Gareth's ashes had long been scattered in the forest, and retrieving them was almost impossible.

  Though Draven felt some regret, faced with the reality before him, he quickly pushed his memories of Gareth aside.

  What mattered more now was the jar of monkeywine in his hands—and the hope it represented.

  At dinner time, Draven brought out a freshly brewed jar of monkeywine, ready to share this hard-earned achievement with everyone.

  As they drank, listening to Draven recount the origin of the wine and the changes it might bring, smiles—long absent—returned to their faces.

  Especially Bran, a straightforward and hearty fellow, who repeatedly patted his chest and said, "With this wine, we've got to catch more magical beasts and brew more bloodwine. Our village can't fall behind!" His words greatly lifted everyone's spirits.

  Draven didn't immediately dampen their enthusiasm, but he knew well that magical beasts weren't so easy to catch—it wasn't something a few people could handle alone.

  However, when he glanced toward the rocky nest of the Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent in the distance, he secretly considered that place might become their future breakthrough point.

  Bloodwine was undoubtedly the most vital resource they currently controlled.

  As long as they had bloodwine, the village's future would be truly secure. Thinking this, Draven felt confident about the days ahead.

  In comparison, monkeywine seemed less precious; drinking it excessively wouldn't cause major problems. Once the jar was opened, everyone began to drink heartily.

  The Black Wolf tribe was known for their remarkable alcohol tolerance, and with several Firefox tribe friends joining in, everyone took turns raising their cups. The monkeywine in the jar soon ran dry.

  After finishing the wine, the group was only slightly tipsy, still reluctant to stop while their spirits remained high. Draven could only shift his attention elsewhere to pass the time.

  Poor little fox girl—she spent the whole night intoxicated, her energy almost completely drained. He sighed at her astonishing vitality.

  At dawn the next day, Draven set out early for the cave where the Golden Monkey tribe lived.

  He had to quickly complete the handover of the bloodwine. Once the bloodwine was successfully delivered, Draven began patrolling the southern border.

  When he saw the elderly Golden Monkey chieftain accept the bloodwine with a satisfied smile, he felt a bit conflicted.

  He felt like he had lost out in this deal—it should have been three jars for one! He secretly cursed his own greed.

  This busy and exhausting trip finally completed Draven's inspection of the southern border.

  The route on the map gradually formed a complete semicircle.

  Except for the roughly one-tenth area of U-shaped forest at the center of the map, most large areas remained unexplored.

  Next, Draven planned to turn his attention to the northern border and, after patrolling it, take a temporary pause.

  At present, the resources in the canyon forest were sufficient for the village's survival and development. The more important task was building and consolidating the village.

  Summer had quietly arrived; the weather grew hotter and the rainy season approached.

  The village's little ones were still living in tents.

  Summer nights were unbearably muggy, and the rainy season would be even worse. But the current speed of collecting wood and stone was too slow—Big Bear and his crew worked desperately but still couldn't keep up with demand.

  If it was just a few of them, they would likely fail to build solid houses for the little ones in time.

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  Population was an even bigger problem. The village had only about a hundred people; to survive, they still had to build and expand, which was truly difficult.

  Beastkin population growth depended on two ways: birth and plunder.

  The natural birth cycle was too long; the existing children wouldn't grow up to be capable for at least ten years. They couldn't be relied on to support the village for now.

  Although plundering for people was the fastest method, their foundation was still unstable, and rash actions would bring greater risks.

  Therefore, many important matters had to be handled personally by Draven.

  He couldn't escape it; the work was endless, and there were always more tasks to do.

  Draven often envied the Golden Monkey tribe.

  Although they also faced issues with generational succession, their foundation was strong and their tribe numbered in the hundreds—an impressive force.

  He even wondered if he could hire some Golden Monkeys to help with village construction.

  But since the two groups had just established contact and trust was lacking, he never had the courage to bring up the idea.

  Draven shook his head, folded up the map, and urged Ragnar to hurry back to the village. He knew this matter needed to be resolved quickly and couldn't be delayed any longer.

  Meanwhile, at a mine controlled by the Succubus clan, the situation was tense. The troll guards originally responsible for escorting the mineral shipments had not shown up for a long time, driving the mine manager nearly mad with worry.

  Minerals piled up like mountains, severely impacting the extraction progress. According to the agreement, the troll guards should have already departed for Selene City with the minerals, but the escort team was nowhere to be seen, and the shipment was still empty.

  With no other choice, the mine manager sent a messenger to Selene City to urge an update on the situation.

  Unexpectedly, the messenger returned not only with an escort team but also with an envoy from Selene. This news both surprised and delighted the mine manager, yet also raised suspicions in his mind.

  He quickly inquired further and discovered that this escort team was not the one originally promised.

  According to the arrangements by Lydia, the chief steward, the troll leader Garruk was supposed to divert to the mine after completing the escort task to provide support. The timelines matched, but the outcome was completely wrong.

  Troll leader Garruk and his squad had not only failed to arrive at the mine, but there was no trace of their return to Selene City either. The entire ten-person escort squad had mysteriously disappeared!

  In Selene City, this was no trivial matter. A mid-level leader disappearing along with his guards without reason had huge repercussions.

  The envoy from Selene confirmed that Garruk's group had never come near the mine and grew visibly anxious.

  After weighing the situation, the harpy envoy decided to first fly to the werewolf territory to investigate and search for Garruk's whereabouts.

  At this moment, Draven was still unaware of these developments. He was busy patrolling the borders. Standing on his own territory, his face darkened like a sky full of storm clouds.

  Riding the giant wolf Ragnar, he crossed the river and arrived at the territory north of the Black Flag Territory.

  The terrain here was still hilly, separated from the south only by a river, but the northern hills were higher and seemed richer in resources.

  In theory, this should have been good news. But Draven immediately saw the problem.

  The scattered ashes of campfires, scattered footprints, and trampled grass all told him that his territory was being encroached upon by outside forces.

  A territory left unmanaged for more than a decade had long been treated as hunting grounds by the neighbors. Though he could understand their helplessness, Draven's anger was hard to contain.

  Especially when he saw a group of serpentmen proudly crossing his territory, carrying heavy prey, his rage nearly exploded.

  "Those things belong to me!" Draven roared. Riding Ragnar and wielding his long axe, he directly blocked the path of the serpentmen squad.

  "Drop your prey and leave immediately! Come back again and you'll find death!"

  His voice was not loud but carried an undeniable authority, making the serpentmen panic instantly.

  Serpentmen were notorious among the Beastkin. Cunning and sinister, skilled in manipulating snakes and wielding deadly poisons, they were vicious and merciless.

  Though humanoid in shape, they had no hair on their bodies. From their foreheads, snake scales extended down the back of their necks, and they dragged long snake tails behind them—a sinister and terrifying appearance.

  Unlike the Black Wolf tribe, the serpentmen worshipped a gigantic serpentine guardian beast, somewhere between a wild beast and a magical beast.

  Legend had it that some powerful serpentmen clans guarded this giant serpent for generations. The serpent had an extraordinarily long lifespan and grew alongside the clan over many generations.

  Their combat strength was astonishing, and only serpentmen leaders could control them; otherwise, these wild lands would long have been ruled by the serpentmen.

  However, Draven was prepared. After all, he had been warned by troll leader Garruk himself—who, despite being a mid-level leader, still feared the serpentmen.

  Therefore, Draven did not choose to start a direct battle but coldly ordered them to drop their prey and leave his territory.

  Although Draven was being lenient, the resentful glare from the small serpentmen squad's warriors as they left was deeply imprinted in his mind.

  That look seemed to tell Draven that his territory was a future prize the serpentmen intended to claim.

  Helpless, Draven could only shake his head and sigh.

  He knew there were simply not enough people to manage such a vast territory. Today he drove out these serpentmen—what about tomorrow? The day after?

  Could this be resolved in one day? Constantly guarding against others' sneak attacks, how could he protect every corner?