Draven moved a finger, and the metal plates on his armor automatically detached, revealing his strong, dexterous hands.

  He looked down at the unconscious succubus and squatted beside her, binding her up tightly without a hint of mercy.

  His technique was swift and practiced, binding her limbs together as if packaging a wild beast. Her skin was smeared with wet mud and broken leaves.

  After standing up, he didn't act immediately. He simply waited in silence. She was still alive—sooner or later, she would wake up.

  A few minutes later, the succubus on the ground stirred slightly.

  Draven noticed instantly."You're faking. Cut the act."

  By this time, Draven had already put away his lizard cloak, and his entire body was encased in his pitch-black Wraith Armor.

  Seeing no reaction from her, he let out a cold snort and stomped down hard on her pale abdomen.

  Valeria's eyes flew open, a pained cry escaping her lips. Her body tried to curl up from the sharp pain, but she couldn't move at all.

  She was bound too tightly—beast tendons dug into the gaps between her flesh, and every struggle felt like needles piercing her skin.

  She groaned in agony and looked up at the man clad in armor. His face was emotionless, and his eyes were cold as ice. Fear rose from deep within her heart.

  She had only come into the woods to find shelter from the rain. She never imagined she'd run into a real demon.

  Her eyes flicked toward her companion not far away—the same one who used to laugh and mock the fragility of humans with her. Now, she hung limply from a boulder like a slaughtered animal.

  She didn't want to end up like that.

  Valeria's voice trembled."What do you want?"

  Draven stared at her for two seconds, then suddenly gave a cold smile."Do you want to live?"

  "Yes!" Valeria shouted without hesitation. Survival was a succubus's most basic instinct. Even if it meant throwing away her dignity. Even if it meant begging on her knees.

  She knew when to yield. Without that instinct, she would've died long ago in the massacre of the blood elves.

  "Submit," Draven said.

  Valeria understood. He wasn't planning to kill her. He was offering her a way to live.

  She didn't hesitate. In that moment, there was no shame in her eyes, only the burning desire to survive.

  She took a deep breath and began to channel her bloodline power from her forehead. Crimson markings emerged, like tiny fiery serpents writhing beneath her skin.

  Draven looked a little surprised. Not even a moment's hesitation?

  Were southern succubi always so quick to kneel? He sneered inwardly but still extended his hand, pressing his own bloodline power into her forehead, completing the contract.

  Their bloodlines connected, their auras entangled.

  It was an irreversible bond—once formed, her soul and body were fully under the master's control.

  "It's done," Draven said quietly.

  The next second, the succubus before him suddenly changed. The pain on her face vanished. She lifted her head, eyes now sultry and submissive, a charming smile curling her lips.

  "Master, may I be untied now?" she asked in a soft, melodious voice.

  Draven forcibly shoved away the memory of her boasting earlier—how she claimed she could make any man beg for mercy three times.

  "Do not try to seduce your master," he barked coldly, like a machine made of steel.

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  With that, he bent down and quickly untied the beast tendons binding her. His movements were swift and efficient, without the slightest hesitation.

  "Put your clothes back on. And what's your name?"

  The succubus slowly sat up, rubbing her wrists. She still wore that pleasing smile on her face.

  "Valeria, Master. My name is Valeria."

  Draven waved her off, uninterested in hearing more. Her eagerness to please made him uncomfortable.

  He turned and walked toward the boulder, yanking the blood-red spear from it. The shaft shimmered with light, and warm energy surged from the grip through his entire body.

  It was pure bloodline energy.

  Draven closed his eyes, feeling the absorbed power coursing through him. He knew this was no ordinary weapon—it came from that red serpent.

  A weapon that could draw bloodline energy from enemies and convert it into the wielder's strength. A true treasure.

  "No wonder that red serpent was so hard to kill," he muttered.

  Blood surged in his veins as he gripped the spear tightly. First the seventeen minotaurs, and now a leader-level succubus.

  Even though the Bloodred Spear only absorbed one-fifth of the bloodline power with each use, as long as the accumulation lasted long enough, it was more than enough to make Draven's body stronger and more saturated with power.

  It was a kind of nourishment from the very source, like being reforged after being tempered in flames. He glanced down at the slightly shriveled corpse of the succubus on the ground. After a moment of contemplation, he waved his hand and stored it in his spatial ring.

  A leader-class corpse already had research value in itself, not to mention this one still retained traces of demonic energy and bloodline fluctuations.

  It would be a shame to waste it. Better to bring it back and feed it to the Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent. That creature had been acting strange lately—maybe this meal would trigger a breakthrough.

  Draven had no idea of the trouble brewing back home. Everything had still been calm when he left.

  At that moment, the Black Flag Territory was anything but idle.

  Viola stood by the hall window, staring at the gray, overcast sky. It had just rained, and the mountain forest outside looked damp and stifling.

  She turned to glance at the Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent coiled in the corner. The creature had curled into a tight ball and lay motionless, looking as if it were already dead.

  "What the hell happened to you…" she murmured with a sigh and walked over.

  Last night, Bran from Village One had come rushing back in a panic with the Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent, saying it had been convulsing the whole way and had eventually gone completely still.

  They'd originally planned for Draven to take a look, but with the chief away, the responsibility temporarily fell to Viola.

  Now, however, the once fierce and valiant Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent was breathing so faintly it was barely perceptible.

  Its once earthy brown scales had turned pale, as though some vital essence had been completely drained.

  Viola's heart sank. The Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent had been the first leader-class magical beast Draven had ever subdued—it held deep meaning for him. If it died, he would undoubtedly be devastated.

  She could only hope that Draven would return soon—and better yet, with a way to save it.

  ...

  At that moment, Draven stood at the foot of the mountain, face dark as thunder. He had just gotten the gist of the situation from Valeria.

  "You said your mission was to find the elven princess?" he asked coldly, gazing down at the kneeling succubus, his eyes glinting with murderous intent.

  "Yes, Master," Valeria replied, bowing her head, her expression sycophantic.

  "We were merely ordered to locate her. We don't know her name or exact appearance. Just that she's somewhere within Selene's territory."

  "Who gave you this order?" Draven demanded.

  "It was Freya," Valeria looked up, blinking innocently."She's the one who gave the command."

  Draven dismissed his Ghost Armor, revealing his true appearance. His brow was deeply furrowed, and unease gripped his chest.

  If Valeria was telling the truth, then the elven princess must be Sylvia—and Sylvia was currently in Black Flag Territory.

  He drew a deep breath of the damp post-rain mountain air but felt no relief. On the contrary, the heat within his body only burned hotter, like flames scorching his skin.

  He thought it was worry for Sylvia, but he failed to notice the faint red veins that had appeared in his eyes—

  a side effect of drawing the Bloodred Spear, as the weapon's power had already begun silently eroding his body.

  "Who exactly is Freya?" he asked, eyes locked onto Valeria.

  "We don't know much about her either," Valeria said softly, adjusting the leather armor she had just put on as she knelt with graceful submissiveness—her posture obedient yet subtly seductive.

  "She used to be a maidservant to our succubus lord in the south. Then the blood elves invaded, and our lord was slain. Most of us were captured and enslaved."

  Draven:"And then she rescued you?"

  "Yes." Valeria nodded, a complicated look flickering in her eyes."She advanced to lord rank, risked her life to rescue us from the blood elves, and personally freed us from our enslavement contracts."

  Draven fell silent in thought. One crucial detail stood out—Freya had only recently become a lord.

  That meant her power was still unstable, possibly reliant on some external force.

  He stared at Valeria's face—and noticed something odd. Her expression was filled with hopeful flattery, even deliberate provocation.

  Valeria was fully aware of the shift in Draven's gaze. Slowly, she straightened her upper body, letting more of her curves show beneath the armor.

  She knew her body wasn't the most powerful weapon among succubi, but when facing a man still flushed from battle and surging with blood, physical cues like these could have unexpectedly strong effects.

  Draven's breathing grew slightly heavier.

  He glanced at the spear in his hand—blood still dripping from its tip. With a trace of irritation, he flicked the blood off and looked back at Valeria.

  "Valeria, my spear needs to be wiped down."

  But as he said it, he casually stored the spear into his ring instead.

  "As you command, Master~" Valeria smiled with sultry sweetness, her eyes glistening like honey.