Everyone who came here initially shared a common dream: to revive their tribe. Each person harbored strong ambition, hoping that one day they could provide a better life for their people.

  However, reality soon shattered their illusions. The slums of this city, especially the areas where various subhuman races gathered, were far harsher than they had imagined.

  Most subhumans were trapped in a dilemma with no way forward or back. The pressure of daily life, scarcity of resources, and social discrimination intertwined, making it difficult for them to break free from their situation.

  What was worse, many eventually gave up resisting, choosing to drift through life, barely surviving on meager relief and occasional charity. They were not lazy—only hopeless to see any chance of changing their fate.

  Among these subhumans, only a very few lucky ones could stand out. They became bloodline warriors, gradually rising to become leaders, earning the qualification to rebuild their villages.

  These leader-level individuals would try to help their people stand up again, but this path was also full of thorns.

  Other tribe members who still had fighting strength, after their ideals were crushed, often had no choice but to pledge allegiance to the lord's manor or stronger tribes. After all, only by relying on powerful forces could they keep a sliver of hope alive.

  Those subhumans who had even lost their fighting ability were even more helpless. With no support, they could only sell themselves, becoming slaves, or be forced into even more miserable lives. There was almost no other choice besides this.

  What Draven valued were precisely these desperate people with nowhere to turn. He could not interfere with the slave trade, but Black Flag Territory could open a door for these hopeless subhumans.

  As long as they were willing to join Black Flag Territory, Draven could give them a chance to rise again—a chance to change their fate with their own hands.

  However, this was by no means something to be achieved overnight. Subhumans' trust was difficult to gain, and Black Flag Territory's vetting and selection were strict. Draven needed those who could truly contribute to the territory's construction; he was not here to do charity.

  All these tasks could only be temporarily entrusted to Rurik. Draven and Rurik carved the words "Black Flag Tavern" on the outer wall of their little stone house and embedded the badge representing the lord's manor's license into the door frame. Then, together they arranged tables, wine jars, and horn cups.

  Thus, Black Flag Territory officially opened its first foothold in Selene City. Though small, it was deeply meaningful.

  Initially, the cassava wine and ordinary fruit wine sold were all traded within the city. Black Flag Territory also brewed wine, but the progress could not keep up with demand. Brewing takes time, and Black Flag Territory needed more time to solidify its foundation.

  After arranging everything, Draven finally turned his attention back to the cat-girl. He took out a large beast hide from his backpack and wrapped her up like a big green onion.

  Then, he laid her across the back of the Nightmare Horse, planning to deal with her after leaving the city.

  Draven led the Nightmare Horse, glanced back at the somewhat lonely Rurik at the door, and patted his shoulder. "Work hard. If there are problems, go to the lord's manor. I'll be back in half a month."

  Rurik nodded. The confidence he had gained last night from the rabbit girl seemed to have faded somewhat. The city obviously did not allow flying magical beasts to fly around recklessly. At least Draven did not dare take that risk yet. Otherwise, he could have sent the cat-girl out of the city last night.

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  The guards at the city gate clearly did not dare to block an important figure leading the Nightmare Horse, so Draven passed inspection smoothly.

  Once outside the city, he leapt onto Nightmare Horse's back, and the beast spread its wings and soared into the sky.

  After flying for a while, Nightmare Horse landed in a small grove not far away. Draven tore open the beast hide, and the cat-girl fell to the ground with a thud.

  He wanted to see exactly who she was—who dared to offend him by sending a cat-girl assassin.

  The moment the cat-girl emitted a sudden burst of light, Draven was convinced she was an assassin. To be honest, he found this a bit ridiculous. A cat-girl assassin? Who would take them seriously?

  Of course, it was not entirely black and white. Not all cat-girls were weak and powerless. Those with tiger-striped ears and tails were larger and stronger fighters. But most were considered weak by other subhuman races.

  Cat-girls were somewhat similar to dog-headed people but had significant differences. Both found it difficult to form stable tribes, and many tribe members eventually became slaves.

  However, dog-headed people were mostly cannon fodder and laborers, even treated as food. Cat-girls were different. Many powerful subhumans liked to keep cat-girl maids as a status symbol, and their treatment was naturally better than ordinary slaves.

  It was said that cat-girls disliked the term "slave." They had their own term—"Offering."

  This cat-girl before him was tightly bound by the sinews of a giant serpent beast but still struggled restlessly, writhing like a silkworm cocoon on the ground, trying to escape.

  Draven crouched down but didn't hurry to remove the beast hide from the cat-girl's mouth. Instead, with a mix of curiosity and interest, he carefully examined her.

  Ignoring the shame, anger, and fear intertwined in her eyes, the girl almost perfectly matched all of Draven's fantasies about cat-people.

  She looked both sweet and cute, with a hint of mischief sparkling in her eyes. Though petite and delicate, her figure was unmistakably distinct—especially with the sinews tightly binding her, making her curves even more prominent, as if about to burst free.

  Two fluffy cat ears twitched slightly atop her long silver hair, as if waving at Draven, adding a lively touch.

  Watching her writhing and struggling in her bonds, Draven couldn't help but reach out his large hand and gently cover one of those furry ears.

  A soft hissing sound came from her, and the soft, warm sensation almost made Draven forget who he was. He stroked the ear repeatedly with his fingertips until the skin turned red and hot, then reluctantly withdrew his hand.

  At that moment, the bound girl's cheeks flushed, her legs unconsciously crossed and twisted, and her gaze grew somewhat dazed—obviously flustered by the touch.

  The timing was just right. Only then did Draven take out the beast hide stuffed in her mouth and yank it sharply. The girl immediately let out a low, surprised "Ah."

  The sound carried the relief and shock of just being freed, nearly causing Draven to lose control.

  He smiled faintly, reached out to pinch her chin, and wore a teasing yet threatening grin. "Speak. Who exactly sent you to assassinate me?"

  In the eyes of the cat-girl, this tall werewolf was the embodiment of evil.

  The girl's name was Sylvia, a saintess from the Elven Kingdom. She had left her homeland and spent considerable time finding the legendary Holy Sword.

  Just as she was about to invoke the spirit of the Holy Sword, she was suddenly ambushed by this werewolf. The strike rendered her unconscious, and when she woke, she found herself tied up in a dark stone hut, cold and gloomy all around.

  Sylvia struggled desperately, but the serpent-like sinews only tightened the more she moved. Her breathing grew rapid; just as she was about to suffocate, she had no choice but to stop and quietly await what would come next.

  She was only 212 years old, barely 18 by human standards. Though young, as the saintess of the Elven Kingdom, her power was equivalent to that of a high-ranking leader among the subhumans. This talent was top-tier even in the Elven Kingdom, but at this moment, none of those advantages seemed to matter.

  She was bound by sinews meant for hunting subhumans—rough and tough, designed to tighten the more the prey struggled. Realizing that struggling only caused more pain, Sylvia temporarily gave up resisting.

  She thought that once the werewolf returned, explaining her identity would save her from harm. But after a long wait, a werewolf did arrive—not the one from last night.

  This unfamiliar werewolf's face showed surprise and fear. After entering the hut, he slammed the door shut without heeding Sylvia's calls.

  Through the door crack, Sylvia overheard two werewolves talking outside—they were discussing opening a tavern. She thought maybe once they were done, someone would finally take care of her.

  But things did not go as she hoped. Rough beast hides soon wrapped her tightly again. With a sudden jolt, she felt herself lifted off the ground—flying into the sky.

  Sylvia was puzzled. How could a subhuman werewolf possess such a rare flying magical beast? Was his identity far more complicated than she imagined?

  However, she had no time to ponder. Not long after flying, she was abruptly thrown to the ground. Looking up, she saw a malicious gleam in the werewolf's eyes.

  Gods, was this guy planning something shameful?