The surveillance method was indeed in the sky.
Clayton played with the foul-smelling feather, guessing it was the sorcerer's doing.
Those mysterious beings in legends could awaken the dead and use their eyes to observe the outside world.
For this reason, he was greatly relieved. If the people of the Holy Grail Society really stayed indoors because the last surveillance was killed by him, he would really have no good solution.
Although the new surveillance is a bit more advanced than Clayton imagined, it makes his investigation easier.
If the surveillance is a person, it will inevitably pick up miscellaneous smells when interacting with others. But if it's a bird that hardly lands, its smell will be more specific, reflecting the scent of its owner.
Now, with only a feather in hand, it's not enough for Clayton to collect enough scent; he needs a whole one.
He took off his clothes and hid them in a bush behind a tree, then stretched his limbs and initiated the transformation.
His snout elongated into a wolf shape, black fur surged out of his pores like waves, muscles swelled with hot air, and the ankles of his feet grew rapidly.
A fully transformed werewolf is no smaller than a horse.
Clayton lifted his paw and held the Conqueror rifle in his mouth, his white fangs fixing the barrel. Then, he propped himself on all fours and ran like a true beast. His glowing amber eyes in the dark cut through the streets like lightning,
At night, except for a few sheriffs, no one else would be on the streets, and Clayton could fully release himself.
To be safe, to avoid being discovered by the surveillance, his route was two streets away from the carriage and specifically chose those secluded paths that the sheriffs would not enter to check.
The gale brushed past Clayton's cheeks, his smooth black fur and two sharp ears lay flat backward.
The scenery on both sides almost merged into a line in his vision.
Werewolf is not a wolf, Clayton's speed can even rival the military horse he used to ride, and his endurance is even better. He is confident that he can reach Saint Mellon Parish faster than the carriage he hired.
As long as he arrives at the observation point of the General Security Command's bell tower in advance, he can figure out what is following him.
Ding ding ding
Joe Mani bent down to pick up the fallen spare bullets and stuffed them back into his pocket.
Then he sat back on the bed, leaned against the wall, and stared at the world outside the simple house through the window.
The room he was in was the entirety of his residence, a small and dilapidated place with a leaking ceiling, but it was the best he could find now.
His face was still in the disguise from the day, as each disguise required the consumption of wax and glue, as well as more than an hour of preparation time, so he just let them stay overnight.
The downside is obvious.
He scratched his face, planning to buy some menthol cream for prickly heat after Brother Clayton deals with the Holy Grail Society.
The revolver flipped back and forth in his hand, and he casually flicked the cylinder out and then snapped it back.
Joe actually didn't know how to use a gun well.
But thinking of Clayton's reminder yesterday, for some reason, he felt a bit scared, even taking the revolver with him when he showered and slept.
"Be careful of the sky."
He felt creepy.
The idea of the Holy Grail Society training birds to track sounds feasible and is the only explanation he can think of, but how could it really be possible?
He came back by train.
Those little guys with brains not as big as a segment of his finger, let alone whether their speed and stamina can keep up with the train, even if they can, how can they find him among so many heads in the sky?
It's too unreasonable.
Joe Mani shivered and pressed the cylinder back for the last time.
He decided to go to bed.
Asleep, he wouldn't have to think about anything.
He put on a blanket, pressed the pistol under the pillow, lay facing the wall. Then he silently counted down to the pocket watch he had taken off.
The alarm bell of Saint Mellon Parish rings every quarter of an hour, and its sound is more prominent in the silent night.
He hasn't been here for long and can't adapt to this system, so he has to count the moments every day, and he can only fall asleep at ease after the bell rings. If the time is close to the hour, it is even more so, otherwise, the bell sound in the half-asleep state will drive away all sleepiness.
He has been doing this for four days.
The pointer on the pocket watch gradually approached nine o'clock, and when it arrived at the correct position, the familiar loud bell sound came from outside the window.
When - when - when -
Bang!
The window on the side of Joe Mani's head suddenly exploded, and the broken glass splashed all over the floor, and a strange thing flew in, wriggling softly and actively for two times, while emitting a strong stench.
Someone is shooting here!
He suddenly sat up, holding the revolver, aiming at the window alertly. Then he squatted and stuck to the corner of the wall.