Draven traded two pairs of headless giant serpent bones with the dwarf Edric in exchange for three pieces of equipment. The deal was worth it, and Draven was very satisfied. After all, both snakes were hunted by his own hand, and with the help of that Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent, he had gained three bloodline weapons—what was there to complain about?

  As he was about to leave the smithy, Draven also commissioned Edric to make a batch of iron pots and farming tools, which were urgently needed at the Black Flag Tavern. They agreed he would pick up the goods next time he came, and Edric promised to hurry with the work.

  After leaving the smithy, the sky over the city suddenly darkened. Soon, heavy raindrops began to fall, growing harder and showing no sign of stopping. Draven frowned; he had planned to pick up the slaves quickly and head back, but now he could only wait.

  Draven returned to the stone house. The cramped space was already occupied by five people: three adult demi-humans and two little ones. There were no beds or tables, so everyone sat directly on the floor, knees nearly touching, with barely any room to stretch their legs.

  No sooner had they sat down than Rurik began reporting on the business operations over the past half month.

  "The location of the Black Flag Tavern is pretty good—close to the south gate with lots of traffic. Plus, our prices are cheap, so business is alright," he said.

  Specifically, they had sold goods worth over twenty thousand copper coins.

  A cup of blood wine was priced at twenty copper coins, and just from that they sold nearly seven hundred cups, averaging sixty to seventy cups daily. It didn't sound like much, but in a place like Selene City, it was quite a considerable income.

  Based on the city's currency exchange rates—one hundred copper coins for one silver coin, ten silver coins for one gold coin—that twenty thousand copper coins was roughly worth twenty gold coins, enough to buy a low-tier magical beast. But for the Black Flag Tavern, it was a significant step forward.

  Draven nodded. He didn't plan to take this money away; instead, he took a few silver and copper coins from Rurik and let them keep the rest.

  "You can't run a business without some cash flow," he said."Don't just think about saving money. When you see the right goods, buy some."

  He then pulled from his storage ring some blood wine, monkey liquor, and fruit wine and cassava wine for mixing, handing them all to Rurik. He didn't set a fixed wage or mention any profit sharing.

  "This money, spend it however you see fit. Except for the share that goes to the territory, use the rest as you like," Draven said.

  In truth, Draven knew the demi-human society was still very primitive. Their thinking wasn't as complicated as humans'; they didn't have many concepts of rights or distribution. They valued the leader's will and mutual trust more.

  Take Bran, for example. Though nominally the manager of one village, he basically turned over most of the resources to Village No. 2, keeping just enough for basic sustenance.

  Draven didn't intend to change this model for now. He felt insisting on strict distribution at this stage would only cause hard feelings. That could come later, once they developed further.

  After that, he chatted with Rurik about some details of running the tavern and offered some improvement suggestions—like adding snacks or offering small tasting cups to attract customers. Rurik nodded repeatedly, showing serious respect in his eyes.

  After business talk, Rurik cautiously asked,"Leader, can I bring my two younger brothers back to the village? They don't have anyone here to rely on."

  Draven glanced at the two small demi-human boys huddled in a corner. They were dirty but alert, like little animals ready to run at any moment.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  "Don't worry, I'll treat them as members of the Black Flag Tavern," Draven replied decisively. He had planned to expand the population, and two teenagers fit perfectly.

  Just then, the rain outside finally began to ease. The stone house was hot and cramped; Draven stood, stretched his waist, and felt that if they didn't leave soon, mold would start growing.

  "Let's go. Once we get the slaves, we'll head back."

  He took Rurik and Bran with him, leaving Angelica inside to keep company with her two younger brothers. This parting might last a long time.

  The rain-soaked streets were wet and muddy, filled with the smell of rust and ash. They passed through several alleys and arrived at the lord's manor.

  Draven first presented his identity token and exchanged it for five slave scrolls. The official handling registration was a succubus woman, though not the Lydia he knew.

  He wondered if Lydia, the chief steward, had found a new man yet.

  When the succubus steward ordered five hundred slaves to be brought up, Draven suddenly felt a wave of relief and happiness.

  Five hundred in total, arranged in five rows. When Draven saw the first two rows, his eyes lit up. He couldn't help but take a few steps forward to carefully examine the slaves.

  Two full hundreds of Black Wolves—all his own kind!

  Although most appeared to be adults, some even showed obvious wrinkles and old scars, surprisingly, quite a few were female. The ratio was nearly half and half, a rare sight among slaves. Draven narrowed his eyes and a satisfied smile curved on his lips.

  "Looks like Lady Selene hasn't forgotten me," he thought. Even without bloodline warriors, this group alone was enough for him to establish a foothold in the clan. Even if this generation wasn't strong in combat, the next would surely have some rising stars.

  His gaze swept over the faces of these Black Wolf slaves; many were expressionless, eyes vacant. But the moment they saw Draven, their expressions softened slightly.

  Some blinked, some lips trembled, as if finally seeing hope break through their silence. Draven didn't rush to arrange them. Instead, he turned his attention to the third row of slaves.

  This hundred-strong group were all female serpentfolk. Graceful in figure, cold-eyed, chained together and standing quietly. Each kept her head bowed, yet none looked weak. Draven observed for a moment, raising an eyebrow.

  "These women know the situation in my territory," he thought with mixed feelings.

  The Black Flag Tavern had currently absorbed over three hundred serpentfolk, mostly male. Suddenly sending him a hundred female serpentfolk seemed like a gesture of goodwill, but more likely a warning.

  Selene was reminding him through this: she knew what he was up to.

  "But that's fine," he smiled and stopped overthinking. The serpent men in Black Flag Territory couldn't all be working shirtless without partners, right?

  When he reached the fourth and fifth rows, Draven's smile began to fade. Those two rows were neat and orderly, but all were dog-headed men.

  These dog-headed men were short, barely over a meter tall. Their skin was shriveled, and they were as skinny as standing monkeys.

  Many bore wounds, their eyes dull, clearly the result of long-term oppression. Draven wrinkled his nose and his mood immediately soured.

  Two hundred dog-headed men? This wasn't a gift; it was trash disposal.

  He knew that a race like the Black Wolves was much more valuable than dog-headed men.

  He looked toward the distant city walls, recalling his past encounters with Selene. From initial awe to the heartbeat after meeting, then to clear-headed calculation—everything had become real.

  He was no longer a brutish orc acting on instinct and desire. He understood that to live better in this world, one couldn't rely on fists alone but had to use brains as well.

  The earlier setback in the back garden was a warning bell. He knew a woman like Selene wouldn't change her view of him just because he glanced at her or gave her a few gifts.

  She wanted value, a future, someone who could create more profit and power for her.

  "The stronger the woman, the more pragmatic she is," Draven muttered softly.

  He instinctively touched the storage ring at his waist, then turned and ordered Bran,"Take this batch of slaves out of the city and settle them in the northern camp. Keep the serpentfolk and Black Wolves separate. As for the dog-headed men, just set up some tents for them."

  Bran nodded in acknowledgment and led the group away. Draven returned to the stone house with Rurik.

  In the deepest corner of the house, Angelica was holding her two younger brothers tightly, unwilling to let go.

  Tibbit and Riven looked uneasy, their little faces buried in their sister's arms, their fingers clutching her wrinkled clothes. Angelica's cheeks still bore tear stains, her eyes red, but she held back her tears silently.

  Demi-humans weren't as sentimental as humans. They had seen too much parting and loss and had long learned to suppress their emotions. But no matter how strong, when facing real family, even the toughest would show their vulnerable side.

  Draven said nothing but patted Rurik's shoulder."Don't just think about making copper coins. We need to gather information and recruit more hands. Don't let Black Flag Tavern be blindsided by every little change."

  "You can leave the tavern to Angelica. She's more careful than you and better at paying attention. If she gets overwhelmed, find a few more women to help. Don't let her carry everything alone."