Moreau was a chieftain-level Tauren, so coming to a Public House run by his own kin for a drink should've been the most normal thing in the world.

  But in truth, he'd already been blacklisted by several other Public Houses. His reputation was utterly rotten.

  Many of the Public House owners couldn't stand how he harassed female beastkin—especially the girls working in the bars.

  In Selene City, beastkin loved going to Public Houses. Aside from drinking, another big reason was to admire the girls. Who would want to see a brutish, pig-faced old bull constantly pawing at the staff?

  But Moreau never thought he was in the wrong. He believed his presence alone was doing the place a favor. Not welcome? Then he'd show up just to spite them!

  It's not like Tauren-run Public Houses were in short supply. If he wanted a drink, he'd find a place.

  Yet again turned away at the door of a succubus-run Public House, Moreau cursed under his breath and stormed into a Tauren establishment, shoving open the door with a scowl.

  After Torvald left, Aureon had taken over as the Tauren representative in the city—and that included the Public Houses. Life had gotten a lot harder for Moreau since then.

  Back when Torvald was still around, all he had to do was send the battered beastkin girls he'd abused into the Public Houses and trade them for a few magic cores. It was way easier than risking his life hunting outside the city.

  But that brat Aureon? Nothing like Torvald. Didn't even accept women!

  Seething, Moreau slammed himself into a seat and ordered the cheapest bloodwine. He chugged half the cup in one go, not even bothering to wipe his mouth. He was already halfway drunk, his head hot and eyes bloodshot.

  Sure, he was a chieftain—but not because of any real skill or power.

  Over the years, he'd clawed his way up using dirty tricks—women, threats, lies. That's how he'd scraped together enough magic cores to barely level up.

  His body was already hollowed out by drink and debauchery. And now with Aureon in charge, his biggest source of income had been cut off completely.

  No matter how much he looked down on Aureon, Moreau knew he couldn't afford to cross him. The more he thought about it, the more suffocated he felt—so he just kept drinking.

  That's when Moreau's eyes suddenly lit up.

  Three figures had just entered the Public House: a wolfkin in a black cloak and mask, flanked by two young, beautiful women.

  The younger one, a catgirl, still looked so innocent and fresh-faced. Just looking at her made his hands itch.

  Moreau squinted at the bar—Aureon wasn't there. A filthy grin slowly spread across his face.

  He staggered to his feet and stumbled toward them, muttering a few words. The moment he finished speaking, his hand reached for the catgirl's shoulder. Girls this young were always easier to break in.

  Even if the Public House wouldn't accept her, she'd make a fine plaything for himself.

  His grimy, calloused hand was just about to make contact when the black-cloaked wolfkin suddenly stood and blocked his path.

  Draven caught Moreau's hand mid-air, a flicker of open disgust flashing in his eyes.

  So this was Moreau—the infamous Tauren scumbag of the slums, notorious for preying on women. Who didn't frown at the mention of his name?

  He'd only come here for a fishing mission, but ended up hooking something this repulsive.

  Feigning respect for Moreau's rank, Draven casually shifted his arm as if the Tauren had simply lost his balance, redirecting the hand harmlessly to the side.

  "They're with me. We're leaving," he said, and moved to escort the girls out. Few below the highest-ranking chieftains would have noticed his subtle maneuver.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The lighting in the Public House was dim. As Draven passed by Moreau, a puff of pink powder silently drifted into the Tauren's nostrils.

  Moreau sniffed hard, wrinkling his nose. The greed in his eyes intensified.

  With a furious roar, he smashed his horned mug and sprang to his feet, lunging again toward the catgirl.

  Liliana played along perfectly, stepping back with a frightened expression.

  Draven once more stepped between them and demanded coldly,"What do you think you're doing?"

  His voice wasn't loud, but the suppressed fury in it was unmistakable.

  But in Moreau's bloodshot bull eyes, the scene looked downright hilarious."What do I think I'm doing? I want her, obviously!"

  A few drunken onlookers who'd just been watching in amusement froze—then broke into raucous laughter.

  Viola and Liliana clung to Draven, feigning panic and fear as best they could.

  Draven stood where he was, his gaze quickly scanning the room as if searching for someone. He looked angry, but behind the mask, his eyes glinted with unease.

  "See that? The kid's looking for backup!" a lizardman leaning against a pillar called out with a mocking grin, clearly enjoying the show.

  "Does he even know where he is?"

  Jeers rang out one after another, and the beastkin inside the Public House seemed to have found their evening entertainment. They all began to laugh at the black-furred werewolf.

  Moreau licked his cracked lips, revealing yellowed teeth, and stretched his mouth into a grin that looked ready to bite. He stared at the two girls—the fox and the catgirl—his eyes burning with undisguised lust.

  "You Tauren just gonna stand there and watch? No one's gonna step in?"

  The black werewolf spoke, his voice tinged with urgency. He turned toward the Tauren behind the counter, clearly hoping someone would intervene.

  But the Tauren there either kept polishing mugs with heads down or stared intently at cobwebs in the corners, as if they hadn't heard a word of his plea.

  The laughter in the Public House grew louder. Some were doubled over, slapping tables and ridiculing him for being so na?ve.

  Moreau, as if fueled by the laughter, only grew more arrogant. He licked his lips again and slowly stepped forward, closing the distance.

  Then, in the very next instant, the entire Public House fell silent. The laughter stopped dead.

  All eyes widened as they watched Moreau's entire body get hoisted high into the air by a blood-red spear. Blood dripped from his chest—but not a single drop touched the floor.

  It was a Spear of Slaughter, its rune-etched tip still faintly glowing with magical light. Every drunken smirk in the room froze.

  No one had imagined that the arrogant, lecherous Moreau—who had just tried to lay hands on a girl—would be so effortlessly skewered by the black-furred werewolf and hung up like a trophy.

  The air turned heavy and oppressive. Someone had already begun to quietly edge toward the door, moving like a cautious rat.

  But most hadn't even processed the shock yet. Draven stood there, expressionless, holding the spear with one hand as if presenting a kill.

  Moreau's body trembled slightly on the shaft as blood continued to pour.

  The room instantly erupted into chaos. The drunks sobered up in a flash and bolted for the exit in a panic.

  With a flick of his wrist, Draven flung Moreau's corpse off the spear. It crashed onto the bar, sending up a spray of blood and spilled wine.

  The Tauren behind the counter could no longer pretend nothing had happened. Their faces turned pale as they straightened up—but none dared to speak.

  Because they could all clearly sense the powerful aura radiating from the black-furred werewolf: a high-tier chieftain's magical pressure.

  He wasn't here to drink—he was here to make a statement.

  The Tauren exchanged glances, a cold sweat breaking out. The strongest among them was only a low-tier chieftain.

  For a Public House in Selene City under Tauren control, that was considered decent protection. But in this moment, it was nowhere near enough.

  In the heavy silence, Draven slowly reached up and removed his mask, revealing a handsome face with a sly smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

  "Now then," he said softly, yet the danger in his voice was unmistakable.

  "Are you still not going to step in?"

  The Tauren looked miserable and turned to the one with the highest rank among them—a low-tier chieftain. The man opened his mouth but couldn't utter a word.

  Just then, the catgirl's figure swayed—and in the blink of an eye, she transformed completely.

  Her neat short hair had been tousled by her own hands into a mess. She'd torn her clothes in several places, revealing red marks on her skin. The fox girl was helping splash bloodwine onto her outfit to create the look of someone who'd just been manhandled.

  It was a setup. These two were here to scam them!

  The low-tier chieftain's mouth went dry. He wanted to curse—but didn't even dare to breathe too loudly.

  In full view of everyone, the now-dirty little catgirl"Liliana" suddenly plopped down on the floor, looked up with her teary eyes, pouted, and burst out crying:

  "Someone tried to hurt me!"

  Draven turned and glanced at her, then chuckled. He raised a thumb in approval.

  Liliana gave him a sweet smile and chirped,"You promised! I get half of this Public House!"

  She even made sure to remind him—just in case Draven tried to go back on his word.

  "Relax," Draven waved a hand lazily, then cast a pointed look at the Tauren behind the counter. The message was clear: you can leave now.

  And they understood perfectly—Draven had come to take over the place.

  Liliana was the lynchpin of the whole plan.

  Once the crowd had mostly dispersed, Draven strolled around to the kitchen.

  He picked out the finest jar of bloodwine, pulled a chair over from the wall, and sat down like a mercenary who'd just finished a job. He took a leisurely sip.

  Moments later, three high-tier chieftain auras exploded within the Public House.

  Outside, the streets of Selene City erupted into chaos.