After Viola's careful comfort throughout the night, Draven finally pulled himself together and temporarily pushed the nearly demigod-level Archdruid out of his mind.

  Although he only gained a very faint portion of the power from the Halo of Faith, upon waking up, he could already distinctly feel that the village's magical energy was more concentrated than before.

  A strange energy permeated the air, and even breathing seemed to draw in a surge of power. Draven took a deep breath, feeling the energy surge within him, and his mood lifted greatly.

  He even had a premonition that he would soon break through to the mid-tier level of a leader.

  Back when the troll chieftain Garruk had said that Lydia hoped he could advance to the mid-tier within two years—who was he looking down on! Now it seemed that Draven wasn't so easily underestimated either.

  Of course, this increase in power was not something a single ritual could bring. The real credit went to Gareth, the old fellow who had sealed that blood wine for over ten years.

  After the little octopuses improved and refined it, that blood wine became the key factor in Draven's rapid power growth.

  Moreover, the ritual could be held once a month, meaning Draven could continuously develop various functions of the Halo of Faith, leaving a huge potential for future improvement.

  He walked to the altar and looked at the statue of Selene, becoming even more convinced that Liliana's words were true.

  After this ritual, the statue had clearly grown slightly larger. Draven reached out to touch its surface, trying to sense the secrets and changes within, but he saw nothing.

  "Pervert, where are you touching?" A sharp voice suddenly sounded.

  "I'm going to tell Sister Viola!" The little girl Liliana said as she quickly shrank into Viola's arms.

  Draven was startled and quickly withdrew his hand, helplessly making a gripping motion to himself. Why had this little girl woken up so early today and been so alert? He felt like he'd been cursed for eight generations.

  He cursed silently in his heart and hurried into the big house. After last night's ritual, he had already issued a new order: from today on, everyone in Black Flag Territory must eat three meals a day!

  Although eating meat broth so early was a bit cloying, it had to be maintained. It was the aroma of the meat broth that had attracted Liliana here in the first place.

  Draven poured half of his meat broth into Liliana's bowl and encouraged her to eat more so she could help build the village's houses faster.

  The little girl gave him a big smile, her eyes full of meaning: "You're so nice."

  Draven couldn't help but wonder—this enthusiastic little one, with a demigod-level teacher, how on earth was she taught? How could she be so interested in food?

  He found himself somewhat nostalgic for the kind of hot porridge he used to drink, even if it was just plain rice porridge. He even started to wonder if rice crops existed in this world at all.

  Viola noticed Draven's lack of appetite, tasted the meat broth herself, and frowned even more. She thought the taste was actually quite good, but a man's appetite was hard to predict.

  She urged Liliana to eat quickly and busied herself supervising the construction progress. Although the village slaves couldn't feel the increase in magic power, breakfast had genuinely been eaten.

  Curiously, some slaves began to murmur quietly, wondering why the leader, who usually didn't care much about daily life, suddenly insisted on three meals a day.

  Titus, the kobold, heard these words and stared fiercely at the tribe members gossiping behind their leader's back, feeling ashamed for their leader. He couldn't tolerate such betrayal and disrespect.

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  However, no matter what, a full stomach meant the slaves worked with more vigor. The walls rose foot by foot, and Draven credited all the merit to himself.

  He felt that if he hadn't kept a close eye on things, Liliana wouldn't have worked so hard moving stones.

  Without stones, how could the walls get higher? In other words, these walls were practically built by Draven's own hands.

  He felt satisfied with his effort and occasionally went to find Viola to take advantage a little, rewarding himself.

  Thick, curved serpent bones were piled in one corner of the village. Draven hadn't yet decided how to make use of them.

  They were the skeletons of a monstrous giant python, extremely hard, but their curved shapes made it difficult for him to decide what to craft from them. Weapons?

  Or perhaps some kind of defensive structure? Neither seemed quite right. After careful consideration, Draven decided to leave them for now—the most important task at the moment was to speed up the village's construction and secure everyone's homes.

  After a day's hard work, the frameworks for two longhouses for the little ones in the village were basically finished. They only needed to add the rafters, lay the beams, and cover them with a layer of straw to complete. But things didn't go so smoothly.

  That little girl Liliana kept throwing tantrums, insisting she had contributed the most and her house should be built first.

  Draven wanted to insist on finishing the two longhouses first, since having more people was always beneficial, but the girl refused to listen, causing a commotion that distracted everyone. In the end, neither the two longhouses nor her small house were completed, and all three construction sites were stalled.

  At dinner time, Draven's face was dark, while Liliana pouted with displeasure. Viola couldn't help but laugh; she found that ever since Liliana arrived, life here had become more interesting.

  Alaric stealthily moved closer to Ayla, clearly feeling his presence diminishing. Ayla shifted sideways slightly, seeming a bit uncomfortable.

  "Alaric..." he sighed softly, finished the bowl of blood wine, and as usual began to urge the villagers to return to their homes to rest.

  In the past, his orders were obeyed without question, but now, Liliana seemed unwilling to leave Viola's side.

  It took great effort for Draven to pull Liliana away from Viola's arms, just as he was about to send her out, his eyes suddenly sharpened.

  Under the crimson moonlight, a figure rushed swiftly toward the village, moving with speed and decisiveness. Draven's heart immediately tightened; without hesitation, he set Liliana down, transformed into his werewolf form, and charged toward the newcomer, shouting, "Enemy attack!"

  He shot two arrows in quick succession, attempting to intercept the intruder. The light arrows streaked across the night sky toward the enemy but failed to hit their mark and were quickly dispersed.

  As the figure approached, Draven finally recognized the attacker: it was the most dangerous among the serpent tribe—the Green Serpent.

  "How dare he!" Draven's anger flared. The Green Serpent was a mid-tier leader whom Draven had severely wounded in battle before. He hadn't expected the serpent to dare barge into the village alone with the intention to confront them head-on.

  The Green Serpent scanned the massive serpent bones piled inside the stone walls—they were the remains of a guardian beast. Seeing the bones, a fiery hatred lit up in his eyes. This guy obviously despised everything about this place.

  Draven switched to the long axe in his hand and stood firmly blocking the village entrance. He motioned to Bran and the others to fall back, telling them this fight was not theirs to join.

  The Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent quickly followed up, while Liliana was left behind in the village to guard Viola and the little ones.

  Draven's mind was on alert: now that the Green Serpent had come, what about the other three leaders? He dared not be careless. The Green Serpent had clearly tasted defeat at his hands before—how could he dare to charge in alone? Was it only because he had upgraded to mid-tier?

  From their recent clash, Draven could see that the Green Serpent's power had indeed increased; he was no longer a low-tier leader but had gained mid-tier abilities.

  Yet even so, the Green Serpent should not be so arrogant. Without Ragnar, a single Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent was enough to give the Green Serpent a hard time—unless he had backup.

  Draven was not intimidated by the Green Serpent's momentum. He began carefully scanning the surroundings, searching for possible hidden enemies. The Green Serpent, clearly sensing contempt, burned with anger in his eyes; he wanted to make this arrogant black wolf leader pay.

  A cold gleam streaked through the night sky. Draven swiftly dodged to the side while delivering a kick. Unfortunately, the kick missed its target. Leaning forward, he steadied his footing and swung the long axe in a powerful strike.

  The weapons clashed with a dull thud. Draven felt a numbness in his right hand.

  A mid-tier leader truly was different.

  He retreated steadily one step, not rushing to counterattack. Fixing his gaze on the spear-wielding Green Serpent, he asked coldly, "Is it just you?"

  The Green Serpent sneered and suddenly swung his spear with a mocking tone: "What do you think?"

  Those words weighed heavily on Draven's heart—it wasn't just him who had come. In that case, Draven decided to end the fight quickly and could not afford delay.

  He deliberately showed weakness, feigning inability to resist, attempting to lure the Green Serpent toward the Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent's hiding place. For now, drawing the enemy deeper in was the best option.