Draven smiled calmly. "Just one sentence from Elder Green Serpent, and you think you can take half my territory?"

  "My lands aren't on your side of the river. Don't forget—this side belongs half to me too."

  His tone was unhurried, even casual, but the meaning was sharp and direct. He had just rejected the elder's subtle claim outright.

  Green Serpent's earlier words, which sounded casual on the surface, were actually a test—and a declaration. He was probing, trying to imply the land should be split down the middle.

  They had only just finished introducing themselves, and already the air was growing tense.

  "A slip of the tongue," the Green Serpent elder said with an awkward chuckle, trying to smooth things over. He quickly changed the subject and waved his hand to order food and wine.

  Servants moved swiftly between the long tables, their actions clean and practiced. Clearly, they had been well-trained.

  In no time, the table was filled with a feast—wild rabbit stew, fish braised in strawberry sauce, marinated beef spine, and a green-tinted liquor that glowed faintly in its crystal bottle, infused with bear bile.

  But Draven saw through it all with a glance. This wasn't a feast. It was a test.

  He sat in silence, his eyes scanning each dish, but he didn't touch a single bite.

  "Chief Red Serpent. Elders," he said evenly, "thank you for your hospitality. But I'm not someone who enjoys small talk. If there's something you want, let's just get straight to it."

  He didn't even look at the bear bile wine.

  A brief stillness settled over the room.

  Red Serpent's pupils narrowed slightly on the main seat. His vertical eyes gleamed like blades. He was clearly displeased, though he held his temper.

  He had his own reasons to be cautious.

  From the moment Draven had stepped into their hall, he carried a quiet pressure with him that never faded. Red Serpent had tried to gauge his strength—but saw nothing.

  That was not normal.

  Either Draven was hiding his power, or he was simply far above them.

  Red Serpent knew very well—if things got ugly, and he still didn't know what Draven was capable of, it wouldn't be a sure victory. It could be a humiliating defeat.

  Draven, on the other hand, had noticed their probing from the start. Though his face remained calm, he was sneering inside.

  He had long since mastered the art of concealing his aura. Unless someone was stronger than a Lord, they wouldn't be able to sense a thing.

  "Werewolves sure are blunt," Red Serpent finally said, his voice low. "In that case, let's not beat around the bush."

  He leaned back in his chair and raised a hand. His tone was calm, but a certain pressure crept into his words.

  "Lord Draven, as you can see, our serpentfolk numbers are large. Feeding everyone is not easy."

  "So we hope your people can temporarily lend us a portion of the northern lands for settlement and resource gathering."

  Lend?

  Draven scoffed internally, though he wore a troubled look on his face.

  He sighed, as if hesitant, then slowly pulled something from within his robe.

  It was the Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent.

  Its entire body was pale gray, with crisp, distinct markings and perfectly aligned scales. It coiled silently in Draven's hand, not making a sound.

  Draven lifted it, admiring it like a rare treasure, then sighed again—this time with theatrical resignation.

  "It's true. My people can't match your numbers."

  "But as it happens, I have a pet with a very particular appetite."

  "This little one raises hell if it doesn't get fresh meat every day. That land in the north? I keep it just for him—lots of prey, lots of snakes. He loves the flavor."

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  As he spoke, several serpentfolk at the table turned pale.

  Green Serpent's reaction was even worse. The moment he saw the fine patterns on the small snake's body, he jumped up from his seat, face going white.

  "Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent!" he blurted.

  The hall fell instantly silent.

  Several serpentfolk instinctively backed away a few steps, as if facing something truly terrifying.

  Red Serpent's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his lips tightening.

  The Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent was no ordinary snake.

  It was a predator that fed exclusively on other serpents. Known as the natural enemy of snakekind, it was a near-taboo existence in the serpentfolk culture.

  It didn't just pose a threat to serpentine magical beasts—it had a natural suppressive power over the snakefolk subspecies themselves. The bloodline-level intimidation instinctively tensed the nerves of every snake-person present.

  Red Serpent's expression changed almost instantly. Even as a high-ranking leader, he couldn't suppress the primal fear.

  A werewolf chief whose strength couldn't be read, casually handling a mid-tier Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent, with a killing-aura-laced giant wolf looming behind him.

  These three elements alone were enough to neutralize—or even threaten—their entire group of four leaders.

  A heavy feeling settled in Red Serpent's chest. The confidence he had in controlling the situation was slowly being eaten away. He began to doubt whether he truly held the upper hand. He knew that if they acted rashly, the outcome of a fight would be anything but certain.

  At that moment, his attitude finally changed.

  Red Serpent forced a stiff smile, squeezing out a hint of strained politeness. "Since Your Excellency is unwilling to lend the land, then let it be. Our snakefolk will not press the matter."

  Green Serpent quickly stepped forward to smooth things over. "Indeed, just a misunderstanding. Lord Draven, perhaps put your pet away first? There's no need for things to turn unpleasant between us."

  Draven's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. He didn't put the snake away immediately. Instead, he gently stroked the head of the king serpent.

  He let out a subtle breath—his gamble had worked.

  "Well, since everyone's being so reasonable, I won't overstay my welcome," Draven said as he stood up, his voice calm. "This fellow's extremely hungry. If I don't get it fed soon, it'll be restless all night."

  The words sounded casual, but they struck the snakefolk like nails into their hearts.

  Who dared try to make him stay? What if that Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent got hungry here—would they have to provide its meal? And who'd be unlucky enough to be on the menu?

  Red Serpent barely maintained his smile. "Then we won't keep you. Safe travels."

  Draven nodded and turned to leave.

  It wasn't until he stepped off snakefolk territory and back onto his own land that he truly exhaled. He felt as if ten pounds of pressure had been lifted from his body.

  He muttered under his breath, "These snakes are no joke."

  Especially Red Serpent and that silent Black Serpent. The pressure they gave off was reminiscent of Lydia, the steward from Selene City—an indisputably high-ranking powerhouse.

  Four serpentfolk leaders, with at least two suspected high-tier powerhouses hidden in their ranks—and that was just their visible strength.

  To make things worse, their guardian beast had yet to appear. Draven even suspected they were hiding deeper cards.

  He looked down at the little snake in his hands—not with pride, but with caution.

  "Getting out of there alive was entirely thanks to this one backing me up. If I hadn't brought it…"

  He didn't dare finish the thought.

  ......

  Meanwhile, back in the snakefolk's main hall, the atmosphere was heavy.

  Draven had just left when Black Serpent spoke coldly, his voice like an icy blade.

  "Why didn't we strike? That Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent may be scary, but it's only a mid-tier beast. Any one of us could've killed it."

  Red Serpent sat at the head of the table, expression unreadable. He wasn't offended by Black Serpent's questioning—he simply scratched his head slowly, as if pondering something.

  "Do you think Selene sent that guy to linger around us because they've sensed something?"

  Black Serpent's pupils narrowed. Red Serpent's words hit him like a hammer.

  He turned sharply to Green Serpent, his glare sharp. "Didn't you say this brat was just a low-tier leader?!"

  "I personally inspected their camp by the river," Green Serpent said nervously, shrinking his neck. "He was a low-tier leader at the time… Maybe he advanced recently?"

  "Advanced that quickly?" Black Serpent sneered, his face full of disbelief.

  Red Serpent waved a hand. "Enough. It's easy to fool your kind of perception."

  He wasn't going to blame Green Serpent for the error. This degree of misjudgment wasn't worth pursuing. What really troubled him was the background behind that werewolf.

  A leader-level warrior who might've broken into high-tier, casually carrying an Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent? No ordinary clan had that kind of strength.

  He couldn't help but glance at the shadowy figure in the corner—silent from beginning to end.

  "White Serpent, what do you think?"

  White Serpent kept his head lowered, eyes half-closed. After a few seconds, he finally spoke in a slow, quiet tone. "He's strong."

  "No kidding…" Green Serpent muttered under his breath, about to retort, but Red Serpent nodded.

  "Indeed, very strong," Red Serpent said gravely. "And patient."

  "Didn't you notice? The entire time, he never showed true killing intent, yet still made us wary. That kind of presence—an average schemer could never achieve it."

  The hall fell silent again. No one spoke, but in each of their minds, the same question echoed—

  Who is backing this werewolf?

  ......

  Elsewhere, just arriving at the riverbank, Draven spotted Rurik and Bran from afar, along with a dozen hunters standing at the edge of the water. Their anxious expressions made it clear they'd been waiting for him.

  As soon as he got close, Bran rushed over and practically exploded: "Chief! You're finally back! One more hour and we were ready to storm their place!"

  Draven's temple throbbed. Rage surged up in a flash.

  He turned and saw Rurik's determined expression too—clearly ready to fight if necessary.

  "So none of you give a damn what I say, huh?!" He kicked Bran hard. "You've got no brain, and now Rurik's following your lead?!"

  He landed two more kicks before sending both of them skulking back to the village.

  At the gates, Viola was already waiting. The moment she saw Draven, the little fox-girl dashed forward and flung herself into his arms, eyes rimmed with red.

  Draven froze for a second, caught by surprise, then gently patted her back, whispering words of comfort.