Camp

Between the Atlantic Ocean and the Caribbean Sea.

The vast ocean, with its undulating waves, stretches as far as the eye can see, like a giant blue ribbon.

Lucien and Liuguang suddenly appeared in the sky above the sea, standing on a pale yellow Auspicious Cloud.

Lucien looked down and saw that beneath the azure sea, the water deepened in layers, from light turquoise to deep blue, and finally to an impenetrable black.

Below here lies the Puerto Rico Trench, the deepest trench in the Atlantic Ocean.

The address Vinda gave him pointed to the bottom of this sea, where some of the magic books collected by the Acolytes in the past were hidden.

"Wizards still know how to hide things," Lucien, gently patting Liuguang's back with a sigh. "Besides using magic to hide the vault itself, even the location they chose is so 'out of the loop'."

The Auspicious Cloud beneath our feet dissipated.

The man and the beast began to fall. As they descended towards the sea, the azure wave-like patterns on Lucien's fingertips lit up, and the water element moved in accordance with his will.

The sea surface silently split open, and the seawater receded to both sides, forming a transparent sphere of air that completely enveloped him and Liuguang.

The air balloon carried them, rapidly diving towards the increasingly dark seabed.

Near the surface entrance to an abandoned mining area in southern Wales.

Amidst a cluster of houses that should have been abandoned long ago, lights were scattered about.

"Wald, everyone's been waiting for you."

Wald, weary from his journey, had barely caught his breath when he was called to a stop and led to the most spacious house, where he pushed open the door and entered.

A strong, wild aura wafted over.

It was a mixture of sweat, fur, and a certain fishy, muttony smell.

Even though Wald had lived in this smell for years, he couldn't help but frown slightly at this moment, but he quickly smoothed out his expression, not daring to show it at all.

Dozens of people were already standing inside.

Most of them were adult men with unusually thick beards and hair, piled up haphazardly on their faces and heads as if they hadn't been trimmed in a long time. Some had their sleeves rolled up, revealing thick hair covering their forearms. Their clothing was old and tattered, mainly made of coarse cloth and leather, and many wore belts made of tanned animal hides around their waists.

Wald glanced instinctively at the wall to his right.

Dozens of wanted posters were nailed to the wall, the paper of varying ages, with curled and yellowed edges.

The portraits on the wanted posters sometimes roll their eyes or show their teeth—a trick by the Ministry of Magic to intimidate and identify the suspects.

All the wanted individuals are Werewolf.

Some of these are duplicate portraits, but the reward amounts listed below them are different.

The newly pasted numbers covered the old ones, one on top of another, like a constantly updated bounty.

The amounts range from tens to hundreds of Galleon, with the higher the number of gallons, the greater the amount.

At the very top, a single wanted poster was pinned.

The portrait on the wanted poster was exceptionally clear—a narrow, long face, disheveled gray hair, a pair of fierce-looking eyes, and an unusually sharp set of teeth at the corner of his mouth.

The following is written in bold below the portrait:

Fenrir Greyback

Bounty: 3000 Galleon

"Regardless of life or death"

Wald's gaze lingered on the wanted poster for a moment before quickly looking away.

This is a Werewolf camp, and also the largest Werewolf settlement in the Britain Isles.

"Everyone's here."

The person sitting above spoke, his voice deep and resonant. Even just sitting, one could tell that he was exceptionally tall and imposing.

His long, narrow face was covered by a head of messy, gray hair, and his cheekbones were high. His fingers were thick and long, with yellow and sharp nails that looked like they had been ground rather than trimmed.

As it speaks, it grins, revealing a set of sharp teeth that terrify its prey.

It was Fenrir Greyback.

He sat on an old wooden chair that was noticeably larger than the others, one hand resting on the armrest, the other tapping his knee absently.

Those grey-green eyes slowly swept over everyone in the room, as if taking inventory of their subordinates.

"Speak," Fenrir said.

A Werewolf standing near the door took a half-step forward in response, sniffed, and pointed to his nose. His nostrils were noticeably wider than normal, his nose was low and flat, and he spoke with a slight wheezing.

"We've spotted Auror again. Right on the outskirts of the mine. No matter how well they try to conceal their scent, they can't escape our noses."

"It appeared half a month ago," another Werewolf chimed in, his voice hoarse. "What are they plotting now? Ha, you self-important hunter."

After listening, Fenrir's lips slowly curled into a smile, his yellow teeth particularly glaring in the dim light.

"It's all ready for them..." Fenrir let out a low, sinister laugh, a laugh laced with undisguised cruelty and anticipation. His voice, though unhurried, made the air in the room freeze. "The hunter's favorite 'trap.' We're just waiting for them to come."

His fingers tapped heavily on the armrest, as if setting the tone for the hunt that had not yet begun.

Then, Fenrir suddenly changed the subject:

"Wald..."

When his name was called, Wald stiffened slightly, but he didn't dare to hesitate for a moment and quickly stepped forward.

Where is the stuff?

Upon hearing this, Wald pulled a medicine bottle from his pocket.

This is the medicine he bought from Knockturn Alley.

"Chief," Wald presented the medicine bottle with both hands, his throat bobbing as his gaze fell upon it, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion, "This is supposedly the improved... Wolfsbane Potion."

In an instant, all eyes in the room fell on that small medicine bottle.