Early the next morning, Draven stepped out from his house. The morning air carried a hint of moisture and coolness, while sunlight filtered through the dense leaves on both sides of the canyon, casting mottled patterns on the ground.

  The environment always affected people. Different places brought different feelings, which in turn changed one's mood. Viola, who had drunk that bowl of fish soup last night, seemed more energetic.

  Her face carried a brighter flush, as if soaked in the savory flavor of the soup. Draven even thought that at this moment, she looked more charming than ever before.

  The stone house had good sound insulation—at least last night, the village had not been disturbed by Liliana's irritating cries. That little fox girl had been unusually quiet through the night. Draven smiled faintly, feeling somewhat relieved.

  However, the environment of Village No. 2 was far from perfect. What Draven found most unsatisfactory was the lack of sunlight.

  The trees on both sides of the canyon were too dense, and their canopies blocked most of the daylight. For the serpentfolk, sunlight was not absolutely necessary, but Draven knew that the villagers still needed enough sunlight to stay spirited and healthy.

  "I'll have Viola arrange for some trees to be cut down, to clear some open space," he thought, his eyes scanning the lush forest in the distance.

  As for Viola's plan last night to catch fish every day and eat fish every day, Draven could only smile bitterly to himself.

  That little fox always liked naive plans—but did she really think they could eat fish every day? He himself could handle it, given his picky taste buds, but the others might not be able to endure such monotony.

  The variety of food in this world was pitifully limited; eating the same thing every day was bound to cause problems sooner or later.

  The sun gradually rose higher, and the temperature climbed day by day. The heat of summer was beginning to show. Draven took off his shirt, revealing a strong upper body, and wore only a pair of shorts made from snakeskin—cool and easy to move in. He licked his lips, ready to start his day's patrol.

  He called over the Serpent Ancestor stationed at the gate, mounted his Nightmare Horse, and prepared to ride around. The Nightmare Horse was tall, its coat black and glossy, carrying an aura of mystery as it moved.

  They rode along the small path by the village, arriving at the highland construction site of Village No. 3.

  The buildings here were beginning to take shape; large stone walls were rising from the ground. The serpentfolk clearly had rich experience in building fortifications—the plan to enclose an area of three to four li (about 1.5 to 2 kilometers) was impressive.

  At this moment, over three hundred serpentfolk were divided into groups, busy with their respective tasks in the cool morning breeze. Some carried stones, others built walls, while others guarded and directed.

  In the center of the site, the leader-grade Green Serpent wielded the green serpent spear recently recovered, loudly commanding the workers, his voice echoing through the air. His presence was strong; though he smiled, every word carried undeniable authority.

  Meanwhile, the high-level bloodline warrior Gregor lounged under the shade of a tree, cradling a serpent-head curved blade, sipping bloodwine like a noble lord. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on his solemn face, but his gaze showed no slackening.

  Draven held the blood-red spear left by the Red Serpent leader, having just reassigned the bloodline weapons.

  The Green Serpent, as a mid-level leader, needed a weapon that fit his command over the more than three hundred serpentfolk under him. Gregor was almost Draven's deputy—an extremely powerful fighter—and the curved blade was clearly not suited to his fierce combat style.

  Therefore, Draven gave Gregor's original great axe to Bran, a warrior known for his savage tiger-like ferocity.

  Rurik, accustomed to using bow and arrow and skilled in stealth ambushes, had his serpent spear withdrawn; in compensation, he was given a longbow from the blood elves. This left Draven himself with only the blood-red spear and Garruk's spear.

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  When the Green Serpent saw Leader Draven arrive, he immediately came forward with a respectful and flattering expression, like a sycophantic servant. Draven secretly chuckled, thinking the Green Serpent was naturally suited to be a traitor.

  Looking at the Green Serpent's hypocritical smile, Draven almost mistook it for genuine sincerity.

  In fact, Draven had no idea how the Green Serpent effortlessly switched between different roles. After observing for days, he found the Green Serpent's combat skills average but his tongue especially sharp—he enjoyed scheming and deceiving.

  The three hundred-plus subordinates never caused trouble for Gregor and were mostly well-managed. The Green Serpent often criticized the past during the Red Serpent era, portraying himself as a righteous figure.

  Gregor enjoyed the benefits without effort, and Draven was happy to let it be—no one intervened.

  After checking the construction progress, Draven estimated the wall would be finished within three to five days.

  The serpentfolk had cleared most of the magical beasts from their territory; ordinary beasts still existed but in small numbers.

  These serpentfolk had to feed themselves and also help the Black Flag Territory stockpile food. Currently, the three villages relied on the hunting team led by Bran for supplies and were running at a deficit overall.

  Draven and Gregor exchanged smiles. With him stationed here, Draven had little to worry about.

  Living puppets—this skill was extremely interesting.

  Draven could at any time unilaterally perceive the thoughts and experiences of the Second Consciousness. Mastering this ability gave him a much deeper understanding of this secret world. Today, he planned to go check on Bran's situation.

  After the initial tension and unease, Bran suddenly realized that staying in Village No. 1 was actually not a bad choice. After all, with his personality, he couldn't stay still.

  Running and hunting in the forest made him happier and more at ease. Draven even began to suspect that Bran wasn't much like a typical werewolf; instead, he seemed to have some husky blood mixed in!

  Free-spirited and wild, totally unrestrained. Especially with the strong support of the Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent, Bran had completely let himself go.

  When Draven arrived at Village No. 1, the scene before him made him frown slightly. At the village entrance, only Acorn Oak and a few treants were quietly basking in the sun; the whole village was unusually quiet, almost silent.

  After asking around, Draven learned that Bran had taken the hunting team into the forest early that morning. After thinking it over, Draven decided not to disturb them for now.

  As long as the hunting was done well, he had time to slowly teach them other things. But those treants couldn't just sit idle; there was little danger in the village, so nothing really needed guarding.

  So he instructed Acorn Oak to lead the treants to gather more stone materials. After all, the stone walls were still too weak. The last Black Snake attack had exposed their vulnerability—if they met a stronger enemy again, the walls definitely wouldn't hold.

  Draven had been constantly thinking about his plan to seal the mouth of the valley; he wanted to build a solid fortress. Just like the walls of Village No. 1—high and sturdy, with magical arrays carved into the walls, providing powerful protection.

  What reassured him even more was that these arrays were personally provided by the Serpent Ancestor. This meant that the Black Flag Territory had already mastered the technology to build a true fortress.

  After finishing these instructions, Draven prepared to leave, planning to visit the monkey tribe's territory as well. One reason was to strengthen ties; another was to gather intelligence about other tribes in the Godwar Hills.

  After all, the serpentfolk had once been powerful but had now collapsed spectacularly. This was a major event for the other tribes on the hills. Draven had to grasp these developments, lest some faction act unwisely and cause trouble for the Black Flag Territory.

  Mounting his Nightmare Horse, Draven reached the canyon above the monkey tribe's cave and was immediately captivated by the scene before him.

  A dozen or so pack animals were lined up in a long procession, almost blocking the entire canyon. Over a hundred humans had appeared on the monkey tribe's land, creating a lively scene.

  Draven was momentarily stunned, then smiled. Could this be the human caravan that the monkey tribe leader Goldmanes had mentioned? He quickly guided the Nightmare Horse to slowly descend from mid-air.

  The canyon was filled with bustling noise; the human caravan busily sold their goods while the monkey tribe members excitedly looked around, their eyes full of curiosity and excitement.

  Draven's arrival heightened the atmosphere, and Goldmanes came forward with a hearty smile.

  Though usually he looked old, after a few sips of bloodwine, Goldmanes seemed much more spirited, his figure sturdier.

  He loudly introduced Draven to the caravan's leader, saying he was the greatest tribal chief in the Godwar Hills. Draven felt a slight emotion in his heart and accepted Goldmanes's praise silently. It seemed the monkey tribe's intelligence was not lagging behind.

  The caravan leader was a burly man with blond hair and blue eyes, his face fleshy and when he smiled, his eyes nearly squinted shut. He introduced himself as Klaus, a merchant from the human world's holy Kingdom of Thalos.

  Draven stepped forward to exchange greetings. Afterward, Klaus enthusiastically began introducing his goods. The entire caravan numbered fewer than two hundred, and including Klaus, nearly everyone carried weapons.

  Passing through non-human territories from the human kingdom to do business was already an adventure.

  Draven observed carefully and found that at least four or five people in the caravan were quite powerful—almost on par with non-human tribal leaders. This was barely enough to ensure their survival in these wilderness lands.