It took Desmond quite some time to catch his breath, and even more time to convince the security guard to let him inside because his dog had run into the docks.
He and the security guard rushed to Zheng Yang's boat and saw the boy holding a machete, his face covered in blood.
Gulp.
The security guard gulped and stopped walking, eyeing Zheng Yang cautiously.
Under the mix of artificial light from the streetlights and the natural light from the moon, Zheng Yang looked absolutely terrifying, as if he'd stepped right out of a horror movie. He looked like some evil kid out to kill people in the dark of night, or worse still, like the kind of murderer who would chop his victims into pieces once he was done killing them.
Desmond felt something was off right away when he saw this horrific sight. "You killed my dog?" he blurted out.
"Your dog almost bit me," Zheng Yang replied seriously. He paused for a moment before adding in a serious tone, "Pay up. You owe me at least 1000 pounds."
Desmond immediately felt a chill run down his spine.
It had taken him painstaking effort and countless failures, as well as almost his entire savings and nearly half his own blood, before he'd been able to successfully summon a demonic spirit through a ritual to possess his dog. Even though it was a low-level spirit he'd summoned, it would have been able to nurture his dog into a fearsome, powerful hellhound in the future—maybe even a three-headed hell dog, depending on his luck.
He was eager to restore the glory of the demon tamers.
Desmond looked down at the demon taming collar in his hand. Because he had been so elated by the sudden success, he'd forgotten to activate the demon-taming mark in time. That was the only reason why the dog had managed to escape.
So long as he'd been able to capture his dog, put the collar on it, and activate the mark, the dog naturally would've bent to his will. And after the dog became completely fused with the blood he would've offered in the next summoning, they might have achieved a telepathic connection.
However, that brat had ruined everything.
Desmond's eyes became bloodshot, just like his dog's. He shouted in anguish, "Give me back my dog!"
"Your dog almost bit me!"
"Give me back my dog!"
"Your dog almost bit me!"
"Give…"
"Your dog almost bit me!"
…
Suddenly, Desmond realized that his dog's dead body was missing. He wondered how that brat had actually managed to clean up the scene so quickly, given that he'd arrived at the docks just five minutes after his dog went inside.
Desmond fought down his anger and asked through clenched teeth, "Where's my dog?"
"Your dog almost… oh, that thing jumped into the sea and escaped." Zheng Yang pointed at the sea, his expression unchanging.
Desmond's emotions were like a roller coaster ride at the moment, preventing him from taking note of the contrast between the amount of dog blood all over Zheng Yang's head and face and the squeaky-clean deck. He may have even overlooked the detail because he'd convinced himself that Zheng Yang had cleaned up the scene.
He looked even more upset as his eyes followed the direction of Zheng Yang's finger. Regardless of whether the dog had actually jumped into the sea on its own, or whether Zheng Yang had killed the dog and dumped its body into the sea, the end result remained the same.
That hellhound of his was no more.
Zheng Yang was completely silent when he saw just how dejected Desmond looked, and he subconsciously put his guard up.
"Did he raise that eldritch dog?" Zheng Yang thought. "Did he even know that the dog was possessed by something nasty? If so, that would mean he had knowingly raised an eldritch being. What is he up to, then? Anyone who knows how to raise an eldritch being would definitely know a thing or two about the occult. How can I get in touch with those people?"
These questions raced through Zheng Yang's mind one after another as he held his machete and fiercely faced off against Desmond.
The security guard spread out his hands placatingly, trying to calm both parties down, and suggested, "Hey, I think that the two of you should really talk this out between yourselves, or should I call the police for you?"
Both Zheng Yang and Desmond turned to look at the security guard.
The security guard shrugged and said, "I think the two of you should talk about who should be compensating who here."
Zheng Yang fished out the docking card from his pocket and showed it to the security guard, saying, "I'm a client of yours, and I was attacked here by a rabid dog. I think you people owe me an explanation, or should I call Mr. Henry and have him explain it to me instead?"
He recalled Henry's fawning mannerisms and attitude, suddenly realizing that he should get some form of compensation from the club.
"And you, sir," Zheng Yang said to Desmond, "your dog had bloodshot eyes, and it was clearly rabid. Your dog was carrying a very infectious, deadly disease, and it almost bit me, infecting me. As the owner of the dog, you should pay up as well."
The security guard's expression became serious as he said to Desmond, "That's rabies, sir. I think that you should explain why it was on our dock in the first place. I'm not seeing a dead body anywhere, but we'll need to look around for it and report the matter to the Disease Prevention Committee."
Desmond's expression changed. Not only had he lost a hellhound that he'd gone to great lengths to acquire, but he had also even fallen into a state of passivity. All of this fueled the rage simmering inside him.
Kill him! Kill him!
Desmond had been tainted with a bit of demonic aura when he was performing the summoning ritual before. Because he was in an unstable state of mind at the moment, this demonic aura had sneaked into his psyche, affecting his reasoning. Fueled by the pent-up rage inside him, it grew increasingly stronger, and Desmond's eyes quickly became even bloodier, revealing his frenzied emotions.
Roarrrr…
Desmond howled at the sky like a wolf. His canines started to grow under the moonlight, turning into horrifying fangs, and claws shot out of the ends of his fingers, shimmering with a cold sheen and looking very, very sharp.
A werewolf transformation?
The scene was as shocking as it was fantastical. In the eyes of common folks, such mystical phenomena only existed in travelogues, epics, and fictional novels, and yet it was playing out right in front of Zheng Yang's eyes.
The security guard, who was strong both in body and mind, was originally standing behind Desmond. But when he sensed the weird, dangerous air about Desmond at the moment, he decisively brought his stick down on the back of the latter's neck.
Whack…
Desmond's eyes rolled to the back of his head. His first transformation brought about by that demonic aura was abruptly ended by that one swing of the stick.
Even though Desmond was passed out on the ground, the security guard kept his guard up and called for backup on his walkie-talkie. Five other security guards came to the scene in less than three minutes, and they called the police and reported what had happened to the management of the club. Everything was carried out in an orderly fashion.
With a serious look on his face, the strong security guard who'd knocked out Desmond told Zheng Yang, "Sir, the blood on you belongs to that mad dog, right? I think you should get yourself a shot just in case. If you're injured, it would be wise to let the doctors fix you up, instead of cleaning it up on your own with cold water."
"You're not going to compensate me, then?" Zheng Yang thought.
He insisted to the guard, "I need the club to compensate me."
"Sure, it's our responsibility, after all. And I think the guys up there will seriously look into the matter," the security guard said. Seeing that his colleagues had tied Desmond up securely, he walked over to the man, lifted his eyelids, and shined his torchlight into his eyes. He seemed to know what he was doing.