In the following two days, Draven had to make the most of his time, thoroughly patrolling the borders and marking the paths along the way to ensure nothing was missed.

  Perhaps because he had driven away that group of serpentmen earlier, or because the serpentmen deliberately avoided his territory, he hadn't encountered any other traces of them during these two days.

  The lands to the north were almost entirely serpentmen territory. This made Draven uneasy. He understood that this race's power had far exceeded that of ordinary small clans.

  The strength of his neighbors wasn't necessarily good news for him. Especially this group of serpentmen, who were infamous for their cunning and cruelty—everyone knew they excelled at using poisons and snakes as weapons.

  Draven stood on the northern high ground, his gaze heavy, his thoughts in turmoil. He couldn't find a suitable solution for the moment and could only slink back to the village, instructing Rurik and Bran to keep a close watch on the northern activity.

  For this reason, he specifically ordered Ghost-faced Owl to relocate to the northern bank of the great river.

  This clever hawk could keenly detect distant movements, and if the serpentmen dared come near again, it must report immediately.

  "Next time, I won't hold back," Draven silently vowed.

  However, what surprised him was that the next time came faster than he had expected.

  When Ghost-faced Owl sent an alert, Draven immediately rode Ragnar in a fury and rushed to the opposite bank of the great river.

  Upon arrival, he saw only a single serpentman—alone, calm, and not in the least intimidated by Draven's imposing presence.

  This serpentman was not a rude or brutal warrior but rather polite and respectful, introducing himself as a messenger of the serpentmen.

  "I am an envoy from the serpentmen clan, here to greet our new neighbor," the serpentman said calmly, but there was a chilling undertone in his voice. "Our clan leader invites the werewolf chief to a meeting."

  Draven was stunned, and alarm bells immediately rang in his mind.

  This invitation was obviously not a simple courtesy. He knew the serpentmen were masters of scheming; there was definitely some trickery involved.

  If he refused the invitation, he feared being seen as weak, which would only encourage the serpentmen to encroach even more recklessly on his territory;

  If he accepted, he worried it was a trap, and if he were caught in a scheme, the consequences would be disastrous.

  He was silent for a few seconds, took a deep breath to steady his emotions, and finally decided to accept the invitation.

  "I will come to visit in person tomorrow," he said coldly, dismissing the envoy.

  Watching the serpentman gradually disappear into the distance, his expression darkened further, and a cold gleam flashed in his eyes.

  He knew that Ragnar and his Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent were tough contenders among leaders, and most opponents wouldn't dare underestimate him. When facing the serpentmen clan, showing weakness was out of the question.

  This was a principle recognized by all Beastkin clans.

  Draven set off back to the village, rapidly calculating tomorrow's itinerary in his mind. He must bring the Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent with him. Since the village's defenses were already thin, Rurik and Bran's hunting activities had to be suspended, and all armed forces would stay behind to guard the village.

  Back in the great house, the firelight flickered across his face as he began organizing defenses and assigning duties to his subordinates.

  Bran was unwilling and insisted on accompanying him. "I can't let you go on this adventure alone!"

  Others also showed worried expressions.

  Draven suppressed them without hesitation. "We're already short-handed; one more won't help."

  He agreed with them that if he had not returned by sunset tomorrow, Rurik would lead everyone to leave this dangerous land and return to Selene City.

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  "Don't think about revenge," he said heavily. "Keeping the kids alive is more important than anything."

  These words brought tears to Viola's eyes, and she couldn't hold back her tears. Even usually carefree Bran silently bowed his head, no longer arguing.

  Seeing this, Draven forced a dry laugh and tried to lighten the mood by boasting about his fighting prowess.

  "Remember, I don't lose easily," he said, raising his chin. "I'll come back tomorrow with gifts for you all!"

  But everyone remained silent, and the atmosphere stayed heavy.

  That night, the mood suddenly shifted.

  The little fox girl Viola, usually shy, became unusually passionate, clinging to Draven with fiery emotion.

  Before Draven could react, he realized she was crying heavily in his arms.

  "Let's have a baby, Draven," she whispered with a choked voice, her eyes full of a complicated mix of hope and fear.

  Draven smiled wryly but found himself unable to refuse the little fox girl Viola's enthusiasm. Her initiative left him no choice but to comply, so he resigned himself to playing the role of a mount, allowing her loving touches to entwine him.

  Early the next morning, Draven quietly got up without waking the still-sleeping Viola. He carefully pushed open the door and slipped out gently.

  What he didn't notice was that although Viola lay with her eyes tightly shut, tears silently streamed down her cheeks, revealing the deep worry and reluctance in her heart.

  Outside the door, Rurik and Bran were already waiting early. Their postures were upright and expressions serious, clearly anxious about today's journey.

  Seeing this, Draven frowned, then kicked Rurik with a sour look. "What's with you two? Usually I have to drag you out of bed, but today you come early?"

  "Go back to sleep, don't make it look like we're going to a funeral!"

  The two looked helpless and turned away, disappearing into the darkness of the village.

  Draven took a deep breath, mounted Ragnar, and with a heavy heart, forded the great river. The air on the opposite bank instantly turned cold, and several serpentmen were already waiting for him there.

  A cold gleam flashed in Draven's eyes as he muttered to himself, "Daring to wait for guests on someone else's turf? Treating it like their own home?"

  He knew well that no one would allow an enemy to trespass so brazenly into their territory.

  Despite his displeasure, he suppressed his emotions and gestured for the serpentmen to lead the way.

  Setting off from the border, they traveled steadily until afternoon, when they finally arrived at the serpentmen tribe's village.

  It was located at the end of a rugged canyon, surrounded by towering stone cliffs. The canyon's sides were dotted with caves of all shapes—some with narrow openings barely wide enough for a finger, others large enough for carts and horses to pass through.

  The continuous hissing sounds filled the air, making one feel as if standing in a true snake's nest.

  A tall wall spanned the canyon's mouth, tightly enclosing the entire village. The wall stretched two or three miles, thick and sturdy, showing the serpentmen's strength and tight defenses.

  In front of the gate stood a well-equipped squad of serpentmen, formed up in readiness. Leading them was a serpentman whose head was covered with gleaming emerald-green scales, tall and imposing.

  Since serpentmen had no hair, their foreheads to the back of their necks were covered with scales, and the dense green scales on his head looked like a natural helmet.

  Draven dismounted from Ragnar, and the surrounding serpentmen cast approving glances his way, even emitting low, welcoming sounds. The leader introduced himself as the Elder Green Serpent, explaining that this was a hereditary title in his family.

  Draven had originally thought this man was the serpentmen clan leader, but was surprised to learn he was only the third elder.

  Hearing this, Draven's heart sank. It turned out the serpentmen's power structure was more complex than he had imagined, with at least four leaders at the top. These people before him were all more influential figures.

  This was a clear sign—they meant to show off their strength from the very beginning.

  Draven showed no sign of hesitation and calmly introduced himself. Under the guidance of Elder Green Serpent, he stepped through the gate.

  Compared to the shabby village of the Black Flag Territory he knew, this place was like a miniature Selene City.

  The streets were wide and neatly laid out, with many areas clearly modeled after Selene City's design.

  Even the leader's residence was magnificent, very similar to the lord's palace in Selene City. The only unsettling detail was the snake totems carved everywhere—sinister and cold.

  Following Elder Green Serpent, Draven entered the leader's hall. Three serpentmen sat in the middle of the room. Upon seeing him enter, they did not stand but simply smiled at the werewolf chief.

  Was this a tacit permission for him to perform the greeting first? Draven ignored the nuance and walked to a side seat, sitting down with a smile while watching them.

  The atmosphere was somewhat tense. After a moment, the serpentman in the main seat slightly nodded. Elder Green Serpent cleared his throat and smiled, "My mind almost slipped—I forgot to introduce you all."

  "This is Lord Draven, leader of the Black Wolf clan across the great river."

  "Lord Draven, this is our serpentmen clan leader, Lord Red Serpent. These two are the First Elder Black Serpent and Second Elder White Serpent."

  Draven deliberately pretended not to notice the subtle glances exchanged between them, and politely responded to their greetings one by one.

  The Red Serpent leader's head was covered with crimson-red scales, his aura clearly more imposing than Draven's, though his exact strength was hard to gauge.

  He was burly and strong, unlike other serpentmen who were slender.

  His vertical pupils were deep and dignified, originally meant to look formidable, but lacking a beard, he seemed to lack some masculine gravitas, which felt a bit strange.

  The First Elder Black Serpent was pitch black around the mouth and eyes, as if heavily smoked with makeup, hiding entirely within a black robe, giving off a sinister and secretive vibe. He appeared to be the schemer manipulating power from behind the scenes.

  The Second Elder White Serpent was quite different—she was a female serpentman. Her skin was fair, and her silver-white scales shimmered under the light. She wore a light, sheer scarf wrapped around her head. Her appearance carried an exotic charm, both mysterious and alluring.