Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 377 - 64: Glimmer of Rebellion

This city feels both unfamiliar and familiar to Hans.

The time he was summoned to this place was only a few years ago, and looking at the densely towering chimneys in the industrial area in the distance feels familiar, yet the people and architectural style here are far from resembling Prussia.

The sign of the tavern in front depicts a scantily clad lady holding a cup of wine, extending it towards him standing at the tavern’s door.

This is a location he found out about, a rather famous Saluzzo information broker’s base.

Buying information is the easiest choice to quickly find the master and other colleagues.

He opens the door and enters the tavern.

The warmth emanating from the tavern dispels the chill brought by the wind and rain.

The fireplace in the tavern is burning fiercely.

Hans twitches his nose; the smell in the tavern is very complex—sweat, cheap perfume, alcohol, and remnants of vomit... but with the powerful sense of smell of a werewolf, he immediately caught the most familiar scent among them.

The master stayed here before!

Hans looked around but didn’t find any trace of Losa—unfortunately, it’s raining today; otherwise, with the scent Losa left behind, he would confidently be able to find the master and meet him.

He approaches the bar and gently taps the table with two fingers: "Get me a drink."

The bartender, familiar with the action, pauses, then cheerfully says, "Drinking so early isn’t good for you; we have freshly made potato stew, want to try some?"

Hans takes a deep breath; the meat aroma wafting from the kitchen is indeed tempting, but he knows business is urgent, so he directly says, "I’m looking for someone."

Hans hands over his salary, a gold coin embossed with a man’s profile.

The bartender’s expression freezes slightly and says calmly, "Where did this ancient coin come from? I haven’t seen this person."

Hans replies seriously, "You should know what the consequences are of deceiving me, Mr. Werewolf."

The bartender loses interest in concealing and with eyes rimmed in dark circles says, "Pure-blooded sir, if you understand the rules, you should know that before asking a place like mine for information, you have to state your family name."

"I don’t have a family."

Hans says honestly.

As a Knight, speaking the truth is a basic principle.

Moreover, Hans knows the difficulty of pretending to be a family member is quite high, like the "code words" of those Eastern wanderers; instead of being exposed for lying, it’s better to speak frankly.

"No family? Then you’re a wanderer?"

The bartender’s expression turns cold quickly.

The Wolf Race has no loners, born into a family, there’s no possibility of leaving.

In a family, even the weakest werewolf will have his rightful place, even if just running a simple grocery store, doing a low-risk and low-promising peddler job.

In other words, the wandering werewolf expelled from the family surely has his issues.

He could be a traitor, or have committed unforgivable sins.

This is also why the Basilicata Family sheltering such wandering werewolves is seen as "betraying tradition" by the traditional werewolf families in Two Sicilies.

"Wanderers aren’t welcome here."

Hans sighs lightly: "It seems in every world, the first fellow I meet ends up in a fight."

His form quickly expands, his muzzle elongates, and in the blink of an eye, he has transformed into a ferocious werewolf with silver-gray fur.

Behind the bar.

The bartender slams the oak goblet on the table heavily, his body quickly covered in black fur. In a cold voice, he says, "This is the Sassari Family’s domain; before you act, you’d better think about the consequences."

Hans says in a deep voice, "I just want to know this person’s whereabouts."

The werewolf on the bartender’s face reveals a hint of disdain: "I said, wanderers aren’t welcome here. Either get lost, or spend the rest of your days barely surviving under the Sassari Family’s hunt."

"I intended to resolve this peacefully."

"But it seems you mistook my humility for weakness; indeed, in the Wolf Race, it all comes down to claws and teeth."

The kindness on Hans’ face vanishes completely.

A hint of brutality rises between his brows.

The wildness of the werewolf breaks through the knightly code he once adhered to.

A loud noise is heard.

Hans, already grabbing the bartender by the collar with one hand, drags him out from behind the bar, and lifts him high with both hands, fiercely slamming him onto the ground.

Relentless, he lifts the heavy solid wood tables and chairs beside him and slams them down hard.

...

The rain increasingly drowns the intense sounds of fighting in the alley.

Losa is not repelled by the opponent’s ferocious assault; just like sparring with Cherinita before, he maintains a defensive stance but defends effortlessly, tightly.

This person’s combat skills mirror Cherinita’s, but both speed and technique are inferior in comparison.

Since he has experience countering it, even though the opponent’s power and agility surpass him, Losa manages not to end up on the defensive just by relying on his weakest close combat abilities.

The Shining Cross Sword imbued with the Dragon Core Treasure suddenly turns into a red-hot iron rod, slicing a red streak in the direction where the werewolf intends to attack.

The strike misses, and as rain falls upon it, a sizzling sound emerges.

The werewolf retreats miserably, his chest fur drenched by the rain, with steaming hot water vapor making his skin look like boiled shrimp.

With this sword in hand, Losa dueling with werewolves who use claws as weapons is indeed highly unfair.

Clang.

A sound of metal resonates.

Losa grips the Cross Sword’s hilt with both hands, using his wrists as the axis, lifting it fiercely.

The sparks that splatter only light up for a moment in the raindrops before being extinguished by the cold rain.

A row of severed claws falls to the ground.

The blade in Losa’s hand, representing the red glow of flames, gradually fades.

He raises the sword, pointing it at the werewolf opposite him.

"Is that the caliber of Saluzzo Family’s corner?"

Compared to Hans, this pure-blooded werewolf’s strength is far inferior.

If it were Cherinita going all out, it is estimated a single move would finish him.

"My strength is indeed not worth mentioning, but your strength doesn’t qualify to speak this way."

The werewolf’s voice is raspy like a broken gong: "If not for that Magic Sword, I would have claimed your head long ago."

"Close combat isn’t all I’m skilled at."

Losa’s fingers glide over the sword blade, flames ignite on the sword edge—there’s no Demon-Blocking Gold in this world; relying on his proficiency in Fire Magic, he’s capable of dealing with many foes.

The werewolf sneers: "Do you think this will scare me away?"

"I don’t intend to do that, just want to tell you, if I could support in time, at least I can help Cherinita take down a Centurion; though Cherinita doesn’t count as your same race, having spent so long together, surely some feelings should exist?"

The werewolf pauses in slight surprise, he remains silent for a moment, then says: "Then step over my corpse. If your strength truly matches a Centurion’s, it shouldn’t take much effort to deal with me."

Losa retorts: "What’s the point in such meaningless sacrifice?"

The werewolf’s expression becomes slightly complex, he clenches his fists, two rows of bone spikes loaded with blood spring from the second knuckle of each finger.

"You, without a family, couldn’t understand."

He doesn’t finish his words before swiftly lunging at Losa again.

Splashing water from the ground.

As Losa raises his sword to block, the werewolf’s charging momentum suddenly changes direction, his legs against the courtyard wall of the alley, making him crash towards Losa like a launched cannonball.

Inside Losa, Bloodfall triggers his Dragon Bloodline, boosting his speed dramatically.

The scorching blade pierces the werewolf’s abdomen, sealing the wound instantly with high heat, and also burning his internal organs.

Boom—

He kneels on the ground, the agony on his face intermingled with a hint of relief.

He murmurs softly: "Go save Cherinita, she headed towards the Bell Tower, there’s a hidden path leading out of the city."

"Why?"

The werewolf’s body gradually reverts to human form, his amber eyes bearing a trace of helplessness: "Saluzzo cannot defy the Wolf Lord, having a single heir has already caused immense calamity."

Losa pauses slightly.

He offers a "safe journey" before withdrawing the Cross Sword from his hand.

The last gleam in the werewolf’s eyes fades along with it.

Losa looks toward the landmark building originally intended as the destination, which should be the "Bell Tower" the werewolf spoke of.

As Losa approaches, he spots the Bell Tower, where amid the rain curtain, every step the heavy clock hand advances emits a crisp sound.