Sylvia wasn't unwilling to help Black Flag Territory summon the little sprites; it was just that she knew in her heart that, with her current strength, the chance of success was not very high.

  The High Elves never liked to measure each other's strength by levels. They considered that a crude practice, more fitting for humans.

  But reality was harsh. Sylvia understood clearly that she was just a tiny bit short of truly being able to summon the sprites. That subtle difference was like an arrow that slightly missed its mark—resulting in a completely different outcome.

  After learning of Sylvia's concerns, Draven did not push her. He smiled and said,"Do what you can. Black Flag Territory wasn't built in a day, and it won't stall just because of one little sprite."

  To be honest, he didn't fully realize how rare the little sprites actually were. Compared to Village No.1, the magical elements in Village No.2 were already noticeably more concentrated.

  Even without the sprites, the growth rate of those potions had become much faster than before. For a fledgling territory, that was already a huge improvement.

  But if he had a deeper understanding of what the sprites truly did, he certainly wouldn't appear so calm.

  The so-called little sprites were not juvenile elves. They were entirely different beings—spiritual entities born of nature itself, in a sense manifestations of nature's will.

  Their bodies were tiny and transparent, almost impossible to see with the naked eye, yet they possessed extremely high elemental affinity. Wherever sprites appeared, the concentration of magical energy would surge dramatically; plants and potions would grow at an extraordinary speed, and sometimes regional natural miracles would even form.

  Simply put, they were nature's most beloved children. But the problem was obvious—they were too fragile, fragile enough that a gust of wind or a drop of rain could harm them.

  Therefore, they rarely appeared in areas frequently inhabited by humans or demi-humans. Only a very few pure-blood High Elves could summon them, and Sylvia happened to be one of them.

  Draven's nonchalant attitude actually eased Sylvia a bit. Her promise was indeed made on the spot, at that moment she only wanted to appear more useful.

  Now that she calmed down, she began to worry: what if she failed? Would it be too embarrassing?

  They then continued to discuss the next steps. Draven proposed that Sylvia prioritize her enchantment skills on bloodline weapons—those weapons that resonated in some way with the user's body or bloodline.

  Ordinary weapons wouldn't waste her power for now, unless used for special missions. Sylvia nodded in agreement with this suggestion, as it would allow her to save more magical energy to practice summoning.

  Besides, since the spring planting season was already missed, there was no rush to plant food crops immediately. Draven hoped Sylvia could ask the Elven King to convey his request to continue collecting human-world food seeds—but it could be done without haste.

  "Let's collect some other things as well," Draven added.

  "Other things?" Sylvia blinked, a bit puzzled.

  "Yes, like their tools, books, herbs, clothing, spices, fabrics—anything you think is special or useful. Even just samples are fine."

  His tone was light, but his eyes were serious. He wasn't just being curious. He truly wanted to understand human society.

  Through conversations with Sylvia, Draven had gained more knowledge about this world. He knew that the world they lived in was called the World of Aurelia, and the vast continent beneath their feet—Valderra—was the largest landmass in this world.

  The entire continent resembled an irregular short spear, pointed at both ends with a wide middle section. The demi-humans mainly lived in the northern regions of the continent, while the southern vast lands were ruled by the human empire. The humans bordered the elves and shared some borders with the demi-humans.

  As for the far north of the continent, it was the legendary land of the dragons—extremely cold, mysterious, and dangerous. Between the demi-humans and dragons lay the territory of beast demons, a chaotic, brutal area free from order.

  Though Draven was merely a village lord, he never needed to know such things before. But now it was different. With Sylvia, with new allies, and ambitions to make Black Flag Territory truly rise, he had to start understanding the world's layout—even if only superficially.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  What interested him most were humans. He did not dislike humans; in fact, he was quite curious about them. He noticed that although humans were not as physically strong as demi-humans nor as long-lived as elves, they possessed a special ability: creation.

  He saw from the goods and items brought by the caravan that human craftsmanship was exquisite and their civilization advanced rapidly. This kind of progress was perhaps the direction Black Flag Territory needed to learn from.

  Sylvia nodded, though she didn't quite understand why a werewolf would be so curious about humans. But thinking about what Draven had said before, she suddenly didn't find it strange.

  This werewolf never played by the rules.

  After finishing the formal talk, Draven pulled out a faded piece of beast leather from his storage ring. On the leather, some crooked symbols were written—looking very old, with the ink somewhat faded.

  The writing was a messy transcription of elven script. Sylvia took it with some puzzlement and frowned slightly.

  She had never seen anyone write Elvish so poorly. Even a newly learning pixie couldn't write as badly as the characters on this piece of beast-hide.

  The handwriting was crooked and uneven in size, looking like it was scribbled by a child. Worse still, these symbols didn't form complete sentences at all.

  There was no connection between the words, as if they had been forcefully patched together by some brute force, with no discernible grammar or logic. Sylvia frowned, as if looking at a letter recently pulled from a fire pit, singed and charred.

  "What is this?" she looked up at Draven, her eyes full of confusion.

  The werewolf leader felt a bit embarrassed, rubbing his nose awkwardly."I copied it myself," he said quietly, his tone sounding like he was trying to save face for his ignorance.

  In fact, before starting the conversation with Sylvia today, he had suddenly remembered that his storage ring still contained a secret arts book he got from the blood elf Gareth.

  Although he didn't recognize the writing inside, he had a vague feeling that the book was extraordinary. After all, it was left behind by a blood elf, so it likely held some value.

  But he also knew that relations between blood elves and high elves had never been good, so it wouldn't be appropriate to bring the original book to Sylvia.

  So he simply picked a few pages and painstakingly copied them by hand, stroke by stroke. Though the handwriting was terrible, at least it wasn't too jarring. He thought that if the content truly had value, Sylvia would definitely be able to tell.

  "Do you recognize this?" he asked tentatively."Can you translate it?"

  He didn't really expect to learn some earth-shattering magic from this secret arts manual. As a werewolf, he was well aware that blood elves' combat style was mostly unsuitable for him.

  But he couldn't help but wonder what was written inside. Maybe some ideas could be borrowed; maybe it could bring some inspiration for the development of Black Flag Territory.

  Sylvia nodded without hesitation. She could tell this so-called secret manual was not any important document.

  Deciphering those broken, pieced-together sentences was just a waste of time. For her, translating them was a trivial matter.

  Seeing her agree, Draven visibly relaxed. Actually, the reason he made such a big deal out of today's conversation was to let Sylvia know he was serious about this territory.

  He hoped that this attitude would encourage Sylvia to invest more effort in the future. So far, it seemed to be working well.

  After the conversation, Draven walked to a corner of the chieftain hall and stood with his hands behind his back in front of the huge territory map.

  This map had been painstakingly drawn over the past few months and now looked quite complete. The locations of villages, the courses of rivers, and the layout of mountains were all clearly marked.

  Even the goblin-infested mines and the forest edges frequented by magical beasts had been noted. Compared to the crude sheepskin sketch they had when they first arrived, this was a real lord's map.

  Standing there, looking at the dense markings, a strange sense of satisfaction welled up in his heart.

  Sylvia's arrival had indeed accelerated Black Flag Territory's progress. Especially in fields like plant cultivation and potion management, her knowledge and abilities were impressive.

  Draven knew exchanging that useless holy sword for her help was the best deal he had ever made.

  But what he didn't know was that this seemingly good trade might soon affect the entire situation in Valderra.

  The loss of the holy sword was almost unknown among the common people of the Elven Kingdom. Though the higher-ups tried hard to conceal it, the sword had been absent for too long, and King Sigurd had long been troubled by it.

  For thousands of years, without the holy sword, the Elven Kingdom had lost its unified will; internal power was fragmented and morale had plummeted.

  Now, with the sword's return, the upper echelons of the Elven Kingdom rapidly gathered, believing this was the start of a change in their fate. Together with King Sigurd's firm leadership, a new era was brewing.

  They began reorganizing the army and strengthening the borders, while also turning their focus on an old enemy who had betrayed the kingdom and caused the loss of the sword: the blood elves.

  The scent of war was rising quietly.

  Meanwhile, the blood elves were still immersed in their own plans. They were expanding their influence in the lands of the demi-humans, clashing fiercely with a neighboring succubus tribe.

  The succubi were steadily retreating, forced to abandon their stronghold and withdraw to the central region, seeking protection from another succubus leader.

  These storms had not yet touched Black Flag Territory; Draven was completely unaware of them.

  He was sitting at his wooden desk, flipping through the manuscript Sylvia had translated for him.

  The paper was somewhat rough, but the text was clear and readable. At first, he casually glanced at it with little hope. But the more he read, the wider his eyes grew.

  "This thing can be used like this?" Draven held the manuscript, his eyes shining brighter and brighter.