Sylvia was just about to break free with all her might when the werewolf's other hand shot out abruptly, grabbing the nape of her neck and forcefully pressing her onto the animal hides on the bed.

  Both subhumans and elves possess the ability to see objects in the dark—with even the faintest glimmer of light, their eyes can distinguish details.

  At this moment, Sylvia hated this ability that should have been an advantage, for her face was so red it seemed to be burning, with shame and panic intertwining into a tumult.

  She struggled to flee the stone hut and leaned against the cold stone wall, her hands tightly pressed against the rough surface. The flush on her face was so vivid that one could almost imagine blood surging beneath her skin.

  Images of the werewolf's recent actions kept flashing through her mind—the nearly uncontrolled touches made her secretly tremble with lingering fear.

  "Just a little, just a hair's breadth..." she whispered in her heart, still jolted by the lingering shock.

  A pungent odor made her feel nauseous. Sylvia covered her mouth and retched, frantically wiping the traces from the corner of her mouth. Her face instantly paled, and she felt as if all strength had been drained from her body.

  Then she froze, body stiff as a statue, realizing a terrible truth. Tears fell soundlessly, wetting her cheeks.

  Her world seemed to collapse in an instant, all self-esteem and strength dissipating at that moment.

  Inside the stone hut, Draven—who should have been in a daze—secretly curled the corner of his mouth into a lewd smile.

  At first, he was indeed confused and disoriented. But when Sylvia reached out and grabbed his penis, Draven felt overwhelming embarrassment, almost wanting to crawl into a hole in the ground.

  However, instead of feeling embarrassed himself, he chose to make Sylvia feel awkward instead. His tactic worked—Sylvia was frightened off, and Draven felt secretly pleased.

  The haze in his mind returned, and he slowly drifted back to sleep. This time, though, there was a sly, indescribable grin lingering on his face.

  He slept all the way until late at night. With his mouth dry and throat parched, Draven finally opened his eyes.

  The oil lamp in the stone hut cast a dim yet warm light, outlining the contours of the small space. As he tried to sit up, he noticed Viola resting by the bedside, keeping watch over him.

  The little fox girl looked exhausted, but her eyes were filled with concern and quiet determination. Draven felt a warm surge in his chest. He reached out and gently stroked her soft hair, slowly waking the girl who had been guarding him all this time.

  "You're awake?" Viola's voice was soft, laced with pleasant surprise.

  She helped the wolfman leader sit halfway up. Hearing his hoarse voice whisper that he was thirsty, Viola hurried off to fetch some warm water.

  Draven drank it in one go, feeling the dryness in his throat ease as strength slowly returned to his body.

  "Come sleep up here," he said, motioning for Viola to lie on the bed. The little fox girl obediently scooted over, instinctively trying to rest her head against his chest.

  But seeing that he hadn't fully recovered, she changed her mind and gently pulled him into her own embrace instead. Feeling the soft touch from above, Draven couldn't help but chuckle, and his hand began to wander unconsciously.

  A blush spread across Viola's cheeks. She murmured something with mock annoyance but made no attempt to stop him. The two of them stayed like that, holding each other and chatting softly.

  Viola told him that the five hundred slaves, along with the two young rabbitfolk, had all been safely resettled in the village. There were plenty of houses in Village No. 2, so space was never an issue.

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  Even if another five hundred arrived, they could be accommodated without trouble.

  Draven simply gave a brief reply—right now, all he wanted was to rest. He didn't want to deal with anything else.

  Hearing from Viola that no major incidents had occurred in the territory during his absence finally put his mind at ease. Having slept from morning till deep into the night, both his body and spirit were drained.

  Then, he suddenly remembered the gift he had prepared for Viola. With a flip of his palm, a delicate, fire-red wand core appeared in his hand.

  "Look, this is for you. Do you like it?"

  Viola's eyes lit up with surprise as Draven handed her the wand core. The more she looked at it, the more she liked it.

  Not just because of the gift itself—but because she understood the intention behind it. It was a symbol of the wolfman leader's care and affection for her.

  The little fox girl happily hugged Draven's head, then gently lowered her own and planted a kiss on his forehead. Her movements were tender and natural, filled with unrestrained joy.

  A smile tugged at the corner of Draven's mouth. Seizing the moment, he leaned close to Viola's ear and whispered something.

  Immediately, a faint blush colored Viola's cheeks. She hurriedly released her hold on him and, like a slippery eel, nimbly slipped back under the thick animal pelts.

  Draven took a sharp breath, his expression one of pure enjoyment, as if in that moment all his fatigue had vanished.

  Outside, the morning rain began to drizzle again, the heavy clouds pressing down oppressively. But inside the hut, the atmosphere was completely different. Draven's mood was unusually calm, even a bit relaxed.

  He sat by the hearth, the warm firelight casting a glow across his face. In the iron pot, mushroom stew bubbled softly, its aroma rising slowly with the steam and filling the air. Draven scooped up a spoonful, blew on it gently, tasted the seasoning, and nodded with satisfaction.

  On the big bed behind him, the little fox girl still slept soundly. She must have eaten well during the night, as even the tempting smell of the stew didn't wake her.

  Draven hummed an unknown tune softly to himself for the first time feeling that the sound of rain was actually quite pleasant— it carried a gentle rhythm that surprisingly matched his mood. However, this rare peace was soon interrupted.

  At the door, Liliana came running in, drawn by the smell of the stew. The young druid girl's face was full of excitement and anticipation.

  She eagerly ladled a big bowl of the stew and began slurping it while chattering to Draven:"Is Selene City fun? You have to take me with you next time!"

  Draven smiled and nodded, promising her he would.

  Sylvia stood nearby, head lowered. Only when Draven handed her a bowl of stew did she hurriedly take it.

  The elf girl in her cat-like form had a faint flush on her cheeks and moved awkwardly, clearly unwilling to let others see how flustered she was.

  Draven pretended nothing was amiss on the outside but couldn't help chuckling inside. The misunderstanding from yesterday meant Sylvia wouldn't so easily hold her head high in front of him now.

  As soon as Liliana entered, the little fox girl was completely awake. She quickly crawled out from under the pelts and got dressed briskly.

  Once ready, she sat down by the hearth. Liliana couldn't help but reach out and pinch her cheek, saying,"Viola, what have you been sneaking to eat every day? Your skin looks so perfect— rosy, smooth, and flawless!"

  Liliana's small hand touched Viola's cheek, feeling the smooth, delicate skin, and couldn't help but envy it.

  Even usually quiet Sylvia lifted her head to look at Viola with curious eyes full of wonder.

  Elven skin was naturally good, but Viola's was exceptional— far surpassing the standard of her own kind.

  Viola felt a little shy and gently brushed away Liliana's hand, a faint blush coloring her face. She stole a glance at Draven, her eyes carrying a mixture of bashfulness and trust.

  Before she could figure out how to respond to the awkward moment, Bran's loud voice suddenly broke the silence in the room.

  "The rain's really coming down hard!" Bran said as he entered the stone hut. He quickly stood at the door, shaking off the rainwater and roughly kicking off his muddy boots.

  He took a steaming bowl of stew from Viola and gulped down a mouthful before beginning to report to Draven on the slave resettlement situation.

  Viola had already briefed him the night before, and Draven just waved him off, signaling Bran to focus on eating and stop talking.

  Not long after, Alaric and Ayla arrived together in raincoats. After breakfast, everyone gathered around the hearth as Draven gave a simple rundown of the slaves' assignments.

  Except for a few elderly and weak individuals, most of the five hundred slaves—black werewolves and dog-headed males—were handed over to Bran's management. Nearly two hundred would join his hunting party.

  Draven also planned to send a small team from Green Serpent's Village No. 3 to support Bran, so that combining old and new forces, they could become fully qualified hunters after the rainy season.

  The remaining female slaves and elderly or weak ones were placed under Viola's care, settled initially at the Black Flag Tavern. The elderly and weak would handle light duties within their capability.

  Female slaves served as Draven's incentive tools—those who performed well could be rewarded to his subordinates anytime, motivating them to work harder.

  At this point, Bran admitted sheepishly that he had already taken two black wolf tribe female slaves last night to send back to Village No. 1.

  Draven rolled his eyes—not in anger at Bran, but thinking the young man had just gotten a taste and was now insatiable.

  Those female slaves looked thin and weak, with sallow faces and tangled hair, making one wonder how Bran could even manage to…

  Draven didn't care much, just waved his hand and said, If you've got the skill, carry them all off.