The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 543 Taking orders in times of danger
On the afternoon of the day of Clayton's duel, Miss Charlotte came to visit him—unaware that he was injured; her main reason for visiting was that she had found a medical student he wanted.

Charlotte was shocked when she entered the study and saw the terrible wounds. She first greeted Clayton, and after confirming that he was not dead, she hurriedly went out to wait.

The young man, on the other hand, was a man with a vivid imagination. Upon seeing Clayton, whose upper body was wrapped in bandages, in the exquisite study of the large house, he immediately imagined a scenario of "a wealthy man concealing his illness and secretly seeking a miracle doctor." When Clayton said that he really just needed a pharmacist to mind the shop, he appeared very disappointed.

Donna didn't leave because she needed to keep a close eye on Clayton's wound. She curiously observed the young man, since opening a pharmacy was the first good thing she had encouraged Clayton to do, and she felt she also had a responsibility to supervise and manage its progress.

But as her surname suggests, Donna was an absolute beauty. Upon seeing her, the poor medical student was immediately captivated by her gaze, and he became distracted while talking to his real employer. Clayton noticed all of this, and as soon as the guests left, he called Donna over.

"Donna, you should have realized that you are a charming girl. Beauty is not a fault, but you should be careful not to let it become your downfall, especially not to use it as a tool to order people around."

Thinking that he might die, Clayton began to speak like an old man.

Donna was surprised to learn that she possessed this ability for the first time.

"What if someone is willing to be at my beck and call?" she asked with great interest. There are always such knightly figures in stories who swear allegiance to a noblewoman but ask for nothing in return.

“Don’t bully idiots,” Clayton replied.

Donna laughed several times in a very unladylike voice.

"Of course, you also need to learn to refuse others. You need to think about this now, otherwise if some fool suddenly kneels down and proposes to you, you won't know what to do. If you agree to it without knowing how to refuse, then you'll be even more foolish than a fool."

Donna stopped laughing and said seriously, "Oh, rejecting a proposal? I have a lot of experience with that."

Clayton straightened up, his eyes instantly transforming from those of an old man giving his last words into those of a warrior who, even in his dying moments, wanted to drag his enemies down to hell.

"Names?!" He wanted their names.

"Don't get angry. You've seen them before. They're called Bean Eyes, Yellow Claws, and Gray Feathers, that's what I call them." Donna smiled as she counted on her still-bloody fingers. "These little guys are so easily moved. A little nut and some water will get them to commit to a lifetime. They even said they'd build me a house, but considering the size difference between us, I have to regretfully refuse them."

The menacing glint in the werewolf's eyes vanished, and he shook his head, leaning back in his chair.

"These flying hooligans."

Seeing his embarrassed look, Donna laughed loudly. Clayton wanted to scold her, but he found it funny himself, so he laughed along with her.

When the laughter subsided, Donna suddenly remembered Miss Charlotte's flustered appearance and asked in confusion, "Kerry, why was Miss Charlotte so nervous when she saw you?"

In her mind, if a friend was seriously injured, she should stay and help, and take good care of him until he was out of danger. But Charlotte wouldn't even stay in the study to listen to Clayton and the medical student talk, as if she didn't want to see him at all.

Upon hearing Donna bring it up, Clayton also began to feel that Charlotte's behavior earlier was unusual, and he frowned:

"Maybe... she didn't do something right at work; she's always been afraid of this kind of thing."

"What other tasks have you entrusted to her?"

Clayton shook his head blankly. Due to blood loss, his thinking was slower than usual, and he couldn't tell whether he had forgotten any crucial information.

“Harrington, what do you think?” he asked the butler, who had been standing quietly in the corner since the guests arrived.

Harrington lowered his head and answered Clayton respectfully:
“I think Miss Charlotte is waiting outside because you are shirtless, sir.”

Clayton looked down and then looked at Donna with a puzzled expression. Donna also turned to look at him with a puzzled expression.

Speechless for a moment.

"I have lost some common sense about human society because of the curse, but you must always remember this and remind me when appropriate, so that I don't make a fool of myself like I did today."

Clayton looked seriously at everyone at the table, waiting for their response.

"Don't tell me that, because I also lack common sense about human society." Julius said without looking up, scribbling on the parchment with a pen in his hand.

Donna scratched her face awkwardly: "Actually, me too."

Joseph and Clara did promise this, but Clayton simply didn't believe they possessed such common sense.

"Donna, how come you have no common sense? Doesn't the school teach that?" Clayton asked, clutching his stomach. He was wearing an extra white shirt, but the buttons were still undone.

"They didn't teach this, maybe they thought I knew it."

“Don’t treat wizards like ordinary people, Clayton. In the Church’s broader classification system, we also belong to the Darkin,” Julius said as he wrote.

"What does this have to do with common sense in human society?"

The wizard's voice was leisurely as he said, "I remember using psychic powers in front of you. This kind of perception magic can penetrate walls, so penetrating one or two layers of clothing is certainly not difficult."

Clayton was more surprised than ever before. He looked at Donna, but couldn't say a word.

Donna looked away, avoiding his gaze.

“There’s no need to blame Kretsia. It’s an instinct for wizards, something hard to suppress, like how you prick up your ears when you hear a sound. Apart from maintaining respect for our fellow wizards, we use our psychic abilities to probe anyone. If it weren’t for the fact that a complete body can resist this kind of probing to some extent, we would go all the way to the bone. If it weren’t for the fact that constantly using our psychic abilities would tire us out, we would look all day long.”

Since Julius planned his ascension, he has become much more relaxed.

Donna was no longer his rival—although he never thought her skill level was on par with his own, he would never have regarded her as a junior in need of understanding and guidance as he did now. But this kind of understanding and guidance was not what Donna needed; she resignedly raised her hands:
“Okay, I admit I’ve looked at many people’s bodies. But I didn’t do it for any strange reasons; it was to hone my abilities. Wizards can observe parts of the world’s essence through psychic abilities, but different talents result in different perspectives. Some people master this ability very early on, while others need… need some time, and practice.”

“That’s true,” Julius said.

Clayton stared sullenly at the two wizards, and finally could only wave his hand dismissively.

"Alright, let's eat. Julius, stop writing, the smell of ink is just polluting the food."

Julius readily put away his pen, but not his paper. He held it up to his eyes by the two corners, gave it a light shake, and admired his work.

"In fact, my research, which is nearing completion, can explain this lack of common sense about human society."

"On the Positive Link Between Extraordinary Senses and the Degeneration of Shame," he read aloud the title of the article under the questioning gazes of the crowd.

"This article is about to be submitted to the authoritative wizarding magazine 'Maze Mind.' I won't go into the details, but I can tell you briefly that a person whose vision can see through clothing will not find it unacceptable to be naked, because to him, he does not feel that the clothing is protecting him in any way."

“I believe that shame is essentially a defense mechanism that only works when a person lives among their own kind. When a group of people with extraordinary senses live together, the things that make them feel ashamed are different from those of ordinary people.”

This academic explanation made Clayton feel much better. He nodded slowly: "It sounds like a good article, but when did you start researching this field? I have no recollection of it."

Julius looked at Clayton with a smile, as if he were looking at a huge mine.

"From the beginning."

Clayton paused, then his eyes widened in anger. He took a few deep breaths before finally roaring the order:

"Have a meal!"

The dinner was unpleasant, and because of his mood, Clayton felt that he was more likely to die from his serious injuries.

At eight o'clock, he climbed up to the attic, hoping to speed up his recovery by basking in the moonlight.

He locked the room from the inside and followed his instincts to transform.

This time, his instincts didn't transform him into a werewolf; instead, they transformed him into a wolf.

A black body lay sprawled before the window, bathed in unobstructed moonlight. Its jet-black, silky fur was exposed, and the bandages on its abdomen were torn, revealing a gash beneath. The wound had stopped bleeding, but the blood-red opening resembled a pair of writhing lips, exposing its internal organs, which showed no signs of healing even in the moonlight.

Silver's ability to counteract curses is truly terrifying.

Clayton gazed at the vast starry sky outside the window, and a drowsy feeling washed over him.

After the Dark Moon appeared, he clearly felt that some restrictions had been lifted.

The most notable feature is his shapeshifting ability. His werewolf form is still suppressed by the sun, but his wolf form is not subjected to the same severe suppression.

Even during the day, he can transform into a wolf, which is great news.

The remaining restrictions that have been lifted will require him to explore them on his own; they are powers hidden in his bloodline that cannot be discerned without being used.

But everything depends on whether he survives.

Although he appears calm and collected in front of children, even joking around easily, as if he is only one step away from recovery, he knows in his heart that he is actually only one step away from death. Now, everything he does makes him feel like he is losing strength and is panting.

This feeling of being on the verge of death was all too familiar to him.

Once he was free from his family's gaze, the last breath that had been supporting him vanished, and he was left alone in the attic, revealing his vulnerability.

Clayton tried to sleep, hoping it would speed up the healing process.

He didn't know when, but in his half-awake state, he heard the sound of a lock being opened, followed by the sound of a door closing, and then Donna's voice. She was kneeling beside his head, softly reciting scriptures to pray for him.

"How did you get in?" He said whatever came to mind in that state.

“I asked Butler Harrington for a spare key.” After answering him, Donna began reciting words from the Bible, the gist of which was asking God to protect his frail life.

The sound of the scriptures came from above, and Clayton felt inexplicably agitated. Although he didn't get up, he still stretched out his front paws to nudge Donna.

"Don't pray, I'm not religious."

Donna held down his front paws: "I believe it, that's fine. It's a kind of magic too. If you try to convince me not to believe, it won't work."

Clayton's throat suddenly felt dry, and he began to feel inexplicably fearful.

"No, Donna, don't pray. God won't protect me for what I've done."

"Then I'll ask Mom to bless you."

Donna's answer gave the wounded black giant wolf a sigh of relief. When it heard the part about the Father in the scripture that the girl was reciting next be changed to Tritice, it relaxed again and retracted its front paws.

"Trettis is good, Trites, I will bless her too."

Muttering to himself, Clayton completely lost consciousness.