"May the Holy Blood guide your way, Henrik."
The final blessing spoken had already turned unclear due to the beastly transformation of his throat bones.
After standing alone, Henrik quickly broke through the crowd and dashed down the stone bridge.
Behind him, a piercing and deafening wail surged the airwaves, spreading outward.
Compared to this roar, even the roar of patients transformed to the point of going on all fours was as feeble as a gentle breeze.
Henrik knew that it was the sound of an old friend, ultimately transforming from human to beast.
The nature of the beast shattered the shackles of humanity, appearing in this world.
Henrik couldn’t imagine that such a roar could emanate from what was once a human body.
What exactly lurks in the human body...?
Most Hunters are decisive, and Henrik, after leaving the chaos behind, immediately pulled out a vial for blood therapy from the inside pocket of his tawny coat and injected it into his thigh.
The cut on his arm healed, and the penetrating wound that reached his internal organs also fully recovered.
The Old Hunter no longer looked back and headed away from Church Town Bridge.
An old friend had bought him an opportunity to leave, and he must cherish this chance.
Lann stood by the window in the Gascoigne family’s home, looking outside with his brows knitted tightly.
"Is it my lack of experience... Does this happen on the Night of the Hunt?"
Lann asked Viola by his side without turning his head.
At this time, the mistress of the house was sitting on a chair, comforting her two daughters in her arms.
Hearing Lann’s question, Viola quickly looked up, glanced outside through a gap in the drawn curtain, and then lowered her head again like she was avoiding something unpleasant.
"On the Night of the Hunt, we hardly dare to look outside. If we lock eyes with the beasts, not even incense can drive them away."
The incense’s effect is to nauseate the transformed patients, causing them to resist approaching.
But if the beasts confirm there are indeed people here, then the incense has no lethal or blocking power.
"However..." Mid-sentence, Viola hesitated slightly. "I’ve never seen such a situation on the few nights I’ve glanced outside."
Lann nodded indifferently.
Outside the window, a resident, whose face had grown a mass of black beast fur, was wielding a military knife and carrying a torch, aimlessly wandering.
And beside it, three ’dogs’ followed closely.
If viewed from afar, one might indeed mistake it for a night patrol officer walking dogs.
But fortunately, Lann was not too far away now.
He saw with his own eyes the three dogs, using their mouths to drag an ordinary person fleeing in panic, continuing to gnaw even after tearing through bones, ultimately dismembered by the torch-wielding military knife man.
The three dogs themselves were abnormal.
They had similar symptoms to severely transformed patients, with chests and abdomens completely decayed and hollowed out.
Their rib cages and spines were fully visible.
And copious amounts of hair grew directly from the bones.
Chunks of meat they were biting off dropped from their bellies one by one, yet they continued their joyous gnawing and chewing.
As if eating wasn’t the point; the importance lied in biting, in allowing the blood to splatter out.
"The beastly disease has affected ordinary beasts, and those transformed have spontaneously started collaborating... If it were a virus or bacteria, it develops too quickly, too intelligently."
Lann muttered to himself.
In a scientific worldview, this would resemble a bioweapon.
But in a magical worldview... it’s more akin to a large-scale curse.
While Lann pondered, a mournful clamor suddenly came from outside the window.
Besides being near a waterway, Gascoigne’s house also bordered a small Fountain Square in another direction.
The screams came from Fountain Square.
Viola trembled upon hearing the shrill cries, her two young daughters curling up tighter in her arms.
Screams from one’s kind wield both warning and intimidating signals.
The military knife man and the three dogs wandering around seemed thrilled by the cries, panting excitedly as they rushed towards Fountain Square.
Lann let go of the drawn curtain.
"I’ll go take a look."
The Demon Hunter turned his head and explained, "If they scatter, that’s fine, but if the scream gathers them, becoming a swarm... Anyway, it’s best to handle it in advance."
Lann left his words unfinished, but Viola could already imagine the scene of streets crowded with packs of beastly patients.
She hugged her daughters tighter with her elbows, while her hands clutched a ruby brooch on her chest tightly.
It was a beautiful ruby.
Gascoigne had advised his wife to hold something symbolic in her hands while praying.
It was a suggestion from an outlander clergy. Thus, the man gave his wife a beautiful blood-like ruby brooch, symbolizing the Holy Blood revered by the Healing Church.
"Tha-thank you, Mr. Lann." Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩⁂𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾⁂𝔫𝔢𝔱
Viola did her best to thank Lann with a calm voice.
Among the two young girls, Victoria, the younger sister, also raised her head from her mother’s arms, murmuring a small "Thank you, uncle" to Lann.
Lann slightly smiled at the reality of being called ’uncle,’ waved his hand, and opened the door of the Gascoigne home.
"After dealing with it, I’ll come knock on the door to talk. When you confirm it’s me, then open the door."
Lann emphasized one last sentence.
On this perilous night, no one knew what unforeseen incidents might occur.
As the heavy wooden door opened, back on Yan’an’s streets, Lann was met with a distinctly identifiable scent.
—the stench of blood from those transformed patients.
In this abnormal Night of the Hunt, it seemed everything disastrous had worsened.
The Demon Hunter’s footsteps were silent, even wearing full composite armor, Lann’s trained steps ensured his stealth.
Recently, his height and muscle breadth were still growing. He had already booked an appointment at Tuer Butcher’s smithy, planning a full modification of his armor.
It was only due to the timing of celestial alignments that he hadn’t done it before arriving in Yan’an.
Lann smoothly drew the Lady of the Lake’s Sword from his waist, equally silent.
In this small Fountain Square, the Demon Hunter immediately saw the source of that chilling scream.
It was an ordinary Yan’an person wearing a yellowing white shirt and black suspenders.
His beret had rolled into a pool of blood now, a pitchfork piercing through from his lower back, protruding from the navel.
The pitchfork was held in the hand of a transformed patient, exhaling with excitement, continuously thrusting the shaft forward.
This patient still wore his human clothes, but the mutated, elongated skeleton made those clothes ill-fitting.
The three dogs that had just arrived repeated their routine, biting onto the limbs of the unfortunate victim, shaking and tearing.