Draven hadn't realized yet that he had already cast a heavy psychological shadow over Serpent Ancestor. The moment he stepped into the stone house, Serpent Ancestor was destined to endure a torturous ordeal.

  On the surface, Gregor acted properly, putting on a respectful demeanor to greet the leader's arrival. Yet there was a trace of nervousness in his eyes.

  Draven's cold gaze swept across the room without any emotion, and he threw out a single command:"Follow me."

  Serpent Ancestor's pupils involuntarily contracted. He could feel the strong displeasure in Draven's tone. He nervously glanced at Gregor; their eyes met— the snake man's gaze was blank, but it gave Serpent Ancestor a slight sense of comfort.

  No matter what, he was no longer alone.

  Draven led them wandering aimlessly through the village. Though it seemed casual, each step was deliberately visible to Green Serpent and the other snake men, with a clear purpose: to let them know what was about to happen.

  After a while, Draven casually mentioned,"I heard you recently got a new weapon?"

  Gregor's steps faltered, a flicker of surprise and suspicion crossed his face before he quickly put on a helpless expression. Rumors always spread eventually.

  Serpent Ancestor sneered inwardly— these weak-willed snake men were far too easily frightened.

  Cornered, Gregor had no choice but to show the bone weapon in front of the leader.

  Draven took the bone knife with interest, casually spinning the blade in his hand a few times, then lightly handed it back— but at the same time, he took Gregor's serpentine curved dagger.

  "Since you have a new toy, give me the curved dagger for now."

  "Yes, my lord." Gregor handed it over with both hands, his face full of unwillingness.

  Serpent Ancestor, lying on the ground, caught the reluctant expression on Gregor's face and felt secretly pleased.

  However, the next scene instantly wiped the smile off his face. A sudden, intense pain surged from the depths of his soul. Serpent Ancestor writhed on the ground, tightly closing his snake mouth, struggling desperately to hold back any sound.

  Draven had warned him: speaking without permission in front of others would result in permanently losing the ability to speak.

  This forced contract's oppression was brutal— a single thought from Draven was enough to make Serpent Ancestor wish he were dead.

  Draven stood coldly beside him, showing no sign of stopping. Only when Gregor couldn't hold back and stepped forward to plead was Serpent Ancestor's suffering relieved.

  But Draven's next words chilled Serpent Ancestor to the bone, as if he had fallen into an ice pit.

  "I remember the weapon you used when fighting Selene was exactly this kind of bone weapon, wasn't it?"

  Serpent Ancestor closed his eyes tightly, not knowing how to respond. Draven's words were clearly a reproach— why hadn't he presented this treasure back then?

  Draven would never allow him to feign death. He lifted his foot and stomped hard on the serpent's head, pressing it deep into the mud.

  Although the Phantom Demon Serpent's body was exceptionally tough, the muddy earth was soft from the rainy season. The humiliation of being crushed cut deep into Serpent Ancestor's soul like a sharp blade.

  He could only silently endure, even stripped of the right to make any sound. Serpent Ancestor felt utterly cold inside— who dared treat him like this a thousand years ago?

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  At that moment, Gregor intervened just in time to stop Draven. He knelt on one knee, holding out a beast-skin scroll with a worried face.

  "Lord, spare his life. Gregor is willing to offer the formula for a magic potion!"

  Draven looked at it coldly, took the formula with one hand, and a faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. Then, he withdrew his foot, releasing Serpent Ancestor's body, which had been half pressed into the mud.

  Gregor took the opportunity to pull Serpent Ancestor out of the mud, carefully wrapping him around his arm.

  "You two are quite close, huh!" Draven snorted coldly, turning away and heading toward Gregor's stone house without another word.

  The snake men, seeing this, all followed closely behind. Serpent Ancestor, wrapped around Gregor's arm, cast a grateful glance in his direction.

  After returning to the stone house, Draven feigned great interest in the potion formula, raising his brows slightly and asking with a hint of curiosity about its uses and ingredients. He acted extremely surprised, as if he had just obtained a world-shaking secret.

  "This can actually be used to trap magical beasts?" He squinted, his face full of excitement."If that's true, it will be a tremendous help for our hunts."

  Gregor, seeing this, played along with a sycophantic expression, echoing Draven's enthusiasm. Eventually, Draven smoothly acquired the secret formula, while Gregor won Serpent Ancestor's gratitude. The two understood each other tacitly, forming a subtle unspoken agreement.

  However, all this was far from enough. Draven was not here to simply rest at the stone house; his purpose ran far deeper than it seemed.

  He pointed at Serpent Ancestor coiled around Gregor's arm, his tone full of dissatisfaction:"Put him down."

  With a crisp snap, Serpent Ancestor didn't wait for Gregor to move, but jumped down quietly and stood at Draven's feet.

  At that moment, a sensation of the contract's resonance allowed Serpent Ancestor to perceive the killing intent that had just ignited in Draven. His heart tightened, almost leaving him breathless.

  "Now obedient, huh?" Draven sneered."Is that bone weapon still with you?"

  Serpent Ancestor lay flat on the ground, bitterness filling his heart. That bone weapon was a relic left by his serpent-body master a thousand years ago— there was no spare backup.

  But he knew clearly that if he didn't produce it today, he might not even keep his life. Helpless, he opened his snake mouth and spat out his last secret possession.

  On the ground fell a worn, palm-sized miniature armor model, like a delicate but broken small sculpture.

  Draven glanced at it with a flicker of recognition, then asked with some disdain,"What is this thing?"

  Serpent Ancestor's eyes showed deep reluctance, but he steeled himself and explained:"This is the Phantom Demon Armor. It can change size and repair itself. Once repaired, it is strong enough to withstand a lord-level full-force strike."

  Draven's eyes lit up at this and he gestured for Gregor to pick up the armor. Gregor carefully wiped it clean and respectfully handed it over.

  Draven hesitated briefly, but ultimately accepted the miniature armor. Held in his hand, it was almost weightless.

  Examining it closely, despite the damage, the armor's design was simple and archaic, completely black with a smooth surface and no unnecessary decoration.

  "How does this thing work?" he asked.

  "You only need to drip your blood on it, my lord," Serpent Ancestor replied.

  Draven extended a finger, sliced the fingertip, and let blood slowly drip onto the armor.

  At that moment, Serpent Ancestor seemed to feel a stab in his own heart from the blood. This armor was extraordinary— forged from the scales of the serpent-body master's own kin.

  The Phantom Demon Serpent's scales were so fine they were almost imperceptible, faintly glowing beneath the skin. The armor appeared smooth but was actually composed of countless tiny overlapping scales.

  Worn on the body, it was almost weightless. Even when damaged, it could repair itself automatically. Though its resistance weakened after repair, it would gradually strengthen over time.

  Ten thousand years ago, the Demon Serpent had been severely injured and the armor naturally shattered. Yet after all those years, when Serpent Ancestor awoke, he was surprised to find the armor restored to its original state and capable of withstanding lord-level attacks.

  Unfortunately, in the final battle against Selene, the armor was badly damaged again, unable to withstand her whip. But for Draven, it was already enough.

  The blood seemed to awaken the armor. Suddenly, the miniature model formed a mysterious connection with him. With a slight thought, the armor automatically expanded, quickly enveloping his entire body!

  Looking down, the palm-sized piece had transformed into a full set of knightly plate armor, the helmet fitting neatly over his head.

  The armor was entirely black, as if absorbing all surrounding light. Only his long wolf tail protruded from behind.

  He tried moving a few times; if not for seeing it with his own eyes, it was hard to believe he was actually wearing armor. It was incredibly light and did not hinder movement at all.

  Draven smiled inwardly— this really was a good piece of gear! With a thought, the armor flowed like liquid, gathering at his chest to form a breastplate that fit tightly over his heart.

  He reached out to remove the breastplate, surprised to find it didn't stick to his skin at all and was very flexible. Playing with the shape-shifting Phantom Demon Armor, Draven's lips curled into a proud smile.

  He asked how to accelerate the armor's repair. Upon learning that fusing bloodline weapons helped, Draven fell silent for a moment. Then, he took out from his pocket the spear that once belonged to Garruk.