Martha's advancement went more smoothly than expected.

  With the combined support of mid-grade Bloodwine and a magic core—along with the accumulation and tempering she had undergone over the years—she encountered almost no resistance and successfully completed her second bloodline awakening.

  When she opened her eyes again, her amber pupils were filled with undisguised surprise and excitement.

  Yet the first thing she did wasn't to carefully sense the new power that came with becoming Leader-rank. Instead, she lunged forward and pinned Draven to the ground.

  Her body was nimble, her long legs strong and agile. She coiled around him like a vine, holding him firmly in place.

  At the exact moment this motion was completed, two small pairs of eyes suddenly popped out from behind a wine jar—round and curious, staring straight at the scene before them.

  It was the two baby octopuses, peeking.

  Draven was speechless. He suddenly realized he had accidentally given the octopuses a live demonstration of something very inappropriate for minors—a direct impact on their previously uncorrupted little minds.

  Outside, heavy rain continued to beat against the earth, and thunder rolled low in the distance.

  Inside the wine cellar, however, emotions had gradually begun to settle.

  When Draven finally noticed those two shameless little eyes, he glared in their direction.

  But the octopuses didn't even flinch. They stretched out their tentacles and gave a little wave, as if to say:

  We saw everything! And you can't do a thing about it!

  Draven clenched his jaw—but in the end, he chose to ignore them.

  He silently prayed: Please, please don't let these two grow up weird because of this...

  Martha was now resting against his chest, her face wearing a lazy, satisfied expression—but with a faint touch of embarrassment, like someone who had just done something sneaky.

  Especially in a place like the wine cellar—the atmosphere was indescribably awkward.

  As Draven gently stroked Martha's long, slender legs, his mind began to drift toward other potential locations for their next time.

  A tree? Too uncomfortable.

  A pool? If we had one, that would be perfect!

  Just as he was daydreaming, Martha pulled him up from the floor, bringing him back to reality and reminding him there were still important things to do.

  Among demi-human races, a second bloodline awakening often unlocked unique bloodline talents.

  Draven himself had, during that stage, formed a mental bond with his companion beast Ragnar.

  As for the deerfolk, he didn't know much about the specifics of their bloodline mechanisms.

  Martha got dressed and smoothed out her clothes. A confident smile appeared on her face.

  Just as Draven was about to ask her what had changed, a soft glow began to radiate from her body.

  The light coalesced into a distinct form—suddenly, a small, spotted deer appeared in front of her.

  The deer was only the size of a puppy, its entire body covered in pale golden speckles. It looked like a living plush toy—adorable beyond belief.

  At first, Draven didn't take it too seriously.

  What is this, a decorative mascot? he thought.

  But the very next second, his expression changed.

  Guided by a flick of Martha's finger, the little deer began to run—gracefully and swiftly, darting around the wine cellar.

  It passed straight through walls—and even the heavy wine jars posed no obstacle at all.

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  Draven's face turned serious.

  He finally sensed the unique aura of the small deer.

  It wasn't fully corporeal. Instead, it existed in a strange flux between reality and illusion.

  The magical energy it released was extremely faint—almost undetectable. If it hadn't been for the brief disturbances caused when it passed through objects, Draven would never have realized it wasn't an ordinary creature.

  Martha smiled and explained,"This is our deerfolk bloodline talent—the Spirit-Linked Deer Whistle."

  After listening to her explanation, Draven finally understood the nature of this mysterious little creature.

  The Spirit-Linked Deer Whistle had two distinct forms.

  The first was the current scout form—a miniaturized deer, light and fast, nearly impossible to detect. Most importantly, it could freely switch between physical and ethereal states, allowing it to phase through walls and obstacles with ease.

  It was perfect for reconnaissance.

  The second form transformed the deer into a full-sized adult, about the size of a real fallow deer.

  In this state, it lost its stealth ability but could unleash the full magical aura of a Leader-rank beast.

  Unfortunately, after testing, Draven realized that even in its combat form, the Spirit-Linked Deer Whistle's fighting capability was at the lower end of the Leader-tier.

  But then again, the deerfolk were never known for brute strength.

  Possessing such a scout-type summon was already extremely useful.

  In critical moments, even if it couldn't fight well, it could still buy its master a precious moment of survival.

  And Martha's Spirit-Linked Deer Whistle…

  It held one more practical secret ability...

  As long as Martha remained safe, even if the little deer was discovered or even destroyed, she could still summon it again—so long as she replenished enough energy.

  For the Deerkin, who specialized in stealth and reconnaissance, this ability was practically the perfect scout skill.

  Draven stayed with Martha in the wine cellar, helping her adjust to her newly acquired chieftain-level power. During a break in their training, his eyes wandered and landed on the wooden rack stacked with wine urns. A spark of inspiration flashed through his mind.

  "This place could work too," he thought with a grin.

  He walked over to the rack, wrapped his arm around Martha's slender waist, and gently lifted her up onto it.

  Martha seemed to understand immediately. Her long legs instinctively hooked around him.

  Everything went smoothly—except for the two little octopuses by the wine rack. They clearly hadn't expected to be caught up in such a situation.

  Draven made no effort to restrain himself, and the entire rack began to sway back and forth. It was loaded with heavy wine urns, after all.

  If not for the quick reflexes of the two octopuses—who frantically used their tentacles to steady the urns while letting out urgent squeals—the whole romantic assault would've ended with shattered ceramics and spilled wine.

  Given the less-than-ideal setting, the two of them couldn't truly indulge themselves. With a trace of regret and lingering dissatisfaction, Draven led Martha out of the cellar.

  As they walked, he silently resolved that once Martha officially took up residence in Village No. 1, he would absolutely install a few special"facilities" in her house.

  Outside, the torrential rain showed no sign of letting up.

  They returned to the stone house and gathered around the fireplace for a modest celebration of Martha's awakening. With her new ability, Martha summoned her three younger brothers.

  For lunch, Draven personally cooked up a table full of steaming hot dishes.

  The Dorian brothers looked a little stiff—understandable, considering the aura of a werewolf chieftain was quite intimidating. Unlike the easygoing Alaric, these brothers were slightly older and more aware of social cues.

  Still, after this meal, per Draven's arrangement, they would remain in Village No. 1 with Martha.

  Martha would serve as the base commander, overseeing the breeding and deployment of the Gold-Devouring Demon Ants. The scouting squad's operations would be entirely handed over to the Dorian brothers.

  Young men needed trials to grow. Compared to Alaric's somewhat reckless nature, Martha's brothers actually gave Draven more peace of mind.

  Over the past few weeks, they had already completed a preliminary survey of the roads connecting the three villages.

  At the table, Draven made an immediate decision: Alec would lead the team to finish the last stretch of road, while Dorian and Samuel were to expedite the survey of arable land.

  Since the cassava propagation experiment had succeeded, Viola and the slave girls had been busily replanting summer tubers. If they moved quickly, they might even catch the wheat sowing window.

  This was critical for the food supply of the entire Black Flag Territory, and Draven's tone turned noticeably more serious when assigning the task.

  But even with the seriousness, a festive atmosphere still had to be maintained at the table.

  Draven brought out his prized blood wine and monkey liquor, immediately lightening the mood.

  A few drinks in, Dorian's cheeks were tinged with red as he launched into an enthusiastic boast about the Deerkin's specialty liquors—Deer Tail Wine, Deer Antler Wine, and Deer Penis Wine.

  They spoke animatedly, while Draven listened with focused interest.

  Especially when Dorian began describing the brewing methods—Draven's eyes lit up.

  Sure enough, upon inquiry, the three brothers knew the exact recipes and procedures. However, to produce wine with real physical enhancement effects, they'd need to use magical-grade stags as ingredients.

  As soon as those words left their mouths, Martha's expression changed.

  Under the table, she began kicking her brothers furiously—over and over—wishing she could boot them straight back into the cellar.

  The werewolf chieftain had almost collapsed the wine rack earlier. If he drank Deer Tail Wine, Deer Antler Wine, or Deer Penis Wine, he might bring the whole house down!

  Her face turned redder and redder, and her kicks grew more forceful, until she finally managed to drive her three brothers out of the room.

  But what use was that?

  Draven had already memorized the brewing methods by heart. He even gave Martha a smug, knowing smirk.

  In his mind, he was already planning the next order: from now on, any magical deer hunted in the village—be it just a single horn or hoof—must not be wasted.