The news of the ogres moving north quickly reached Selene, the leader of the succubus clan.

  She had been basking in the joy of her recent plunder, but a thin beast-skin messenger report instantly plunged her mood into the depths.

  It was intelligence from Black Flag Territory, concerning the close ties between the werewolf leader Draven and the elven princess.

  Selene knew very well that information coming through such channels was almost never wrong.

  Without hesitation, she summoned Cedric.

  "Find out exactly what the ogres are up to."

  Cedric nodded without asking questions and left immediately.

  Though alert, Selene did not panic right away. She understood that although the ogres had begun marching north, it would still take some time before they truly breached succubus territory.

  Her troops could use this time to speed up their plundering, gathering as much food and supplies as possible.

  Yet even so, a nagging anxiety crept into her heart. Because she knew that while ogres were terrifying, the hunger that came with winter was even more dreadful.

  This news disrupted her carefully planned looting schedule. If they failed to stockpile enough food before the ogre army's arrival, then even if they successfully repelled the enemy, the succubus clan would still face dire straits during the long winter.

  The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became, and her anger unconsciously turned toward Draven.

  "If he hadn't entangled himself with the elven princess and brought those meddlesome fools here, why would my lands suffer again and again?"

  She narrowed her eyes, her expression icy, and a new plan began to form in her mind.

  Black Flag Territory now nearly occupied the entire Divine War Hills; this rapid expansion was no secret.

  What annoyed her more was that she risked her life fighting on the front lines, while Draven was safely expanding his power base behind the scenes.

  He parades as the good guy, feeding me intelligence, yet secretly grows stronger?

  She snorted coldly, her decision made. Since that was the case, she would strike first— she had already set her sights on the werewolf leader.

  Draven was completely unaware of this. Out of responsibility, he had simply passed along the intelligence promptly, never imagining it would bring him trouble.

  If he knew Selene was scheming against him, he would probably have regretted sending that report.

  Meanwhile, deeper beyond Black Flag Territory, the real force driving the ogres northward was neither simple revenge nor resource competition.

  It was Ronan's command— the most dangerous presence behind the blood elf clan.

  The two great blood elf lords, Zora and her twin sister Bella, sat quietly kneeling in the hall, their minds full of questions.

  They looked at Ronan, lazily reclining on the bed, trying to read something from his face.

  "Why send the ogres north?" Zora asked cautiously, her tone gentle but unable to hide her inner doubt.

  Ronan was leisurely peeling grapes. When he heard her question, he suddenly cast a cold glance at her.

  The atmosphere turned oppressive. Zora realized she had crossed a line and immediately lowered her head to kneel. However, she had already angered him.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  The next moment, Ronan kicked her off the bed.

  The dignified high lord fell to the cold floor like a servant, not daring to utter a sound, only trembling as she endured the pain and knelt back properly.

  Bella sat stiffly nearby. After Ronan left, she hurried to help her sister up.

  Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered,"Sister, is this really all there is for our blood elf clan? Must we always live like this?"

  Her voice was barely audible, but it caused Zora's expression to change dramatically.

  "Don't say another word!" Zora suddenly covered Bella's mouth, her eyes complicated, shaking her head slightly.

  Ever since Ronan became a demigod, they had no choice left.

  At that moment, Ronan had already left the hall and gone alone to a sealed chamber.

  He stood before a statue, where a jet-black insect cocoon quietly floated in midair— Torvald's shedding shell.

  He pressed his palm against the cocoon, sensing the energy fluctuations within. His eyes flickered but he shook his head gently.

  "Poor potential," he whispered to himself.

  Though Torvald had been acknowledged by the gods, he was still not the kind of person Ronan truly valued. Even if the transformation succeeded, it would not bring him much help.

  The power of the Elven Kingdom remained strong. Even though he had once severely injured a demigod-level powerhouse and allied with the human forces from the south to hold the enemy in check, he understood well:

  To truly wipe out the High Elven race completely, relying on his own strength alone was far from enough. He needed more, stronger reinforcements.

  After receiving a divine oracle, he gained a faint insight—Selene, who had not yet fully risen in the north, might just be the key force he needed.

  This was one of the reasons he sent his subordinates northward again. If not for the Elven Kingdom's vigilant gaze constantly watching his moves, making it difficult for him to dispatch more troops, that northern Selene would have already been brought before him.

  "I hope this time the ogres can complete the mission; otherwise, I'll have no choice but to let you hatch early…" Ronan murmured, slowly stroking the black cocoon before him.

  As if responding to his words, the cocoon trembled slightly, emitting warm waves of energy.

  Meanwhile, inside the Black Flag Territory, Draven stared in astonishment at Thorin, who was covered head to toe in mud. Originally, Thorin was only supposed to try to make contact with the Mud People tribe—how did he end up in such a state?

  Thorin's entire body was coated in mud, his face smeared with thick dust, and his hair clumped together in strands, looking as disheveled as a farmer just tumbled out of the fields.

  If not for the metal badge of leadership hanging on his chest, no one would have recognized him as the high chief of the Black Tiger tribe.

  Thorin could have cleaned himself up before seeing Draven, but feeling guilty about the fruitlessness of this trip and fearing reproach from his chief, he followed the advice of the old monkey man Goldmanes and kept this pitiful appearance to honestly report back.

  After temporarily stationing the Black Tiger tribe people in the Golden Monkey Village, Thorin and Goldmanes immediately began deploying the monkey folk to surrounding villages for stability as Draven had instructed.

  But before they could rest, the two started thinking about how to contact the Mud People tribe to the west.

  Neither had ever dealt with the Mud People tribe before, so after some deliberation, they decided to cut through formalities and directly brought several jars of monkey wine as a gift.

  At first, everything went smoothly—until they entered that deep pit area.

  A sudden oppressive feeling struck them; from within the pit rose a powerful aura comparable to Thorin himself. The Mud People tribe showed no intent to negotiate and directly manipulated the mud to launch attacks.

  Thorin managed to hold off the mud flying from all directions, but the aged Goldmanes quickly became overwhelmed and flustered.

  With no choice, Thorin shielded him while retreating and forcefully broke through the encirclement.

  Strangely, once they left the pit, all the mud attacks suddenly vanished as if they had never existed.

  The two were covered in mud and exchanged glances, both developing a desire to withdraw. Forcing negotiations was not only untimely but might also anger the Mud People tribe further.

  They ultimately decided to report the situation truthfully and let Draven make the final decision.

  Goldmanes thoughtfully passed this unpleasant task onto Thorin and even gave him the trick to appear pitiful, which is why Draven now saw a mud-covered Black Tiger chief before him.

  After hearing Thorin's story, a smile of restrained amusement flickered on Draven's face. He had long suspected that Thorin was being manipulated by that old monkey.

  Though aged, Goldmanes was very shrewd. Compared to those quick-to-fight demi-human warriors, he was better at solving problems with his mind.

  "So… you didn't bring back any intelligence?" Draven's voice was low but left no room for denial.

  Thorin looked ashamed and lowered his head, lacking even the courage to argue. In this encounter with the Mud People tribe, he never truly reached their core figures, let alone gathered intelligence.

  Draven was silent for a moment, then gestured for him to withdraw.

  What seemed like a simple mission had turned out this way, leaving him somewhat helpless. His thoughts gradually delved deeper.

  Although he had many capable people under his command, he could not personally handle everything. He couldn't intervene in every single matter himself.

  Since Thorin had failed, then add one more person.

  "Elira…" he whispered, the image of the Leopard Tribe's female chief appearing in his mind.

  Two high chiefs, and yet they still can't keep a mud tribe in check?