By the hearth in the main hall, Draven sat with a few core members gathered around. The firelight flickered across their tense faces.

  This meal would be their last in this house. Afterward, they would lead the entire village in relocation.

  Draven had personally inspected the old serpentfolk settlement. It remained largely intact. The only issue was the increased number of snakes in the area.

  He had already made arrangements. Green Serpent and his kin would drive the snakes into a different valley to ensure they wouldn't interfere with life in the new village.

  Draven had no intention of abandoning the current village completely. He had invested a lot of effort into building and maintaining it. So, he left Bran in charge, along with the two original hunting parties.

  The village would also be guarded by the powerful Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent stationed at key locations, while Acorn Oak and his treant forces would provide support.

  Even if Bran wasn't yet strong enough, these arrangements would at least ensure the village's safety.

  The remaining three hundred-plus serpentfolk would migrate north with Draven. The northern settlement was large enough to house three or four thousand people, so there was no concern about accommodating everyone.

  Bran sat there, his eyes filled with unease. Draven noticed and offered a small smile without saying a word.

  "A young man needs trials," he thought to himself.

  Compared to Bran, the kobold Titus was even more anxious. He hadn't expected the chieftain to not only fulfill his promise and free them from their slave contracts, but also to bring him into the inner circle.

  It was no small matter—aside from Alaric and Ayla, all other core members were warriors with powerful bloodlines. Titus was just an ordinary kobold, with status far beneath theirs.

  Draven's appreciation for Titus was more than recognition of his ability; it was strategic. After absorbing over three hundred serpentfolk into the Black Flag Territory, the power structure had been disrupted. Draven could no longer rely solely on strength and bloodlines. He needed to show his discernment in choosing people.

  "From now on, power in the Black Flag Territory won't be distributed purely by strength," Draven understood. Someone like Green Serpent wasn't even close to qualifying for the core group—yet.

  The atmosphere should have been light-hearted, but the dinner carried a heavy mood. Even the usually lively Liliana barely touched her food.

  Strangely, despite being freed from her slave contract, she had no desire to leave the village. She still spent her days playing wildly with the children, singing her annoyingly catchy songs, as if this village were her real home.

  After the meal, Draven urged the villagers into action. As newly freed people with no personal property, they packed quickly and simply, transporting supplies to the riverbank.

  There, Green Serpent and a group of serpentfolk waited in silence. Following Draven's instructions, they had prepared makeshift rafts.

  Nearly every child held a rabbit they had caught, and under Alaric and Ayla's guidance, they reluctantly said their goodbyes to the village.

  Draven never understood why beastkin showed such deep emotion when it came to relocation. They were heading somewhere bigger, safer—so why the sorrow?

  Viola held tightly to the Serenity Bloom that had always sat beside her bed, pouting so hard it looked like she might try to plant the whole pot on her back. Draven had taken her to see the new settlement, but she still refused to leave the house.

  "Come on," Draven coaxed her gently.

  "It's not like we're not coming back. Once we ride the Nightmare Horse, we'll be there in no time." He picked up the little fox girl, feeling her even more upset than when they first met. It made his heart ache.

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  As they departed the village, far away in Selene City, a feline girl stepped into the territory. Her fur was snow-white, and her eyes sparkled with curiosity and youthful energy.

  Unlike the aloof elven kind, she carried a hint of mischief and fearlessness, glancing around the unfamiliar city.

  The saintess Sylvia, through her connection with the sacred sword, could sense its presence nearby—but its exact location remained elusive.

  Fortunately, with the spirit of the sword residing within her, she could sense its presence within a certain range.

  In recent days, she had thoroughly explored the surrounding areas. Her visit to Selene City this time was a gamble—hoping to find new clues.

  During her search for the sacred sword, she had heard many rumors about Selene. Ayla, in particular, was fascinated by the legendary tale of one who reversed her succubus nature.

  But now, Sylvia faced a dilemma: without revealing her identity, she had no legitimate reason to meet Selene. After all, a city lord wasn't someone just anyone could approach.

  Meanwhile, inside the lord's manor, Chief Steward Lydia wore a deep frown, clearly troubled and anxious.

  Since the Battle of the Divine War Hills ended, Selene had not appeared in public. It seemed she had secluded herself for cultivation—no one had seen her active anywhere.

  But in truth, she had already recovered from her injuries long ago; she simply hadn't made any public appearances. Lydia knew this, because the maids frequently snuck into the city in search of better-tasting bloodwine.

  To be fair, the selection of bloodwine in the lord's manor was already vast, but Selene still believed there might be something better outside.

  Lydia didn't buy it at all, and the mere question irritated her. After all, she had personally raised Selene from childhood and knew her personality and habits better than anyone.

  She also understood that the current Selene was no longer the same as the girl in her memory. Her temperament had become firmer, more complicated.

  With no other choice, Lydia had people post a notice outside the lord's manor, offering a reward for the finest wines. She deliberately replaced "bloodwine" with "fine wine," unwilling to admit there could be anything better than what the manor offered.

  After the notice went up, she waited anxiously for news, grumbling in her heart: Could anyone really bring wine better than Selene's?

  Meanwhile, Draven had already begun taking action. He stood atop the old walls of the serpentfolk village and carved the words "Black Flag Territory" into the stone himself.

  The letters followed the hollowed-out engraving technique Viola had taught him, filled in afterward with bright red dye, vivid and eye-catching.

  Most traces of the serpentfolk had already been cleared from the village. Snake carvings and motifs were carefully removed.

  The iconic serpentine patterns and ornaments had vanished, leaving behind only bare stone walls and structures.

  A red banner with a wolf's head and horns flapped atop the city walls, fluttering in the wind—marking the village as officially under the Black Flag Territory's control.

  Draven smiled and gave the village a name: Black Flag Territory No. 2. He joked that the previous village was No. 1, making the naming clear and simple.

  The overall layout of the village remained the same, forming an irregular oval. The city wall spanned about three or four kilometers, as if a portion had been cut off from the oval's top.

  Behind the walls ran a wide stone-paved road—flat, solid, and smooth. Though flanked by yellow earth, the path was firm underfoot and never muddy.

  On either side of the road stood arrow stacks, weapon racks, and braziers, dividing the area into two training zones clearly meant for soldier drills.

  The stone road led to the village's central plaza, where a ritual platform stood. Atop it was a statue of Selene, twice as large as the one in Village No. 1.

  The statue clearly originated from the lord's manor, implying their tacit approval of the Black Flag Territory's takeover. After all, such an important object wouldn't be discarded lightly.

  Beyond the statue and plaza lay the chief's hall—a typical circular building of beastkin design, now stripped of any serpentine decoration, giving it a more modest and elegant appearance.

  Like the one in Village No. 1, the original hall had served as a space for meetings, guests, and living quarters.

  But this time, Draven was unwilling to compromise. He reorganized the interior: keeping the meeting and guest areas, but separating the living quarters completely.

  At the entrance stood a long table surrounded by chairs—simple and functional, without excess ornamentation. The rear wall of the hall opened directly into the living area.

  On both sides of the hall were two rows of storerooms, originally used for weapons and food. Draven left them untouched, neatly organizing the supplies he brought.

  Beyond the hall lay the living quarters. Previously, the serpentfolk chief, the three elders, and Red Snake and White Snake had lived here.

  Behind the hall were two smaller stone houses—former residences of Black Snake and Green Serpent. Draven moved into the one on the left, while Liliana had claimed the other.

  No one could stop her—especially not when she turned into a massive brown bear. Her spot was unchallengeable.

  Behind the stone houses stretched an empty yard, and further back were the homes of the other serpentfolk members. These dwellings were unpretentious—varied in size and scattered in layout.

  All the houses were circular structures made from stacked stones, with cone-shaped roofs and skylights for illumination.

  The children were placed in a few of the larger stone houses near the front—five kids crammed into each room.

  The remaining villagers, including the newly arrived, were led by Rurik and allowed to choose their own homes.

  As long as they agreed to live together, no further approval from Draven was needed. The villagers were free once more—free to form their own families and live their own lives.