Werewolf Hunting Rules.

Chapter 455 Meeting as a Guest
Facing the Clan Fang named Harcha, Clayton was more polite than he was when facing the previous wolf hunting team.

Two werewolves of the same level can still maintain restraint and courtesy when they are hostile. In addition to hunting, dueling is also an important ritual engraved in the blood of these creatures.

Halcha was willing to let Clayton choose the battle location and duel conditions first. This kind of respect is lacking in most battles in this world.

After discussion, the two werewolves decided not to use weapons and not to transform.

They found a backyard of a house that was for rent as the battlefield. Although the space was not large, there were no obstacles except for a bare old sycamore tree. Halcha stood seven steps in front of Clayton. The clothes he wore were the same as those worn by Lavein, with adjustable straps that could even adapt to the transformed wolf body, but they were not needed in this battle.

"Seven minutes," said Halcha.

"I must admit that I brought two items that can assist in combat. This is unfair, so after seven minutes, regardless of whether I win or not, I will stop."

Clayton looked at Harcha in surprise. He always said such words to others, but this was the first time he heard someone say it to him.

"Okay, I'll stop in seven minutes," the lieutenant responded.

Harcha smiled, but he didn't seem to believe that he would need Clayton's mercy. He pulled out a necklace pendant from his collar, which was a cross with mottled gold paint and black material.

"【Alien Gift】can free me from the suffocating feeling of being immersed in the sun. Even in human form, I can still retain more strength and recovery ability."

He tucked the necklace back into his collar and lifted the hem of his clothes, revealing his waistband, where he wore a light brown leather belt.

"Running Shepherd, there's not much to say. The tighter it is, the faster I move." As he spoke, Harcha tightened the belt, and an almost imperceptible aura enveloped his entire body.

"By the way, don't try to use the same tactics you used against those little guys on me. I'm 71 years old and have been in combat longer than you've spent eating dinner in your lifetime. There are few things that can sway me."

"Okay, can we get started?" he asked kindly, but it was hard not to sense his contempt.

Clayton smiled.

"Of course, old man."

The gentle pre-war conversation suddenly turned into something that seemed to have happened a long time ago. The pupils of Clayton and Harcha's eyes expanded to the limit at the same time, and the two beasts crashed into each other.

Although they all agreed to let each other go after seven minutes, they also sincerely wanted to kill the guy in front of them within seven minutes.

With the bonus of the magic item, Harcha's speed was incredibly fast. His fist reached Clayton's jaw first. The sound of bones cracking exploded in Clayton's ears. A large amount of blood squeezed out of his gums and quickly flooded his mouth. The severe pain made him almost think that his gums were shattered into pieces.

For a human, a punch to the jaw would almost mean the end of the battle. Even though Clayton was a werewolf, he could hardly endure such pain without being able to transform, and his entire body's movements were distorted as a result.

In just one move, he was almost defeated.

However, after throwing this punch, Halcha quickly retreated without pursuing the victory.

Because Clayton's fist, which was deformed by injury, had already moved downward to grab his belt, just barely missing it.

Clayton was breathing heavily, his knees slightly bent, his upper body slightly bent, blood dripping down the corners of his grinning mouth. He licked his loose and numb teeth, feeling as if he was licking a pair of dentures.

This punch woke him up immediately. Halcha did have the ability to kill him within seven minutes.

If Clayton's speed is ten, then Harcha's speed is twelve.

Even though it sounds only a little faster, in actual combat, this little advantage is already a huge gap. The faster person can dominate the rhythm of the battle. Clayton can see his speed, but his body can't keep up. Halcha has ample reason for his arrogance.

If you want to defeat Harcha, you must limit his speed.

As long as he grabs the opponent's belt, even if he cannot make this magical item ineffective, he can still restrict Harcha's position and seize the rhythm of the battle.

Clayton stared at the other man's waist, as if he could see the belt through his shirt.

In return, Harcha also stared at Clayton's shoulders, judging how the arms that were ready to strike would move, and in just two seconds, he took the initiative to attack, stepping forward with his left foot while raising his right foot high, kicking Clayton's chest. Clayton crossed his arms in front of his chest, just in time to block the attack path of the foot, but before the kick hit, Harcha suddenly changed his tactics, twisting his waist to the right, turning his body backwards and pressing down, retracting the original kick, and his right foot drew a downward arc as the center of gravity changed, and then rose up, stinging Clayton's unprotected abdomen like a scorpion's tail, and the sole of the shoe hit Clayton's right waist heavily.

Halcha's movements were light, but he was able to kick Clayton's heavy body to one side.

Clayton groaned.

"This is not the fighting style of our country."

"Indeed, it's not." Halcha turned around nimbly: "This is the fighting technique I learned from Tallinn. It's very useful, isn't it?"

For an immortal like him, even if he just learns a skill out of interest, he can hone it to a professional level with a lot of time and effort.

The lieutenant snorted, then changed his stance. His feet were one in front of the other, his heels raised, as if he was about to leap up at any time, and his hands were spread apart and protected in front of his body, each holding an empty hand like a dagger.

"Menia's self-defense skills?" Kong Lione was stunned. "The fighting skills included in the Infantry Drill Manual are indeed very practical, but I don't think it is suitable for use against me. You don't even have a matching weapon."

Armenian self-defense is a weapon technique that the military particularly likes. It is known for its fast, sharp and crazy offensive that is dizzying.

But this opponent couldn't possibly be faster than him.

"You try it." Clayton raised his chin.

As soon as he finished speaking, Halcha's attack came almost without warning, a simple and quick jab hit Clayton's chest, but was intercepted by Clayton's raised elbow.

Halcha tried to attack from different directions, but was blocked every time.

He stopped attacking and looked carefully at the opponent in front of him. The opponent's posture was indeed in the style of Menian self-defense, but it was more contracted. The sudden and rapid attack emphasized in the original self-defense technique was changed to a rapid defensive response.

This is not to say that Clayton's skill level and movement speed have improved, he just no longer considers the possibility of offense and instead focuses on defense, thus reducing the flaws.

This kind of defense is not even complete. The offensive posture of Menia's self-defense is extremely dangerous because the user has a weapon in his hand, not because of how much lethality the hands have. Similarly, even if it is changed to a defensive posture, a shield should be held to be effective. Now the so-called defense of this wild wolf is nothing more than using parts other than vital parts to withstand the blow, and he is still injured.

Harcha was a little disappointed and he dropped his hands.

"It seems that you really just want to survive these seven minutes and have no hope of killing me."

"Please don't be impatient. We still have five minutes." Clayton stared at his hands and stepped back quietly, moving closer to the old sycamore tree in the yard.

"It's been four hours since I found out about this, Grammer. Have you figured out how much we lost last night?"

The magnificent old house of the Hutton family finally fell silent. Figo Hutton was questioning his confidant Grammer in the study. While Grammer was answering, he drank a whole cup of black coffee without changing his expression. The strong bitterness cooled the passion that had been boiling all night and solidified it into the shape of reason.

Conrionay's actions really frightened him. He spent the second half of the night contacting his partners and allies in the church and the army, trying to find out what happened as soon as possible.

Even now the sun had risen and he was still in his evening gown.

"We're still counting." Grammer had just come back from outside with intelligence gathered by other personnel. In the cold weather of this month, he was sweating profusely. "But the dead... at least 70 security personnel died, including 20 guards. We can't recruit them in a short time."

Figo frowned and interrupted him: "Gramer, the losses I'm talking about are not human, although they are also quite a pity."

The Hutton family's business is mainly real estate, but in order to win people's hearts and unite strength, Figo Hutton invested a lot in members of other Sacred Heart Fraternity.

"Oh." Grammer quickly corrected himself: "We didn't suffer any losses. The production machines were not damaged, and the skilled workers were still alive. Those werewolves seemed to think that they would belong to them in the end, so they didn't attack them."

Figo Hutton's brows relaxed.

As far as he knew, the series of losses caused by Konglione last night also included the logistics warehouse in Basbe and the pharmaceutical factory in Orlanst.

Conrionay certainly needs to be condemned, but this time they did a good thing.