights, we were at least fifteen yards apart at the closest point. Such duels were very common among pistol cavalry. It was difficult for us to aim on the bumpy back of our horses. In order to increase our chances of hitting, we had to wait until our opponents were close enough before firing. While waiting, we were also worried that the other side would fire first and hit us. Without enough courage, we could not engage in such a duel.”

"However, we haven't fought like this in a long time, and our skills have become a bit rusty."

"In the first round, I was too confident in my marksmanship and worried about my size disadvantage, so I fired first when I was forty yards away from Mr. Silver. As a result, the bullet went somewhere and luckily he didn't hit me."

"In the second round, the old gentleman fired first. The bullet missed me, but it hit my horse right in the head. I'm sorry, Donna, Socks is dead, and Cherry is without a companion, but I promise I'll bring back another horse later."

"The third round was the decisive one. The notary gave me another well-trained horse to prepare for the next battle. After the adjustments of the first two rounds, we had readjusted to this fighting style. This time we both hit each other; I hit him in the chest, and he hit me in the abdomen. I guess my liver should have a huge hole in it by now, but he died on the spot, so the duel was declared my victory."

In the bedroom, which had been unused for a long time, Clayton wanted to say more, but the bandage wrapped around his abdomen began to bleed. Donna hurriedly changed the bandage for him, and a servant immediately took away the discarded bandage with a pale face.

He found their expressions rather amusing.

Two maids had already fainted, and the servants were terrified. Otherwise, Donna wouldn't have had to treat his wounds. The tutor downstairs who taught Joseph also saw Clayton being helped back covered in blood, and his voice was still trembling.

It was just some blood.

To ensure a fair duel, Clayton gave his opponent a silver bullet and didn't even bring the [Otherworldly Gift] he won from Halcha, but that didn't mean he was unprepared.

Sir Jonard gave him a syringe with blood drawn the day before and transfused it back after his serious injury. This ensured that he would not die from his injuries that day. As long as he could survive until the next day when the silver's purification effect wore off, he would be able to regain his powerful self-healing ability.

Donna complained as she wiped the blood off him, "I really don't understand. He seemed to understand you, so why did he continue the duel?"

“He can understand me, he can respect me, but he can’t forgive me,” Clayton concluded.

Donna sprayed the wound medicine Julius had prescribed onto the wound and then wrapped it with a new bandage: "Sometimes I really wish everyone could think more simply, speak more frankly, and act more gently."

"I have a similar wish."

Although Mr. Silver had never met Clayton before, today’s brief encounter taught him a lesson—don’t be lazy while you can still teach your children, lest something unexpected happen to them in the future.

After a moment of silence for the short socks, Donna asked again, "And who was that old man's entourage? You said he seemed like a warrior. You're not going to duel him again next time, are you?"

“No.” Clayton raised his arm to make it easier for Donna to wrap the bandage. “That Mr. Franklin is Mr. Silver’s heir, but not his son. His inheritance rights are limited, as I told you before.”

"He is indeed a formidable figure—he is a knight of the High Rock Knights, with law enforcement authority in multiple regions. Severus brought him here to prevent me from cheating in the duel. However, he is mainly in this city for work. He is investigating the movements of a knightly order that was expelled from the Magna Carta, which means there may be rogue knights around Sasha City. If you want to go out, you'd better bring two companions with you. No, you'd better not go out at all, unless you come with me."

"The biggest event recently is the Dark Moon's arrival, so why are humans always causing us trouble?" Donna finished the bandage with scissors; her question wasn't as easy to cut as a strip of cloth.

"The Elder Council has been dealing with the Darkin, but it's not appropriate for the Darkin to interfere in human affairs."

Clayton switched to a chair with a backrest, leaned back comfortably, and had a servant bring over today's letters, which he wanted Donna to read and write for him.

I received quite a few letters today, and like the past few days, many of them were from people sharing their joy.

“Kerry, your friend Frank has joined the police force, as has your friend Box, and also your friends Smith, Farah, and Carter.” Donna looked on, increasingly puzzled: “Is becoming a police officer a trend now?”

"Among veterans, when the police are recruiting, veterans can be given priority in recruitment and their ranks can be restored." Clayton waved his hand: "Not only them, I already have thirty friends in the police force, and I even helped them quit drinking before."

Thirty?!

Donna was taken aback at first, then seemed thoughtful. "Kerry, have you considered using your influence at the right time?"

Clayton looked at her with a puzzled expression.

"For example, teaming up with your friends to do something really great?"

Clayton nodded: "I can't think of anything I can do right now, but maybe I can in the future."