Rurik stood in front of the notice board, staring at the announcement pinned to the wooden board, his brows tightly furrowed. He was reading it carefully, but he had no idea what it actually meant.

  He couldn't make sense of these units—he had never heard of them before. But he knew one thing: if it came from the lord's manor, then it definitely wasn't something random or trivial.

  Later, after asking one of the manor's attendants, he learned that Selene City was beginning to implement a unified system of measurements. For example, a small cup of bloodwine was now priced at twenty copper coins, and those twenty copper coins could be exchanged at the lord's manor for half a pound of magical beast meat—roughly the same amount as that cup.

  Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in Rurik's head."You can trade this stuff for meat?" Immediately, he realized copper coins were something valuable.

  Excited, he rushed back to the stone house and told Angelica everything. She only half understood, but seeing how serious he looked, she didn't interrupt.

  The next morning, Rurik carved a few extra lines onto the wooden sign of his tavern:"Each cup—20 copper coins. Trades welcome!"

  The lettering was hand-carved and a bit crooked, but the message was clear. To him, it wasn't just a pricing update—it was a proactive step into something new.

  But he quickly discovered that few beastkin were like him—young, open to change, and curious.

  Crowds came and went in the square, pointing at the notice and chattering about it. But real interest in its content was rare. Most people just saw it as another bothersome new rule, not worth thinking about.

  When the news reached Selene, she wasn't surprised at all. In fact, she remained unusually calm.

  Lydia stood beside her, her brows deeply furrowed."Is this human system really right for us?"

  Selene turned to look at her, eyes firm and composed."I will make them adapt."

  At the same time, in the chieftain's house in Village No. 2, Sylvia sat uncomfortably. She sat upright in a heavy wooden chair, legs together, hands folded in her lap, like she was preparing for an important exam.

  Draven sat across from her. He was dressed more neatly than usual today—he had even ironed out the creases in his cloak.

  He was here to do something serious, something long planned: to sit down and talk to Sylvia. He needed to know if she had come up with any ideas to help after observing the Black Flag Territory over the past few days.

  The room was silent, save for the occasional chirping of birds outside the window—a reminder it was still daytime.

  Sylvia glanced at the horn cup in her hand, took a small sip of bloodwine, cleared her throat, and said,"I've looked around a lot these past few days and spoken to a number of villagers. I've found that Black Flag Territory's development is quite similar to the way things are done in the human world."

  She paused and looked at Draven."Unlike other beastkin clans who emphasize individual strength or shun outsiders, you have plans, goals, and you care about whether people are fed. That's very different from the beastkin I've known before."

  Draven gave a slight nod. He thought to himself: You're right. Because deep down, I'm not from this world at all. But he didn't say that aloud. He just smiled and gestured for her to go on.

  "But I also know you don't plan to accept direct supplies from the elves. So I'll do what I can in other ways."

  "Such as?"

  "Magic," Sylvia said directly."I can enchant your weapons."

  Draven's eyes lit up, his interest instantly piqued."What kind of enchantments are we talking about?"

  "With the spells I currently know, I can imbue a weapon with up to three effects: weight reduction, durability, and sharpness."

  Draven raised an eyebrow."I understand durability and sharpness, but what does weight reduction mean? The weapon becomes lighter?"

  "Not exactly," Sylvia shook her head."The reduced weight only applies to the wielder. For others, it remains heavy. But to the user, it feels lighter and takes less effort to wield."

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  Draven nodded thoughtfully."So, in combat, the user becomes stronger, but the enemy wouldn't notice anything different?"

  "That's one way to think of it," Sylvia said with a smile.

  Draven reached behind him and placed his blood-colored spear on the wooden table between them."Can you try it on this?"

  Sylvia looked at the spear, raised her hands to her chest, and closed her eyes, beginning to chant softly. It was the ancient language of the elves—gentle and fluid, like a stream flowing through a forest.

  As her chanting picked up rhythm, the spear began to tremble slightly, as if it understood the ancient spell.

  Moments later, a warm white glow spread from the shaft, gradually enveloping the entire weapon. The spear began to rise, suspended mid-air as if held by an invisible hand.

  It wasn't until Sylvia finished her final incantation that the blood-colored spear slowly lost its buoyancy and landed back on the wooden table with a soft thud.

  She raised her head and glanced at Draven, her expression calm, but the corners of her lips curled slightly with pride.

  "It's done," she said simply.

  Draven blinked in surprise."That's it?" he asked, frowning, disbelief etched across his face.

  He had expected some kind of dramatic burst of light or at least a magical scroll bursting into flames. But the entire process had ended so quietly, so uneventfully.

  Yet the moment his fingers touched the spear's shaft, his doubts instantly vanished.

  "Lighter!" he gasped.

  The spear, once heavy and solid, now weighed only about half as much. He could lift it effortlessly. The shaft remained as firm as ever, but it felt as though some invisible force was helping him balance the weight. Draven's eyes lit up immediately.

  He gently touched the tip of the spear. A sharp jolt of pain pricked his fingertip, and he instinctively pulled his hand back. The spearhead was noticeably sharper than he remembered—so sharp it could slice through flesh with just a graze.

  Draven's gaze became focused and admiring. He looked at Sylvia as if she were a secret weapon that could change the tide of war.

  Sylvia added calmly,"Bloodline weapons can be enchanted permanently. But ordinary weapons will only hold the enchantment for a few hours."

  Draven nodded thoughtfully and gave a meaningful smile."Makes sense. If enchanting anything were that easy, dwarven blacksmiths would be out of work."

  He burst out laughing, as if a new door had suddenly opened in his mind. He swung the spear a few times—the movements were light, swift, far smoother than before. He could already picture himself tearing through enemy lines on the battlefield with ease.

  A hidden decision in his heart took another step forward: Sylvia must stay in the Black Flag Territory.

  He narrowed his eyes at her, smiling with playful curiosity."Got anything else up your sleeve?"

  Sylvia straightened her back, exuding even more of her natural confidence.

  "I know food is important to you," she said with a hint of pride in her voice."Although our elven cultivation methods aren't suitable for your people, I've already asked my father to send agents to the human world—to gather crop seeds for you."

  Draven froze, his eyes flaring like torches being lit."What did you say?!"

  He practically leapt from his chair, the legs screeching against the floor. He had never expected Sylvia to think of this—let alone act on it herself.

  Crop seeds. The one thing beastkin tribes lacked the most. It wasn't that they were unwilling to farm—it was that they didn't have seeds to begin with!

  Most of them didn't even understand the concept of farmland. No one had ever systematically managed a field. Edible plants were hunted or foraged, and proper agriculture was practically nonexistent in their world.

  He once encountered a human trade caravan in the Monkeykin territory and had cautiously inquired about grain seeds. They hadn't even looked at him, let alone offered to sell.

  And now, Sylvia not only thought of it—she took action herself!

  Draven began pacing the room in excitement."This is amazing! Absolutely amazing!"

  He was so overwhelmed that he couldn't even find the words to express his joy. He simply clapped Sylvia on the shoulder and burst out in praise:

  "Whatever you want, I'll give it to you! Just this one thing alone is worth ten holy swords!"

  Sylvia blushed slightly at his enthusiasm, biting her lower lip and murmuring,"Don't get too excited yet. We still don't know how much they'll be able to gather."

  "That's fine," Draven said with a broad wave of his hand. The smile on his face was as warm as midsummer sun."There's no rush at all."

  He knew it was already summer and that spring planting season had passed. But as long as they had seeds, they could begin planting next year. And once they started sowing—there was a future.

  But Sylvia wasn't finished."Aside from seeds, I also asked my father to find books about cultivation in the human world."

  Draven raised a brow and looked at her."You know quite a lot."

  Sylvia smiled, her eyes gleaming."Seeds aren't everything. Different plants have different soil requirements, growth cycles, care needs. Just having seeds doesn't mean they'll survive. And even if they grow, you still need to know how to harvest and process them.

  Take wheat for example—just getting the husks off might already be a challenge for your people."

  Draven listened, a little skeptical inside, but he nodded on the surface."You're right. We're not very good at that stuff."

  As he spoke, he once again turned his gaze toward the cat-eared elf before him, his eyes burning with expectation. To him, Sylvia felt like an endless treasure trove—who knew what surprise she'd bring out next?

  However, Sylvia simply spread her hands and gave a slightly helpless look."Honestly, I spent most of my time meditating in the Holy Sword Tower. I've never really been involved in kingdom affairs. What I've told you is already everything I could come up with."

  She had worried Draven would be disappointed. But before she could finish her thought, a flash of inspiration struck, and she quickly added:

  "But—on the next full moon night, I can try summoning a batch of pixies. They might be able to help with delicate tasks, like caring for seeds or repelling pests."

  The words were barely out of her mouth when she already regretted saying them.