Draven arrived once again at Village No. 1. This time, he was not here simply to inspect, but accompanied by the Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent.

  Moreover, he wanted to see Bran's training results with his own eyes and keep an eye on Alaric's changes—especially his growth since leaving his sister.

  To Draven's surprise, Alaric had indeed changed. After parting ways with his sister, Alaric was no longer the little follower always trailing behind her. He gradually revealed his own edge, standing out among the village's hunting teams.

  The timidity and cowardice of the past seemed to have been worn away by the hardships of this land. Now, the team he led had become one of the main forces bringing in the richest hunting yields for Village No. 1.

  Draven personally patted Alaric on the shoulder with such force that Alaric clenched his teeth to keep from crying out, his face nearly twisted by the impact. But within that pain was more recognition—a heavy honor.

  "Good job," Draven said, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

  Village No. 1's population had already surpassed two hundred. The old wooden houses could no longer accommodate so many slaves and warriors. Most of the newcomers had to live temporarily in tents hastily erected.

  With the rainy season arriving, mud and dampness were the new normal. Building proper houses wasn't something they could solve right now, so they had to make do for the time being.

  During his inspection, Draven noticed some details. Although they were all slaves, the tent area had noticeably more kobold slaves than black wolf slaves. This uneven distribution was clearly Bran's doing.

  Draven didn't press the matter and quietly filed it away in his mind. He never fussed over such things—after all, all slaves ultimately served the Black Flag Territory. Temporary preferences wouldn't affect the bigger picture.

  At this moment, he was sitting inside what Bran had declared his office. The place was full of everyday life's warmth. A hearth in the center of the room burned dry wood, making the space cozy and warm.

  Bran and Alaric sat on either side of him, while the two black wolf female slaves personally selected by Bran busied themselves by the fire, preparing a meal.

  Watching their movements, Draven felt a flicker of unexpected admiration.

  "You've got quite an eye," he said, tilting his head toward Bran.

  Who would have thought that those two originally bony, filthy black wolf female slaves had now not only become pretty but also carried themselves with a certain liveliness and grace.

  Draven knew this transformation was far from over; in a few months, they would probably be even more beautiful.

  The rain was heavy, so there would be no hunting today. Taking advantage of the break, Draven inquired about the magical beast hunting situation.

  The moment this topic came up, Alaric puffed out his chest, pride written all over his face. In contrast, Bran's expression darkened, his brow furrowed tightly as if weighed down by dissatisfaction.

  Draven handed out the prepared magical beast lure potions. Over the past few days, more than one magical beast had fallen into the traps—the results were very effective.

  But Bran could no longer hold back; he finally spoke up with clear displeasure.

  "Chief, that serpent man—he actually went south of our village to lure magical beasts! He's practically treating that forest as his own territory!"

  "This is our hunting ground!" He pounded his thigh, his voice growing louder.

  Draven glanced at him coldly and said,"What's yours or mine? That belongs to Black Flag Territory."

  Bran stiffened stubbornly, wearing an expression that clearly said,"I don't accept that."

  Draven didn't explain Gregor's true identity to Bran, nor did he intend to reveal too much. He only said,"Follow orders. Don't meddle."

  Gregor was currently Draven's most critical chess piece. The Serpent Ancestor had indeed given him quite a few valuable things.

  During that quarrel in the forest, Gregor had stirred up Serpent Ancestor's competitive spirit, who then directly taught him a special summoning technique.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "When you become a leader, you will be able to summon a undead warrior from the netherworld to fight for you."

  Serpent Ancestor's words still echoed in Draven's mind—deep, resolute, as if etched into bone.

  He even boasted that this undead summoning was stronger than the serpents' guardian beasts and easier to control.

  That summoning technique had ultimately ended up in Draven's hands. It was a ritual-based summoning relying on runes and spells.

  After obtaining it, Draven didn't summon immediately. He was waiting—for Gregor to ascend to the leader level.

  Whatever Serpent Ancestor provided, Draven wanted to keep some leverage. The last time with the spectral armor had already been risky enough.

  Moreover, he needed a reason—a way for Gregor to hand over the undead summoning technique right in front of Serpent Ancestor.

  The more benefits Serpent Ancestor gave, the higher Draven's expectations became. He wouldn't let Gregor be exposed before he had fully squeezed the old creature dry.

  Regarding Gregor's true identity and that peculiar existence almost like a doppelg?nger, Draven never intended to reveal it to anyone. This was not only to maintain secrecy but also because he trusted no one—not even his closest allies.

  Take Bran for example. Although he was a loyal deputy, his impulsive nature and loose tongue made him unreliable.

  For now, Draven didn't want anyone meddling in Gregor's affairs. He wanted to divert their attention away from that troublesome Serpent, so he came up with a plan and subtly gave them a suggestion.

  "The number of magical beasts in our territory is limited," Draven said slowly, stirring the blood wine in his cup."Don't just go and kill them all off blindly. Hunting is for profit, not extinction."

  He paused, then continued,"From now on, lure the beasts near the borders. Maybe you can attract magical beasts from other territories. That way, we don't have to work so hard, and we help clean up others' trouble as well."

  Bran's eyes immediately lit up at the idea, nodding rapidly like a pestle pounding grain."Great idea! You're really smart, boss!"

  Alaric, however, silently cursed the trick as dishonorable. He wasn't opposed to the plan, but thought it wasn't very honorable. Still, his eager expression betrayed his true thoughts.

  In fact, Draven's suggestion wasn't just to distract the two of them. He also recalled the incident with the two short-horned magical bulls not long ago. That harvest completely changed his understanding of the beast-luring strategy.

  With the lure potion formula, hunting magical beasts became easier than ever. By spreading the powder and waiting for the beasts to be attracted, they could easily trap and kill them. The efficiency was so high it tempted greed. But with that greed came concerns.

  "If this keeps up," Draven thought,"how many more years can the beasts in our territory survive?"

  Magical beasts are different from ordinary animals. They are huge, powerful, and rich in magical energy. Such creatures are naturally rare in the wild.

  They aren't wild grass or cassava; their breeding cycles are long, and their numbers are few.

  Unlimited hunting over the long term will only lead Black Flag Territory down an irreversible path.

  Moreover, even with druids like Liliana who can communicate with and attempt to tame some magical beasts, not every beast is willing to compromise. Most often, the wildness of magical beasts far exceeds imagination.

  Draven once thought those two short-horned bulls were convinced by the deterrence and temptation of him and Liliana. Only later did he learn the female bull was already pregnant.

  They had stumbled on the beasts' weak spot by accident. If the bulls had no such concerns, it wouldn't have been so easy.

  Blood wine doesn't brew from thin air. It requires the blood of magical beasts as its main ingredient. The entire economy and survival system of Black Flag Territory, in some way, is closely tied to magical beast resources.

  Besides blood, there's meat, bone, skin, and magical cores—all convertible into wealth.

  Without magical beasts, Black Flag Territory's food supply, trade, armaments, and medical resources would all be affected. So controlling the pace of hunting and expanding gains are both essential.

  The rain gradually lessened, and the sound of dripping water outside became sparse. Draven stood up, donned his cloak, and instructed Bran,"The moonlit night sacrifice two days from now cannot be sloppy. Prepare all the ritual supplies."

  Bran immediately straightened up and nodded seriously,"Yes, sir!"

  Alaric responded softly as well.

  After finishing the instructions, Draven mounted his Nightmare Horse and set off toward the Monkey Tribe. After the sacrifice, he planned to complete the trade of the Monkey Liquor before heading to Selene City.

  The old Monkey Tribe leader Goldmanes was as enthusiastic as ever. Though old, he was vigorous and spoke with great energy.

  This old monkey had just run out of blood wine and was planning to visit Black Flag Territory personally. But as the only leader-level figure of the Monkey Tribe, he was reluctant to leave his tribe's land easily.

  Draven's arrival was just right for him. The two sat down and exchanged brief pleasantries. Draven pulled several barrels of blood wine from his storage ring, while Goldmanes waved to his people to bring out the treasured Monkey Liquor in return.

  This liquor was strong yet sweet with a powerful aftertaste—a unique brew of the Monkey Tribe.

  After the trade was completed, Draven didn't leave immediately. As usual, he chatted with the old leader about everyday matters. The Monkey Tribe valued face; even trades required a few words about local customs to be considered proper.

  However, during the conversation, Draven suddenly sensed something off. Goldmanes mentioned a piece of news from the Rhino Tribe.

  It was said that near the War God Hills, two intermediate-level short-horned bulls suddenly went missing. The Rhinos panicked, suspecting a powerful high-level magical beast appeared in the area.

  Draven nearly spat out the wine in his mouth.

  "Me? A high-level magical beast?" he cursed inwardly but forced an expression of surprise and tension. He sighed and commiserated with Goldmanes.

  Once the mood eased, he casually changed the subject and asked about the Rhinos' recent situation, but inside he was alert.

  It had only been two or three days since he caught the bulls, yet the Golden Monkey Tribe had already heard news from the Rhinos. The speed of the message revealed an unusual relationship between the two tribes.