Draven didn't blame any of them. Growth always came step by step—it could never be achieved overnight. Hunting skills didn't apply on the battlefield; they had to adjust slowly and learn to survive in a new, cruel environment.

  He merely gave them a few simple reminders to stay vigilant, then dismissed them to rest.

  The noise outside gradually died down. Draven rolled up the beastskin letter he had written and carefully tied it to the leg of the Ghost-faced Owl.

  In addition to delivering a message to Viola and the others, the letter also contained some crucial arrangements.

  He released the Ghost-faced Owl and watched as it flapped its wings and soared into the distance. Then he stepped out of the cave and walked into a spacious open square outside.

  At the center of the square stood a statue of Selene, roughly the same height as the goddess herself. It was obvious it hadn't been worshipped much.

  Not far from the statue, the corpses of fallen Black Werewolves and Kobold slaves had been placed haphazardly.

  In contrast, the treatment of the dead Hyena Men was worse—their bodies had been dumped outside the stone walls.

  Draven walked over, his gaze complicated, a trace of pity stirring in his heart. But he still drew the Spear of Slaughter from his waist and gently tapped the corpses. One by one, they withered, their flesh and blood vanishing until only dry bones remained.

  The rest was given to Gregor and the Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent. As the number of corpses on the square decreased, Draven felt his mind calm a little.

  He ordered Bran and Titus to bury the bodies of their respective clans. He hoped that by confronting death directly, they would mature faster and learn to accept the harsh reality.

  Hyena Man Sardon stared blankly at the remains of his clanmates, pain twisting inside him, though he dared not show it.

  He knew the beastkin had already shown great mercy by not turning the enemy's bodies into jerky. He hadn't expected the enemy to come so quickly, or to be so powerful.

  The leader was high-tier, flanked by two mid-tier commanders—no wonder the once-dominant Serpentfolk had vanished so suddenly.

  Thinking of the pact he'd made with the Leopard Tribe and the Black Tiger Tribe, Sardon felt an intense irony. The Hyena Tribe was finished—and they wouldn't escape either.

  That thought brought him a strange sense of calm. In the face of despair, the misfortune of others could be a kind of comfort.

  But Draven didn't give him much time to dwell in that false comfort. After inspecting the cave and confirming there was no immediate danger, Draven called Sardon over and ordered a full report on the other two tribes.

  Unlike the submissive Green Serpent after their defeat, Sardon wasn't obsequious—but he was more treacherous. He seemed to have adopted a scorched-earth mentality, spilling every secret about the Leopard Tribe and the Black Tiger Tribe.

  He clearly listed their population numbers, the ranks of their leaders, and how many bloodline warriors they had. He even drew rough maps of their village layouts.

  As Draven listened, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. He began calculating in his mind. Since Sardon was so eager to cooperate, he would give him more opportunities—he'd use every resource the Hyena had.

  Just then, the Ghost-faced Owl—still carrying the letter—fluttered into the stone house of Village No. 2. The moment it entered, it spotted the one thing it had dreamed of seeing: an icehawk.

  For a moment, it froze. Its round eyes lit up, and it completely forgot about the letter tied to its leg.

  As it crept quietly toward the elegant icehawk, Liliana suddenly grabbed it. She untied the beastskin letter from its leg and tossed it to the ground with a slap.

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  "Viola! It's a letter from Draven!" Liliana exclaimed, shaking the letter excitedly.

  Viola quickly took it, huddling with Liliana to read it carefully. On the floor, the Ghost-faced Owl covered its head with its wings. The icehawk tilted its head and blinked at it, as if to comfort it.

  After reading the letter, Viola finally let out a breath of relief. Their own messenger was indeed reliable—unlike Sylvia's icehawk, which had shown up but stubbornly refused to hand over the message.

  She knew the icehawk was waiting for Draven himself, and could only continue treating it with patience.

  Liliana was still playing with the two chieftain-level magical birds, her laughter echoing through the stone house. But she knew she couldn't indulge for long—there were more important things to do. She had to start preparing for the next steps.

  Draven's letter had made things clear: the Hyena Man tribe had been subdued, and now it was her job to handle the aftermath and begin the necessary preparations.

  The next morning, Draven did not immediately launch an attack on the next village. He knew the Hyena Man settlement had to be thoroughly cleaned up before he could claim true control.

  Chieftain Sardon had enforced strict discipline over his people, and the Hyena Man tribe had surrendered completely. The Hyena Man warriors who had been swallowed by the Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent were even spat back out.

  After counting, only about a hundred warriors remained. Two-thirds of their original force had perished in the battle—the Hyena Men had suffered a devastating loss.

  Besides these warriors, Draven assigned over a hundred Kobold slaves to Titus for management.

  As for the remaining four to five hundred elders, women, and children, they had almost no combat ability and were essentially useless burdens. Since no additional territory had been captured, the campaign was, in some sense, a loss for Draven.

  Standing outside the village, Draven watched as Sardon directed his people to pack their belongings and clean up their ruined homes. He shook his head with a bitter smile.

  After the rainy season, the Hyena Men had barely any food left—their lives were already desperate. No wonder they had planned to invade the Black Flag Territory and steal resources from elsewhere.

  Draven inhaled the cool early morning air deeply. He knew that even if this operation cost more than it earned, the expansion of territory had to continue.

  If he wanted to ascend to a true lord, he would need more land—and more people.

  During his last trip to Selene City, Draven had learned the secret of lordship from Selene herself. There were two ways to ascend.

  One was to rely on external forces—using high-grade magic cores or advanced potions to forcibly break through. But this path came with significant long-term drawbacks.

  When relying on external means, a faith halo could support at most three basic abilities, limiting future growth.

  The second path was through one's own strength. When an apeman's power reached the peak of high-tier chieftain, they could attempt to condense the so-called Will of the Lord and achieve a breakthrough through a Faith Halo—ascending to lord-level.

  This path was harder, but purer—with far greater growth potential.

  However, Selene's descriptions of the"Will of the Lord" and"Faith Halo" were vague and difficult to grasp. Not because she deliberately withheld information, but because this was a form of profound spiritual power—unique to each individual lord.

  Even those with experience couldn't explain it in simple terms.

  The only clear instruction Selene had given was: to condense the Will of the Lord, one must possess a vast enough territory.

  Unfortunately, the Serpent Ancestor was still in seclusion, so Draven couldn't verify the details and could only begin preparing on his own. After all, Selene remained one of his most trusted allies.

  Draven assigned Gregor, along with Bran and Titus, to escort the Hyena Man's noncombatants—the elders, women, and children.

  In addition to the people, the escort also included what little non-combat goods the tribe had left. Everything was sent to Village No. 2, where Viola would oversee their integration and management.

  Bran and Titus brought nearly half of the Black Flag's guard force, and with over a hundred newly subjugated slaves and a mid-tier commander like Gregor in charge, Draven wasn't worried about the weak Hyena Men causing any trouble.

  He had kept his promise—not to enslave them. But he had no intention of granting them true freedom either. The children would adapt easily, and as for the women and elders, Black Flag Territory would find them new roles and purpose.

  Watching his people being pushed and prodded by Kobolds as they left their old home behind, Sardon felt a heavy sadness settle in his heart. But he dared not show it.

  He understood this outcome was inevitable. All he could do now was endure and carry on.

  From time to time, the escort column echoed with sobs and cries. The former slave Kobolds showed no mercy—any tribesman who walked too slowly was met with punches and kicks.

  Bran and Titus didn't intervene, and the Serpentfolk clones didn't waste their breath. War was cruel. Had they lost instead, the Black Flag Territory's fate would have been far worse.

  Draven stood silently, watching the escort group fade into the distance. In his heart, he was already planning the next battle. Once Gregor returned with his men, the new campaign would begin.

  But before that, more detailed strategic planning was needed. The Dorian brothers' scout teams had already spread out to gather intelligence. Draven was waiting for their latest reports.