"Such a pity, just a little bit more," the snake-headed humanoid monster murmured hoarsely, his tone tinged with a trace of reluctance and regret.

  He looked down at Selene from above, his vertical pupils flickering with strange emotions—part admiration, part calculation, as if weighing the next method of hunting.

  "Who are you?" Selene's voice was cold, her expression icy. She despised the creature's very existence but knew better than to underestimate him. Her gaze fixed steadily on him, unmoving, like a cat watching a poisonous snake.

  "It's been a long time since I've seen such a pure succubus. Truly nostalgic," the snake-headed being didn't answer her question but instead slowly let his eyes drift toward her chest.

  The wound in her chest, where she had been stabbed earlier, had already healed. Not a drop of blood remained, only the shattered remnants of her torn clothing barely concealing her snow-white contours.

  But that was no shame—within succubus culture, exposure was never a weakness.

  Yet the monster's gaze carried greed and lust, an unashamed, nauseating stare. Selene frowned slightly; her aura shifted abruptly, a chill radiating from her like creeping frost.

  "You like looking, don't you?" she said coldly.

  In the next instant, her figure blurred, dissolving into a swirl of black mist. With a soft snap, four figures split from her body.

  "Phantom Doppelgangers."

  In midair, four Selene duplicates appeared in the center of the battlefield, identical down to the torn clothing and bloodstains. They were like reflections in a mirror, but each radiated murderous intent, wielding long whips and encircling the snake creature.

  The snake creature licked the corner of his scaly mouth but didn't attack immediately. He didn't seem afraid of being surrounded. Instead, he slightly tilted his head back to look at the sky, as if enjoying a performance.

  "This is more interesting. I'm eager to see your reactions," the snake-headed humanoid said, his voice low and hoarse, like stone scraping iron.

  However, just as the four Selenes launched their assault, a sudden scream ripped through the silence, shattering the brief calm with agonizing pain.

  No one turned their head immediately—both Selene and the snake-headed creature knew that at such a moment, any distraction could mean death. But the meaning behind that scream was unmistakable; everyone knew what had happened beneath the battlefield.

  Draven lay sprawled in the mud, covered in blood, yet a smile played on his lips. He gripped the bloodstained spear, its tip piercing through the throat of Red Serpent, pinning the foe firmly to the ground.

  Red Serpent's eyes were wide with disbelief and unwillingness. It was Draven, despite his injuries, who had seized the moment and unexpectedly killed the snake leader, trapped by Selene's magic!

  But he had no time to think further. Blood poured from his mouth as his body convulsed and then fell silent.

  Draven gritted his teeth and forced himself to wrest the ring and blood spear from Red Serpent's grasp. He knew his time and strength were running out.

  His body felt hollowed out, every movement a struggle against death. He panted heavily, leaning on a treant who had just arrived, his whole form like a puddle of mud.

  "Don't make a sound," he whispered, as if afraid to disturb the battle hanging in the air. His gaze pierced through the blood mist and smoke, settling on the far riverbank.

  Where once a large gathering of snake warriors stood, now there was nothing. The Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent crouched quietly on the ground amid scattered limbs and entrails—a massacre just concluded.

  It seemed sated, coldly watching the battlefield's center without further pursuit.

  Draven frowned. He knew clearly the biggest problem was no longer Red Serpent but the suddenly appeared monster—the Serpent Ancestor.

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  "If this guy had the power to intervene all along, why wait until Red Serpent died to make a move?"

  He couldn't understand. Yet he sensed faintly there was a deeper truth behind this battle—something unknown to him. In fact, the seed of all this had been sown hours ago.

  The White Serpent had not obeyed Red Serpent's order to leave the tribe. Though indifferent to the tribe, her feelings for Red Serpent were real. She understood his worries and knew the pressure the snake tribe faced.

  So she ventured alone to the cave where the Serpent Ancestor slumbered.

  She knelt before the stone door, begging the Serpent Ancestor to rise and save Red Serpent's life. But what she didn't expect was that the Serpent Ancestor, hearing they had not only failed to capture the target but also lost two, flew into a rage.

  "Worthless." The Serpent Ancestor's eyes opened in the darkness—pupils devoid of any emotion.

  The White Serpent tried to flee, but it was too late. An intense cold energy instantly enveloped the entire cave. She and her bonded beast didn't even scream before their magic and flesh were drained dry, leaving only two empty shells.

  The Serpent Ancestor devoured their power completely. His body underwent a terrifying transformation. His wounds healed; his strength surged, restoring him to a lord-level being. He could finally move freely, no longer confined deep underground.

  It was then he sensed the battle unfolding by the great river. He cared nothing whether Red Serpent lived or died. What mattered was that a succubus lord was there.

  If he could drain her dry, he might ascend to an even higher level, or even fully evolve.

  So he came—without hesitation—launching a surprise attack on Selene, utterly indifferent to Red Serpent's fate.

  Although Selene nearly dodged that deadly strike, she still couldn't completely avoid it.

  That snake-headed, humanoid creature had been tempered by countless years and regarded Selene as nothing more than a child.

  To him, the strength Selene displayed when she launched a surprise attack was greatly diminished, but that didn't mean she had no chance to win.

  This serpent's power no longer satisfied his ambitions. The meager support from the snake tribe was far from enough to match his ambitions.

  Willing to risk everything for a slim chance of survival, he was ready to pay any price.

  At this moment, Draven was barely able to sit upright on the treant's thick shoulder. He held a bottle of blood wine in one hand and a flask of monkey liquor in the other, sipping slowly while trying to recover from his injuries and absorb the lingering power within his bloodline.

  Run? He no longer wanted to run away. If Selene won, there was no need to flee; if she lost, running would be useless. For him, there was only one choice left — to wait.

  The battle in mid-air felt distant to him, almost like a dream. The clash between two Lords — he could only vaguely see the opposing figures flickering in and out of sight.

  According to what the Green Serpent said, the Serpent Ancestor had only just regained Lord-level power and had not held this rank for long, while Selene was already a renowned and powerful figure for many years.

  Logically, Selene's chances should be greater. But Draven did not know that Selene was fighting an extremely difficult battle. Her opponent was far stronger than she had imagined — though also an early-stage Lord, he was experienced and cunning beyond measure.

  Selene's proud Phantom Clones, which should have suppressed the enemy, were broken one by one by the opponent's strange methods, with even two clones being destroyed in quick succession.

  Combined with the heavy wounds from the earlier ambush, Selene's offensive power gradually waned, leaving her struggling.

  In fact, the Serpent Ancestor's situation was similar to Selene's. He was far less powerful than he appeared.

  As Draven suspected, the time since he regained his strength was too short to withstand prolonged combat. Selene's demonic agility and continuous interference from her clones made the Serpent Ancestor anxious as well.

  They seemed trapped in invisible ropes, mutually restraining each other, neither daring to relax.

  This kind of fight, if faced against the weak-willed or cowardly, the Serpent Ancestor would have hundreds of ways to shake their mental defenses and crush them in one strike.

  But Selene was not that kind of person. She was a strong leader who could guide her people through adversity and carve out a new path.

  Finally, Selene summoned the last of her clones, lashing her whip fiercely against the shattered armor of the Serpent Ancestor, producing a sharp crack. Only then did Draven clearly see the battle unfolding in mid-air.

  Selene's face was fierce with killing intent; black leathery wings suddenly spread, her aura chaotic as she hovered above. The snake-headed Serpent Ancestor, however, began to fragment amidst the blood mist, scattering like burning flames.

  Victory? A burst of joy rose in Draven's heart — if Selene won, his situation here would stabilize.

  But just as he was secretly celebrating and considering how to seize more advantage, suddenly a vicious snake head lunged out from the blood mist!

  Even Selene couldn't react in time; the snake head emitted a sharp, shrill hiss as it flew toward the riverbank. Draven's heart tightened, and he was suddenly filled with dread.

  It seemed to be coming straight for him! Though his body had somewhat recovered, he was absolutely no match for a Lord-level opponent.

  Fortunately, the snake head didn't attack him, but instead crashed onto the corpse of the Red Serpent on the ground, ignoring Draven completely.

  "Trash!" the snake head sneered, "Did you really expect to grow stronger?"

  Draven stared in shock as the dead snake leader Red Snake twisted and slowly stood up from the ground.

  The once deformed head had transformed into a fierce snake head, full of menace.

  "No clones left — let's see what you can use to block me now!"

  Red Snake completely ignored the weak and powerless Draven sitting on the treant's shoulder.

  Raising his head with a cold sneer, he lunged once again at Selene, reigniting the battle.

  Selene, danger approaches.