The weather finally cleared. Although there was another bout of rain in the afternoon, by nightfallc a blood-red full moon hung high in the sky, casting its glow across the land.

  Moonlight filtered through thin clouds, giving the scene an especially somber hue. In the chief's hall of Village No. 2, lamps burned brightly, their warm yellow light spilling from the windows and illuminating the square out front.

  Several bonfires roared on the square, their flames flickering across the faces of the gathered villagers awaiting the ritual.

  Draven moved busily among them, directing both villagers and slaves as they prepared for the evening's sacrificial ceremony. The statue of Selene in this village was much larger than the one in Village No. 1—nearly twice as tall.

  Before the ceremony began, Draven personally cleaned the statue, wiping down every inch with great care. Despite its towering and unsettling presence, he kept his emotions in check. He knew that what he needed most at this moment was devotion and focus.

  Around the altar, offerings were laid out in abundance. The most eye-catching among them was a massive two-headed leopard. Though paralyzed and unconscious from poisonous mushrooms, its fierce aura still radiated from its body.

  It was unmistakably a genuine low-tier, high-rank magical beast—immensely powerful and dangerous.

  A few curious children gathered around it, their courage outweighing their caution. One even poked it lightly with a stick.

  "Get away from there!" Draven barked, scattering the kids. Yet, watching their antics stirred a touch of nostalgia in his heart.

  Back when Alaric and Alec were around, no one dared to misbehave like this. But now both were caught up in their own responsibilities, leaving these little troublemakers unchecked.

  Meanwhile, Village No. 1 was also preparing feverishly for the sacrificial ritual. Though their Selene statue wasn't nearly as large, the offerings they had gathered were equally abundant.

  Bran was shouting out orders to his subordinates, and the whole village buzzed with frenzied activity.

  Among the three villages of the Black Flag Territory, however, Village No. 3 stood out in stark contrast—eerily quiet. The villagers had all retreated to their homes early in the evening.

  Green Serpent sat alone atop the village wall, holding a horn-shaped goblet in his hand, unusually without his usual entourage of handmaidens.

  His gaze was fixed in the direction that once belonged to Snake Village. Though trees and mountains blocked his view, he continued to stare resolutely into the distance.

  Unlike Green Serpent, Gregor had no time for brooding. He was about to ascend to the position of village chief.

  According to the plan, he was neither in the village nor anywhere near the northern bank of the Great River.

  He had brought Serpent Ancestor with him to a waterfall on the eastern edge of their territory. The thundering roar of water crashing down masked all movement and sound around them.

  Behind the waterfall was a hidden cave—a secret base that Gregor and Serpent Ancestor had painstakingly excavated.

  Inside were two magical beasts they had personally captured, and tonight, they would be the key to Gregor's advancement.

  Gregor had kept this operation secret for two reasons: one, to deceive Serpent Ancestor into believing they were still allies working together; and two, to have a secluded place to test the perilous necromancy rituals if his ascension succeeded.

  "Do you really have to be this cautious?" Serpent Ancestor muttered from the mouth of the cave, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily, his voice tinged with impatience.

  "Tonight's ritual consumes all his attention. He won't interfere with us," Gregor replied softly, eyes closed in deep concentration.

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  Sensing the calm resolve in Gregor's gaze, Serpent Ancestor flicked his long tongue, secretly impressed. Only someone this cautious and focused could truly be his ally.

  What Serpent Ancestor didn't know, however, was that all of this was part of Draven's design.

  During the sacrifice, Draven was so overwhelmed that he genuinely didn't have time to monitor Gregor's activities. If Gregor's advancement or necromancy experiments went awry, no one would know immediately.

  Despite the apparent freedom, Draven remained highly alert when it came to Serpent Ancestor. There were certain key matters he would never fully delegate. Without watching them personally, he could never feel at ease.

  Draven double-checked the preparations for the sacrificial ceremony again and again. He dared not allow even the slightest oversight—this night was of utmost importance to the entire village.

  At last, he nodded in satisfaction and instructed Titus to guard the altar, making sure those mischievous little brats wouldn't cause any more trouble. His gaze then shifted to the back of the village, where he decided to inspect things personally.

  In the planting area marked out by Viola, Sylvia was leading several villagers in their tasks. It was the first time the elf had appeared before them in her true form, immediately drawing everyone's attention.

  Tall and graceful, she exuded a natural aura of distinction. Village women paused in their work to stare, their eyes full of admiration and envy.

  Sylvia was preparing to summon a pixie. She needed to set up the magic circle first to ensure the ritual's success.

  By the time Draven arrived, the circle was nearly complete. He watched as Sylvia carefully placed a delicate silver basin atop a stone pillar.

  Though he had seen her elven form before, he couldn't help but steal a few more glances.

  Her white gown fluttered gently in the breeze, as elegant as a blooming lotus. Though it covered most of her figure, Draven could still imagine her long, slender legs beneath it.

  Her silvery hair shimmered under the crimson moonlight, her skin faintly glowing, making her appear like a goddess straight out of a myth.

  Draven swallowed hard, embarrassed to gaze directly at such beauty. He knew well that its impact far surpassed what words could describe.

  He stood quietly at her side, next to the equally entranced Liliana. The girl, however, looked a little downcast, as if she had just suffered a defeat.

  Draven understood her feelings completely. They shared a bed every night—who would have thought she was hiding such a secret?

  He gently rested his chin on Liliana's horn, brushing her with his stubbled cheek, hoping to offer some warmth and comfort.

  As time ticked by, the preparations neared completion. The crimson moon climbed high, painting the sky in blood-red hues. Draven didn't linger—he gave a soft farewell to the group and walked back toward the village square.

  With his return, the sacrificial ritual officially began. Titus barked out commands as villagers and slaves, children in tow, knelt before the statue of Selene.

  The werewolf chieftain began reciting the incantations in an ancient, intricate tongue, his voice laced with a mystical cadence. Those gathered before the statue held their breath, afraid that even the smallest misstep would ruin the blessing of their lord.

  Meanwhile, in Village No.1, their own ceremony was underway. Though Bran stumbled through the complicated ritual, the villagers' devotion never wavered.

  The offerings slowly dissipated, and Bran had no time to feel any changes—he quickly wiped the sweat from his brow. He had spent days memorizing those complex chants for this very moment.

  Far to the east, behind the roaring waterfall, Gregor finally opened his eyes.

  Seated cross-legged on the ground, he slowly raised his right hand. A sharp bone spike burst from his palm and pierced through the two caged beasts beside him in an instant.

  Serpent Ancestor hissed with excitement, eyes full of anticipation and glee. Back in Village No.2, the elf Sylvia had begun her chanting.

  Her voice was soft and clear, more beautiful than any song. Viola and the others instinctively clasped their hands in prayer, silently wishing for a successful summoning.

  Draven's sacrifice went surprisingly smoothly. The two-headed leopard and the other beasts, along with specially brewed bloodwine and monkey liquor, were consumed entirely by the towering statue of Selene, transformed into a strange energy.

  Waves of red light rippled outward like a physical tide, slowly enveloping the entire village.

  Draven tapped the ground with his toe and soared into the air to the villagers' amazement. Using his Shadow Glide ability, he hovered above, surveying the whole village. Only after confirming that the crimson aura fully enclosed the area did he allow himself a satisfied smile.

  He could feel it—this sacrifice's effects were noticeably stronger than Village No.1's. The so-called aura of faith seemed to have finally manifested a tangible form, though the exact nature of its power still required further study.

  But there was no time to dwell on that now. Draven landed steadily, handed command to Titus, and the latter began distributing rewards to the villagers and slaves. Though it was just some simple food and drink, it was enough to ignite cheers and celebration across Village No.2.

  Draven hurried back to the stone house, too preoccupied to even check on Sylvia's summoning. His most important task now was to keep a close eye on Gregor—to make sure Serpent Ancestor didn't pull anything dangerous.

  Normally, Draven's keen second sense allowed him to detect anything unusual. But tonight was different. He had to be extra cautious. Sitting down cross-legged, he calmed his mind and focused all his attention, entering a deep state of awareness.

  And then, everything unfolding within Gregor's body became as clear to him as if he were experiencing it firsthand.