The Black Flag Public House became an overnight sensation, much to Draven's satisfaction. He had originally been worried that Rurik and his team wouldn't be able to stabilize the situation, which was why he had sent the Green Serpent over to assist. But now, it seemed he had been overthinking it.

  Still, since the Green Serpent group had already departed, recalling them would serve no purpose. In a few days, they should be arriving in Selene City.

  In his reply to Rurik's report, Draven emphasized one point in particular: all industries under the Black Flag Territory in Selene City would ultimately fall under his control.

  Though the Green Serpent was capable, he was also deeply cunning. That couldn't be overlooked. Draven warned Rurik not to let him get away with anything too easily.

  In addition to instructions about the Green Serpent, Draven also mentioned Aureon. The Tauren representative had piqued his interest.

  He instructed Rurik to continue maintaining contact, and if Aureon was willing, perhaps they could talk face-to-face the next time Draven visited the city.

  At the end of the letter, Draven couldn't resist bragging a bit to his old friend Rurik, listing all the recent achievements of the Black Flag Territory.

  The current Black Flag Territory was no longer a small, cautious power trying to avoid stronger enemies.

  In terms of combat strength, they now had the capacity to go head-to-head with large clans. Their leadership-level fighters were particularly rare and powerful.

  In the territory of the succubi, they no longer had to bow to the will of other factions—though of course, this didn't apply to the succubi themselves.

  To become a true Demon Lord, one still had to bow their head when needed.

  But what about in the future? Draven rubbed his chin, unable to keep Selene's figure from surfacing in his mind.

  News of her southward raids had already come through the Pale-Horned Magic Hawk, and Rurik had also gathered some information indirectly via Valeria.

  Draven quietly deduced that this wave of plundering was likely to replenish the slave resources of her estate.

  After all, the servants in Selene's manor couldn't have appeared out of thin air. He didn't know the full picture, but he could guess the gist.

  Unfortunately, operations at this level were still beyond his reach.

  Rurik had mentioned such raids usually lasted two to three months, which meant Draven wouldn't be seeing Selene in person anytime soon.

  The thought left him with an odd sense of emptiness. Just when he had finally gained a slight upper hand in his contest with Selene, she had vanished. It was like hunting prey, only to watch it disappear into thick fog.

  He stood in front of his residence, dazed for a few seconds, until a sudden commotion outside interrupted his thoughts.

  Stepping out of the hall, he saw the training ground across the square teeming with activity.

  Young beastkin from various tribes were lined up in orderly rows, grouped by age, undergoing hand-to-hand combat training under Linda's supervision. They trained in pairs, with disciplined movements and intense focus.

  Draven watched for a while from the side, and his gaze unconsciously landed on Linda.

  Only then did he realize that this succubus—at the blood demon warrior level—had indeed performed impressively lately.

  For some reason, he suddenly thought of Rurik. Linda and Rurik... they might actually make a good match.

  Just as he was entertaining this idea, Liliana popped up from who knows where, storming over with a sulky look on her face. Without a word, she stomped hard on the top of his foot.

  Draven sucked in a sharp breath and looked down at her in surprise.

  Liliana pouted and let out a disgruntled hum, as if accusing him of being distracted.

  Draven couldn't help but laugh. He pulled her into his arms and whispered,"Tell me, don't you think Linda and Rurik are a good match?"

  His chin rested against her tiny horns, and his tone sounded both like he was asking for permission and sharing a secret.

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  Liliana gave a small nod, remaining completely still—only her two little horns swayed slightly with the motion.

  Far away, however, Linda had already sensed their gazes falling on her, and her expression immediately tensed. Alarm bells rang in her mind. Had one of the secret messages she recently sent been discovered?

  Even though Selene wasn't in Selene City, there were virtually no secrets in the Black Flag Territory hidden from her eyes.

  Not long ago, Draven had asked her about how to ascend to a lordship. Then, in the blink of an eye, he had accepted the submission of three tribes! The speed of it all was enough to send chills down her spine. She immediately passed the intel to the southern base through the shadow guards.

  Upon receiving the letter, Selene's fingers turned pale from gripping it too tightly. Her eyes flickered with hesitation and anxiety.

  "Reply to Linda," she ordered through clenched teeth,"tell her to keep watching him!"

  Her tone was forceful, but it couldn't conceal the unease in her heart.

  Ever since that night, when she had accidentally witnessed that unsettling scene, certain images had kept replaying in her mind.

  Viola and the others' helpless expressions, and Draven's bone-chilling smile—those memories left her feeling disturbed.

  Agitated, she stepped out of her tent and looked out over the endless sea of tents.

  This southern raiding expedition had already gone on for quite some time. The troops no longer adhered to strict formations or layouts—they prioritized efficiency above all.

  Still, the harvest had been decent. As long as they stayed cautious and avoided attracting stronger powers,

  they should be able to make it through this winter in relative comfort.

  However, for reasons she couldn't explain, ever since leaving the northern lands and heading south, Selene had been plagued by a vague, persistent anxiety.

  While she wore a calm expression on horseback, her heart was never truly at ease. She had the constant feeling that this raid wouldn't go as smoothly as past ones—as if some unforeseen danger was silently approaching.

  Even so, she couldn't afford to retreat. The livelihood of her entire clan rested on her shoulders, and countless eyes were watching her.

  As a lord, she had no choice but to press forward, even if the road ahead was strewn with thorns.

  "Maybe once we establish the ranch next year and sow the first crop, things will start to change," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the bluish-gray outline of the distant mountains. The wind blew through her black hair, but no breeze could ease the furrow in her brow.

  Her thoughts shifted again, landing on the werewolf chieftain who had left such a strong impression. His eyes were sharp and composed, as if able to see straight through a person's soul, and yet at times, they revealed an unexpected kindness.

  She didn't know why he kept coming to mind, but she knew one thing—he was strong, and unlike her.

  Meanwhile, far to the south, a Tauren wrapped in a tattered cloak quietly stepped into the territory of the Blood Elves.

  His name was Torvald, once a warrior under Selene's command. Now, he wandered alone—seeking either a new hope, or a chance for vengeance.

  Standing at the border, staring at the blood-red flags marking the territory line, a fierce light burned in his eyes.

  He had crossed countless mountains, endured hunger, cold, and attacks from wild beasts, and now he had finally reached his destination. Turning to look back toward the north, his gaze turned from fiery to venomous.

  "One day, I'll return," he growled, his voice low and hoarse, as if squeezing the vow from his throat.

  With that, he set off again. After several skirmishes with border guards, he finally broke through to the inner region of the Blood Elves' domain.

  Eventually, he was dragged into a grand hall, bound hand and foot. Tall stone pillars loomed on all sides, and crimson light from crystal chandeliers bathed the room in an eerie glow, as if the very air smelled faintly of blood.

  "Lady Zora, this Tauren says he's from the north. He mentioned Freya… and the Divine Emissary," a guard reported in a low voice.

  The lady seated on the high throne lifted her head, eyes cold and sharp. She was a Blood Elf woman, clad in a robe woven of black and crimson threads. Every movement she made radiated oppressive authority.

  Even without releasing any real power, her presence alone made it hard for Torvald to breathe.

  "You know Freya?" Her voice was melodious but carried a razor's edge.

  Torvald dropped to his knees at once, not even daring to lift his head. Trembling, he briefly recounted how he had met Freya during a mission, and how she later died alongside another Blood Elf lord.

  Lady Zora's expression darkened. Though she had already heard rumors, hearing it confirmed from the mouth of a foreign Tauren still displeased her.

  "That idiot Clara… died without even leaving a proper name for herself..." she muttered under her breath, her gaze growing colder.

  Torvald felt a chill rush over him. He immediately prostrated himself, his horns nearly cracking the stone tiles.

  "Please, my Lady, I beg you! Let me serve you! Just inform the Divine Emissary—grant me power, and I'll avenge them both!"

  Lady Zora studied him in silence, a thoughtful gleam in her eyes.

  "You said you're the young heir of the Tauren under Selene's command?"

  "Yes! I am the Tauren's heir!" Torvald answered without hesitation, erasing all mention of his older brother, Aureon.

  "Is that so? Well, that might actually be useful," she said, slowly leaning forward, her gaze landing on his face as a faint smile played on her lips.

  And so, Torvald remained in the Blood Elves' lands. What would happen next, Draven neither knew nor cared.

  To him, Torvald was just a minor figure—not even someone whose name he could clearly remember.

  At that moment, the Black Flag Territory was focused on something far more important: the celebration of the northern tribes' surrender. After Thorin sent out the invitations, Draven ordered the entire territory to begin preparations for the grand festival.

  Viola was in charge of the arrangements, and all of Village No. 2 had plunged into unprecedented busyness. Draven, meanwhile, sat alone in the council chamber, poring over new administrative policies.

  With the population now surging, the original rationing system was stretched to its limits. He had to devise a more rational method to allocate resources.

  The parchment in front of him was densely covered with notes. He frowned as he reviewed them again and again, fatigue showing in his eyes.

  At times like this, he couldn't help but think of Sylvia. If that elven princess were still around, she would no doubt help him straighten out this mess.

  Unlike Liliana, who was currently sprawled out across the desk, sound asleep—with a shiny drool glistening at the corner of her mouth.