It was Draven who made the shot. He aimed at the Mud-Armored Boar, and with one swift, clean arrow, pierced straight through the thick skull of the beast.

  The arrow, fast and precise like a bullet, hit its mark. The Mud-Armored Boar let out a jolt, then collapsed, unmoving.

  Draven didn't step forward right away. Instead, he remained at the edge of the forest, curiously observing the monkeyfolk.

  He had helped them purely because this group looked remarkably different from the monkeyfolk he was familiar with.

  Most monkeyfolk he'd encountered were macaque-like—fierce-faced, hot-tempered, and always ready to flee at the slightest provocation, often leaving a trail of chaos behind them.

  But the ones before him were covered in soft, pale golden fur, with a faint bluish sheen on their cheeks, upturned nostrils, and alert, intelligent expressions.

  They looked just like golden snub-nosed monkeys. If not for the animal hides and spears, Draven might have mistaken them for humans.

  The golden-furred monkeyfolk clearly knew someone had just saved them from danger.

  An elderly male with graying fur and a weathered face scanned the woods until his eyes locked on Draven, standing a short distance away among the trees.

  After confirming Draven was an intelligent beastkin like themselves, the elder visibly relaxed, a rare smile appearing on his face as he waved at him.

  The others, drawn by the gesture, quietly gathered around the old monkeyfolk, silently standing by his side.

  Looking at the group of slender, agile golden monkeyfolk, Draven felt an unexpected sense of kinship.

  Though he knew they were beastkin like himself, something about them stirred a natural warmth within him.

  He stepped forward. The elderly monkeyfolk placed a clenched fist over his chest and repeatedly expressed his gratitude in his native tongue.

  Draven glanced around and realized that among the dozen or so present, only this old man possessed the aura of a bloodline-strong individual—the rest were ordinary tribe members.

  Clearly, their lives hadn't been easy.

  Returning the gesture with a fist to his chest, Draven introduced himself as the chieftain of a neighboring territory. He explained that he had only recently arrived and had been out surveying his land when he heard the commotion and came to help.

  "A new neighbor to the north?" the elderly monkeyfolk's eyes lit up.

  His respect for Draven as a chieftain-level warrior was evident—he repeatedly addressed him as "Honorable Lord Draven," his tone filled with reverence.

  "I am Aurelings, and on behalf of the Golden Monkeyfolk, I sincerely invite you to visit our village," he said earnestly, making it hard to refuse.

  Draven hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded. On one hand, their shared bloodline gave him a sense of natural closeness; on the other, their polite and orderly behavior left a strong, favorable impression.

  At Aurelings' insistence, Draven packed up the Mud-Armored Boar's body and prepared to follow.

  The golden monkeyfolk led the way, guiding him through dense woods and into a deep canyon. At the far end, halfway up the mountainside, lay their village.

  It was less a village and more a natural cave system they had converted into a dwelling. Inside, they had made extensive modifications—stone benches, stone chairs, and beds lined the wide, clean space, giving it a surprisingly comfortable appearance.

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  Inside stood the golden monkeyfolk's chieftain, Goldmanes, who appeared even older than Aurelings. His complexion was pale, his breath weak, and he looked worn and frail.

  However, two younger warriors stood behind him—both full of energy and in their prime, with firm, resolute gazes.

  The golden monkeyfolk received their guest with great warmth. Goldmanes, in a gentle tone, expressed heartfelt gratitude to Draven, the black wolfkin chieftain.

  Before long, a heap of freshly picked fruits—vividly colored and delightfully fragrant—was piled before Draven.

  Though physically weak, Goldmanes was clearly intrigued by his new neighbor and kept asking Draven questions about his territory.

  During their chat, Goldmanes expressed strong interest in Selene City, his eyes shining with longing whenever the place was mentioned.

  Casually, Draven learned that Goldmanes was aware his days were numbered. Among his people, there was currently no other chieftain-level warrior capable of replacing him.

  The old chief admitted his worries: once he passed, the tribe might not survive the harsh wilderness.

  And indeed, a tribe without a leader is the most likely to collapse.

  The wilderness teems with countless dangers. Without the protection of powerful guardians, a single misstep could lead to the annihilation of an entire tribe.

  Every community in this harsh environment must tread carefully, constantly on alert. Even the smallest mistake could become the fatal blow.

  Fortunately, the succubi were highly adaptable. Under Selene's protection, displaced beastkin still had a chance to rebuild and rise again.

  Draven understood this well, feeling both relieved and burdened. After all, this path was far from easy.

  He paused for a moment, then finally broke the silence and slowly shared his past.

  The aging golden monkey chieftain listened with rare joy lighting his face, as though he had glimpsed the first light of hope.

  He quickly motioned for his tribesmen to bring out their wine, his expression filled with eagerness and relief.

  These golden monkey folk had lived in the wilds for generations. Though they had heard tales of the black wolf chieftain from afar, unease still lingered in their hearts.

  After all, the wilderness was ruthless. Without a strong leader, even the sturdiest tribe could falter. But now, with the black wolves' survival standing before them, the monkey chieftain finally shed his long-held burden.

  When Draven heard they were bringing wine, he expected their traditional bloodwine—potent liquor infused with blood and magic.

  To his surprise, what they brought out was a fruit wine with a rich, fragrant aroma. The liquid was amber in color, thick and glossy, slowly pouring from the jar into a rough stone bowl, releasing an irresistible scent.

  Draven lifted the bowl and took a sniff. The fruity fragrance was laced with complex herbal notes that whetted his appetite.

  He took a small sip, then downed the rest in one go, a look of approval flashing in his eyes.

  "This is excellent wine!" he couldn't help but praise.

  Goldmanes, the golden monkey chieftain, beamed with pride and pointed at himself with a bright smile.

  "This is our tribe's specialty—Monkey Wine. Our ancestors developed it by studying wild monkeys in the mountains and blending it with special magical herbs."

  Draven nodded and looked around. Many of the tribespeople appeared as elderly as Goldmanes. Their expressions were calm, but their bodies bore the marks of time.

  Among beastkin, unless they belonged to long-lived species, lifespans were limited.

  In the black wolf tribe, ordinary members lived about as long as humans. Bloodline-awakened warriors could live for two or three centuries, while chieftains might reach four or five.

  "This wine doesn't just taste good—it has a special property," Goldmanes said with a gentle smile.

  "It extends life. You see, many in our village live much longer than average."

  Draven fell into brief contemplation, his interest in the wine's miraculous effects deepening.

  To return the gesture, he retrieved a wine pouch from his storage ring, filled with bloodwine. As he poured a bowl of the crimson liquid, the golden monkeys' eyes lit up with surprise.

  Goldmanes carefully lifted the bowl and took a cautious sip. His eyes immediately brightened, but then he lowered the bowl with a hint of sorrow.

  Draven noticed the change and hesitated, wondering if the wine was not to the elder's taste. Before he could ask, Goldmanes spoke first.

  "Please don't misunderstand. The wine is excellent."

  "But with just a sip, I could feel my bloodline stirring, my strength slowly returning."

  "If only I could drink a bowl of this every day… perhaps our tribe could hold out until a new chieftain emerges."

  Hearing this, Draven's heart lifted. Without hesitation, he handed the wine pouch to Goldmanes.

  "Please take it, Chieftain. I have more where this came from."

  Goldmanes stood up in shock. Though his steps were unsteady, his spirit was renewed. His eyes shone with uncertainty and hope.

  "Do you mean… your tribe knows how to brew bloodwine?"

  "Our people are willing to trade the Monkey Wine recipe in exchange!"

  Draven watched the excited Goldmanes with a faint smile but didn't answer right away.

  Indeed, they did possess the secret to brewing bloodwine—but the method required five massive ceramic vats, which were not easily lent out, let alone shared as a recipe.

  However, exchanging the wine itself was another matter.

  He gestured for Goldmanes to sit and wait patiently for his emotions to settle. Then he began to share his thoughts.