Cedric had always been one of Selene's most trusted subordinates. As long as she gave the order, no matter how far or dangerous the mission, he never hesitated.

  This time, he received a task: to head south and investigate the true origin of the deputy city lord, Freya. Cedric didn't ask many questions. For a swift-winged intelligence agent like him, this kind of job was nothing unusual.

  He was used to flying over vast unfamiliar lands to gather information for his mistress.

  He pulled his hood over his head and hid his wings beneath a wide black cloak. Even in the air, discretion was necessary. After all, the appearance of an eagle-human was too conspicuous, and in this region, it would only bring unnecessary trouble.

  Flying south, he quickly reached his destination—the original territory of the southern succubus tribe, the very place Freya had mentioned. But when he sneaked in for a look, the scene before him made him frown.

  The entire area looked like it had just suffered a great disaster. The city once belonging to the succubi had been taken over by the blood elves. The streets were in ruins, heavily guarded, and blood elf patrols could be seen everywhere.

  The succubi's traces had vanished, and even the air was thick with the scent of the foreign race.

  Blending into the crowd, he posed as a traveling merchant to gather intelligence. After several probes, he was almost certain: what Freya said was basically true.

  The southern succubi had been suddenly attacked and utterly defeated. The core city had completely fallen into blood elf hands. And judging by the timeline, it was very likely that Freya and her group had already fled by the time the war occurred.

  But what truly set Cedric on alert was a crucial discovery. After multiple inquiries, he finally heard some rumors.

  The true succubus lord had already died in battle on the eve of the city's fall. She and her trusted allies had died at the hands of the blood elves.

  And Freya—the woman now sitting on the deputy city lord's throne in Selene City—was at that time merely a personal maid to a lord!

  This news sent a chill through Cedric's body. Instinctively, he wanted to dig deeper, but at that moment, he sensed his movements had been exposed.

  Someone was following him. Cedric quickly calmed down and shook off the tail. He didn't engage or continue investigating. He was a messenger, not an assassin. His duty was not to fight but to deliver important information accurately.

  A few hours later, he found shelter in a remote village, quickly organized the intelligence, and then took flight northward.

  He knew the information he brought back would make Selene think deeply.

  "You say she was only a maid before?" Selene flipped through the scroll of intelligence, her tone calm, but the courtiers sitting below her throne all felt the air grow heavy.

  Cedric nodded."I confirmed it repeatedly. The southern lord truly died in battle. Freya's name was barely mentioned during that time, only as a maid."

  Selene was silent for a moment. Leaning back on her throne, her gaze was icy cold.

  "A maid, fleeing with the remnants of her people to seek refuge with me, and yet somehow she transformed into a so-called lord."

  A hint of disdain curled on her lips.

  "She did bring a group of succubi, and those people seem to obey her without question. Seems plausible, doesn't it?"

  Cedric lowered his head, saying nothing.

  Selene narrowed her eyes slightly, tapping her throne's armrest with her fingertips. She always felt she wasn't Freya's best choice!

  If the southern succubi still had any strength, their first choice should have been the Hell Demon King to the northwest, or even drifting toward the Abyss. No one would think to come seek me, an isolated ruler with no support.

  She sighed softly—not in melancholy, but in caution. So either Freya had another purpose, or someone else was behind her. Looks like she needed to send someone to investigate the south properly…

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  Just then, a guard outside reported: the werewolf leader Draven requested an audience.

  Selene raised an eyebrow and snorted coldly. He still knows to come see me?

  Her voice was low but full of displeasure. She waved her hand."Let him in."

  The guard left on order.

  Soon, Draven appeared at the hall's center, respectful and with his head lowered, looking uneasy.

  "Rise," Selene said coldly,"Why are you here this time?"

  Draven stood and hurriedly took out dozens of jars of wine from his storage ring, smiling as he said,

  "This is the gift from Black Flag Territory for next month."

  His face was full of ingratiating smiles, but inside he felt bitter.

  He felt like a spineless serf, dragging wine jars to pay rent to the lord, all the while cautiously watching the lord's expression, afraid that one displeased glance could cost him his life.

  Selene simply raised a finger, and the jars floated up neatly, then disappeared beside her.

  Draven felt a chill in his heart. Such a small magic trick yet it gave him an unshakable sense of oppression.

  In this world, might is right, and Selene's fist was clearly stronger than anyone else's.

  No matter how much he resented it, he could only grit his teeth and swallow it.

  He understood that to survive in this chaotic land, he must learn to bow his head.

  Draven smoothly pulled out the carefully prepared Octagonal Lantern from his bosom.

  "I heard you were interested in the lanterns at the market."

  "So I present to you this Octagonal Lantern, personally crafted by me, for Lady Selene's enjoyment."

  As he spoke, he held the lantern with both hands, bowed his body, sticking out his hips—a shamelessly brazen act of taking credit for the work Martha and the others had done, as if it were entirely his due.

  Selene's eyes flickered slightly, clearly drawn by the lantern's unusual shape. She was well-experienced, but the craftsmanship and patterns on this lantern were exquisitely intricate in a way she had never seen before. The lines were sharp yet soft, and a warm blue flame flickered quietly inside it.

  He claimed he had made it himself, and for some reason, that brought a strange sense of pleasure to her heart.

  Yet on the surface, she remained cold and aloof, her voice still calm:"Put it there. Anything else?"

  Draven froze. He had been hoping to gain something from this opportunity—at least a compliment, or some silver as a reward. But Selene's attitude clearly meant to send him away.

  He awkwardly placed the lantern carefully on the ground, then turned and took a few slow steps away, his face full of resentment.

  A city ruler, yet so casually accepting a handmade lantern from me?

  He grumbled silently, full of grievance. If not for her status, he really wanted to turn back and take the lantern away.

  Just then, Selene's calm voice came from behind him:"What do you think of the Succubus Trading Company?"

  Draven stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around, a puzzled expression on his face."Are you asking me?"

  Selene narrowed her eyes and stared coldly at him, as if saying,"Well, what do you think?"

  Draven hurried back to his original spot and stood at attention. He didn't want to get involved in this topic. His previous attempt at flattery had failed, leaving him in a sour mood. Why ask if she wasn't going to pay?

  He dryly spat out some official-sounding words, his mouth feeling like it was chewing on sand:"Lady Selene is wise and intelligent. Naturally, the Succubus Trading Company is thriving and prosperous. Draven is just a simple man and can only admire it from afar."

  His perfunctory tone made it obvious to anyone that he was full of reluctance and resistance.

  Selene narrowed her eyes, looking at the werewolf standing in the middle of the hall, and with one sentence exposed his half-hearted attitude:"What kind of attitude is this?"

  Her voice was no longer indifferent, but filled with anger."Think carefully before you answer."

  Draven was stunned, cursing in his heart:"I didn't provoke her. Why's she exploding now? Maybe she's on her period?"

  But his face remained expressionless. The best way to handle a hard-to-please mistress was to stay silent. She could vent all she wanted; he wouldn't respond.

  He lowered his head, putting on a submissive, obedient posture, hands behind his back, standing still like a soldier being punished for a mistake.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw the lantern still resting on the ground. Suddenly, he wanted to crouch down and retrieve it. He thought maybe he should have sold it at the market instead—it might have fetched a good price.

  Selene was irritated by his attitude. Every time she saw this werewolf, it felt like meeting a different person. Just moments ago he was grinning cheekily; now he was like a block of wood. She wasn't fooled—she knew Draven resented her.

  She changed her position, crossing her legs and leaning back against the chair. She knew well that Draven's attitude was a hint: no benefits, no cooperation.

  She sneered slightly and finally said,"Then say it—what's your opinion?"

  "Well said, and your lordship shall be rewarded."

  Draven instantly changed his expression, smiling brightly and shamelessly raising his head, his eyes sparkling:"Opinion? I'm just a rough man. But I do think the beast-controlling rings in the trading company are quite good."

  He coughed modestly. He'd learned from past mistakes—this time, he would secure the reward before giving any ideas. No way was he going to volunteer suggestions first.

  Selene's mouth curved into a mocking smile, as if looking at a petty street hustler who loved a bargain. She slowly raised a hand, and in her palm appeared a cold-glowing metal ring.

  She casually shook the beast-controlling ring:"I have one of these rings. What's your idea?"

  Draven froze for half a second, his mouth twitching. Damn it, she actually came prepared?

  That thing was worth 500 gold coins! But he couldn't admit he hadn't thought of anything yet. After all, the look in her eyes now held a hint of curiosity. If he continued to slack off, he might lose even that lantern.

  Draven's eyes darted as his mind raced. No ideas? Make one up! Draven was never short of a smooth tongue.