Chapter 274: Fierce Battle in the Snow

This wolf howl that pierced the night sky alarmed many people in the town.

The guard dogs barked non-stop, and some people on both sides of the street cursed loudly and opened the windows, but the next moment the cruelty of nature made them close the windows again, and the hazy white falling objects also blurred the figures of the two beings confronting each other.

Tonight was such a bad weather, few people were willing to go out and deal with wolves.

It was considered diligent to be able to go behind the house to see the animal pen, and it was absolutely impossible to go to the street to find wolves.

Only a few people realized what this wolf howl meant.

Donna opened the window and stuck her head out to look, but it was pitch black outside and she couldn't see anything. Doing so only made her face red with cold.

She turned her head and saw Julius's head peeking out of the window next door, so she greeted him.

The two wizards withdrew their cold heads and walked out of the room at the same time, meeting in the corridor on the second floor.

The house was filled with the smell of incense, which can make wizards' senses more acute, and various amulets were scattered in the corners of each floor to prevent invisible or invisible beings from invading the house.

But this did not bring them a sense of security,

because the people protecting them were an old man who could not run fast, and Clara. Selanne and Marie Etta were useless now.

Donna glanced at Clara uneasily and said to Julius: "You heard it too, it can only be Clayton."

The wizard folded his arms and shook: "He is with Barbara, we don't need to worry about it."

"Humph." Donna sneered at his pretended confidence.

"Anyway, I think he will win, and you should have this confidence too." Julius had his own opinion, and the reason was simple: "If he and Barbara didn't win, then we would really be finished, and the help of the Elders would not arrive in one night."

If he could give orders, he would let Clayton stay and wait for the help of the Elders.

But the werewolf was too impulsive.

It's not that wizards don't have the means to kill people, but they need long-term preparation.

Julius has felt the threat from Chude Osmar, and he doesn't have enough confidence in "needing to deal with the other party".

Donna wants to do something, but she is powerless.

They can hear the cold wind whistling outside the window across the room, and those ordinary birds can't fly through such a storm.

Louis will help them, but not now.

"I wish I were a werewolf too." Donna was annoyed. The bandage on her hand kept reminding her that she couldn't participate in the battle now, and her condition was even worse than that of ordinary people.

"Yes, if I had known earlier, I would have advised Clayton not to come here."

Julius's sentence was fine, but his exaggerated tone was a big problem.

"Do you think I'm a dreamer?!" The girl glared at him.

"I didn't say that." Julius turned his head to look at Clara, and his voice became a little more serious: "What I mean is, you might as well go to sleep for a while and get your spirits up. That way, if the enemy really comes in the middle of the night, our chances of escaping will be higher."

"I won't run away!" Donna gritted her teeth.

There was a knock on the door downstairs, and their bodies froze.

Donna turned around and walked quickly to the end of the corridor, looked out the window, and then breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's Ian Lazarus who is back."

Julius rushed to the window and squeezed her away. After looking out the window, his face turned pale.

"He's back! You're right!"

Donna was stunned for a moment, and suddenly felt cold all over.

"What was Barbara's last instruction to you?" Julius walked downstairs and asked at the door.

The voice outside answered in the distant barking of dogs: "She told me to go back to Sasha City. If I can cross the border, then don't return. I can only come back if I encounter an accident."

The answer is correct, and the door opened.

Ian Lazarus walked in, looking more haggard than when Donna first saw him.

The scarf covering his face was gone, and his blond hair and blue eyes had lost their warmth, as if covered with a layer of dust. There were also several holes in his clothes, as if he had been shot with a gun.

Julius closed the door, and Ian had no intention of taking off his hat. He walked a few steps in before stopping and turning to ask.

"Is she not here?"

"She" was Barbara.

Julius tried his best to make his tone less contemptuous: "Yes, she went out."

"Where did she go?"

"To do something for Clayton." Donna and Pero came from behind him: "You might as well tell us what happened to you first."

Ian turned around. He was not familiar with the girl in front of him. He only knew that Donna was the daughter of Clayton Bello, and Clayton Bello seemed to have a higher status than Barbara.

But now Clayton Bello was also gone, and her status seemed to be the highest.

"There is a Knights' army stationed outside the city of Sasha, and their people are patrolling nearby. I dare not approach them, and I can't get around them."

"What's wrong with the Knights' Army? They don't care whether vampires want to enter the city." Julius walked past him.

Ian's eyes seemed to be dead as he moved to him: "Yes, they don't care, but the two nearby cults may care. Two different branches of the White Church are facing each other on the edge of the city, and that army is here to mediate."

"Okay." The wizard continued to walk into the house as if nothing had happened, and soon disappeared.

Donna wanted to praise Ian's behavior: "Anyway, I'm glad to see you back."

It's always good to have one more helper.

However, Ian didn't show any happiness. He obviously didn't want to come back, which made Donna a little embarrassed.

At this time, a wolf howl sounded again, which made the people in the room change their expressions again.

The werewolf and the doomsday seeker continued to fight for ten minutes. The battlefield they fought was constantly moving, leaving only traces of battle in the original position, but these traces were soon buried by the heavy snow.

Clayton's strength and speed were both above Quoke, but the various paths mastered by the doomsday seeker always helped him escape.

Psychological invisibility, mental shock, night vision, bone metallization, pain tolerance.

These are the abilities he has demonstrated, and the power simulated by the heart secret is certainly not as good as the original effect, but they make him a very comprehensive warrior, plus he has the leatherworker's strange protective gear as a defense, and can even occasionally counterattack under the crazy attack of the werewolf.

The metal fists made dents on the werewolf, and there were sounds of broken bones, but Clayton only needed half a minute to recover from such injuries.

The blood, flesh and energy he had accumulated during the past few days of eating were fully utilized.

Even though his mood was increasingly disturbed by anger, Clayton still noticed that Quoke's counterattacks were becoming less and less frequent.

Even though they were equally fearless of pain, humans' self-healing ability could not be compared to that of werewolves.

Moreover, under the moonlight, Clayton's resistance to these mental attacks was getting higher and higher, and his hesitation time was getting shorter and shorter.

Victory was on Clayton's side.

The Mosquito Slayer was wielded flexibly in the werewolf's hand like a half-sword, and Quoke also dodged the attack at a speed that was not in line with his body, but his speed was much slower than at the beginning.

As soon as he turned his head, the wall behind him was ruthlessly cut diagonally by the axe thrown by Clayton.

The red bricks made with the old formula had almost no defense against the forty-pound weapon. It was no more difficult for Clayton to destroy such a backward brick building than to cut breakfast bread.

But the axe cut into the wall and its speed slowed down.

Quoke spat bloody saliva, raised his hand to grab the axe handle, and began to wrestle with Clayton with his own strength that was also far superior to that of ordinary people.

He had undergone five transformation operations personally presided over by the Blood Secret Master and had been tempered for seven consecutive years. His strength was unmatched.

But Clayton did not compete with him in strength.

Compared with the strength competition, he had a simpler way - the werewolf roared, and under the thick black hair, the muscles from the chest to the abdomen were almost hardened into a piece because of excessive force. He held the axe handle with both hands at the same time and raised it up, lifting the Mosquito Slayer and Quoke holding it together, and then smashed it down heavily.

This was just the simplest downward chop, but it contained the wisdom of the warrior to adapt to circumstances.

After a muffled sound that sounded almost like a whimper, Quoke's back hit the ground, and the pain made him let go of the weapon that did not belong to him.

He had realized what a mistake he had made.

The strength had reached their level, and the combat experience gained by suppressing mortals could not be compared with the same kind of fighting.

And Clayton was more in-depth than him in this regard.

Clayton smiled at him, and the blood that surged up his throat had already painted two rows of sharp teeth red.

After the binding ceremony, the werewolf soon realized a new problem-whether it was himself or Quoke, the extraordinary strength they possessed was difficult to determine the winner in a wrestling match, but both were enough to lift the other up and destroy the center of gravity. The strength was insignificant at this moment, and what really determined the advantage was their weight.

And the werewolf was much heavier than Quoke.

Six hundred pounds? Seven hundred pounds?

He didn't know his exact weight, but Quoke was less than four hundred pounds, and it was much easier for him to lift Quoke than for Quoke to lift him.

This was the advantage.

Coke had been pinned to the ground by the axe. Clayton stepped on his thigh and raised the axe again to chop off his head, but his mind was shocked again. He was in a trance for a moment. Coke in front of him seemed to have changed from an enemy to a friend, which made him hesitant.

When he woke up again, Coke had rolled out from under the axe blade.

Clayton chopped down again without hesitation, but his mind was shocked again.

Coke took the opportunity to get up and pounce on him.

Clayton was knocked to the ground by the bloated body. The black fur dragged on the rough snow and bled. This provided some lubrication for the next movement. The werewolf's body slid on the ground. The two warriors hit another wall together, and the mosquito slayer fell to the side.

Two muffled sounds sounded almost at the same time. The snow on the top of the wall, which had frozen into large blocks, turned over and fell, hitting Coke's head, and then broke into small pieces of slag and rolled down, hitting the werewolf's face.

While Quoke endured the impact on his head, he continued to smash his right fist at the werewolf's head.

Clayton narrowed his eyes and roared wildly, and endured the pain to catch Quoke's left fist with his right paw, and then caught Quoke's right fist with his left paw, and then pulled down with both hands, Quoke's upper body almost fell down, and the werewolf opened its mouth at the right time.

The fangs scraped off half of Quoke's face with almost no hindrance, and his gums and two rows of teeth were exposed from the hole in his cheek, but the effect of the secret of the blade made him not afraid of pain.

In counterattack, his head suddenly hit down, and Clayton did not hesitate to make the same attack method to collide with him.

"Woo——"

A sound that was almost impossible for Clayton to make came out of his mouth.

The werewolf forgot one thing. His mouth and nose were no longer in the same place, and his ancestors had never attacked in this way. Naturally, there was no combat experience passed down. He misjudged the distance, and it was not his forehead that collided with Quoke's head, but his fragile nose.

Blood flowed out of his nose and flowed into his mouth with gravity.

Clayton was completely maddened by the pain and the taste of his own blood. His throat made a hoarse sound, and then he stretched out his arms, and the power that burst out completely defeated Quoke. The relatively narrow body of the werewolf was stretched straight, and then the werewolf tilted his head and bit off the opponent's right arm.

The soft meat quickly passed through the esophagus, bringing satisfaction and starting to restore Clayton's energy.

He grabbed Quoke with both hands and slammed him to the ground.

But the next moment, the severe pain in his abdomen made him withdraw his hand. This time the pain was more intense than that in his nose. He couldn't even scream. His muscles were cramping.

Kok's right hand penetrated the werewolf's skin and stirred in his abdomen.

Kok had more than one right hand.