Green Serpent was by no means a weakling. He had just been promoted to mid-tier chieftain after the last sacrificial ceremony, and had been newly gifted a bloodline weapon by that lord.

  Even if White Serpent didn't use her guardian beast, she wasn't confident she could kill him.

  What's more, Elder Black Serpent had brought along his powerful companion beast, making the situation even more complicated.

  White Serpent's face turned pale, her skin now ghostly white and bloodless.

  Her mind was filled with doubt: How could Black Serpent, someone powerful enough to fight Chief Red Serpent to a standstill, end up with nothing but a severed head?

  It simply didn't make sense.

  Normally calm and composed, White Serpent couldn't hide the panic within her this time. She whispered, "Should we inform that lord?"

  "Fool!" Red Serpent suddenly bellowed, his voice filled with fury and disappointment.

  His eyes turned blood-red, like flames of rage blazing within them—utterly chilling.

  White Serpent instinctively stepped back, then immediately realized her mistake. Yes, she had been foolish.

  That lord was at a critical moment in his breakthrough, just one step away from ascension, only lacking a final bit of power.

  And that final power could only be drawn from a large quantity of high-grade blood nourishment.

  The purpose of Black Serpent and Green Serpent's mission to the Black Flag Territory was precisely to capture the Black Wolf Chieftain and his companion beast, as well as that Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent—to provide sufficient blood nourishment for that lord.

  But things hadn't gone according to plan. What should've been a simple task had turned into a disaster.

  Now, if she went to disturb that lord, she might very well end up as a sacrificial offering herself.

  Before that lord, wasn't everyone just a piece of blood nourishment?

  "Count the warriors. At dawn tomorrow, we attack the Black Flag Territory!"

  Red Serpent's voice was hoarse but firm. Though his heart still burned with rage, he made a swift decision.

  He would not sit idly by and let this failure go unanswered. He must strike back immediately.

  White Serpent nodded and walked out to summon the guards and deliver the orders.

  Soon, the serpent-kin village hidden behind the towering city walls began to stir, with warriors rushing to make preparations for battle.

  White Serpent took a deep breath and returned to her chambers. She slowly opened the door and took off her outer robe.

  She knew that the chieftain's current state was unstable, his emotions on edge, and needed her to calm him.

  If not dealt with soon, Red Serpent might lose control—and things would only get worse.

  In the hall, Red Serpent's eyes still glowed blood-red, clearly in great pain and torment.

  It wasn't until White Serpent's graceful figure appeared before him that his gaze softened slightly. He pulled her into his arms, and the two collapsed to the floor, bodies tightly entwined.

  Beside them, the lifeless eyes of Black Serpent remained forever open.

  ...

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

  Meanwhile, in an underground chamber, Draven slowly opened his eyes. The scent of bloodwine still hung thick in the air, though the energy within the liquid had already been fully consumed.

  He stood up, his body soaked in sticky bloodwine, yet he didn't care in the slightest. Now, his body surged with power—he had advanced to mid-tier chieftain.

  Though it was a relatively small rank advancement, the increase in power was undeniably significant.

  Draven smiled with satisfaction. Then, his body slowly began to rise—he floated out of the wine vat.

  Had anyone witnessed this scene, they would've been utterly shocked.

  Because aside from certain special races or flying demonic beasts like the Nightmare Horse, no demi-human possessed the ability to fly.

  Flight was a privilege reserved only for those who had reached the lord stage.

  But Draven could not fly—his power hadn't yet reached that level.

  However, he had a Nightmare Horse at his side, a highly unusual magical beast capable of flight.

  The Nightmare Horse's lifeform differed greatly from most living creatures.

  Though its size and silhouette closely resembled an ordinary horse, its nature was far from ordinary.

  The Nightmare Horse had no heartbeat and no blood circulating within its body. It sustained its existence by absorbing a kind of deathly aura invisible to the naked eye.

  This aura filled vast battlefields and burial grounds—places where Nightmare Horses were born.

  Though they seemingly belonged to the forces of evil, Nightmare Horses curiously lacked any active offensive ability. They were pitch black from head to hoof, radiating a heavy aura of death and silence, as if they didn't belong to the world of the living at all.

  But once they took to the sky, a strange transformation occurred.

  The Nightmare Horse's four hooves suddenly ignited with black flames—dense, eerie, and unnatural.

  It was these black flames that gave the Nightmare Horses their ability to fly, allowing them to travel thousands of miles in a single day with astonishing speed.

  This ability made them highly coveted mounts among all races.

  Draven revealed his ruthlessness in the brutal scramble.

  He killed two members of the succubus race, forcefully forged a contract, and seized a Nightmare Horse.

  Through this, he obtained a new skill: Phantom Glide.

  Though this skill couldn't compare to the Nightmare Horse's long-distance flight, it allowed Draven to move quickly across short distances.

  This "flight" resembled more of a drifting or hovering, maintained by the power of his own bloodline.

  He estimated that, with his current mid-tier chieftain strength, he could sustain the floating state for up to fifteen minutes—assuming no intense combat was involved.

  If Phantom Glide was used during battle, the duration would be significantly shortened.

  In essence, the skill was not yet suitable for long-distance travel or surprise raids, but it served as a secret weapon—perfect for delivering a sudden, fatal blow while catching the enemy off guard.

  In addition, although Draven had severed his contract with Liliana, the Treant Awakening skill he gained from her still remained.

  That was an unexpected bonus.

  Treants were enormous, slow, and easy to spot, so Draven didn't send them to retreat with Viola and the others.

  Instead, he positioned five treants deep within the forest in front of the village, instructing them to remain hidden until he gave the command.

  Draven emerged from the basement and used the contract link to contact the Ghost-faced Owl for intelligence regarding the serpentkin's invasion.

  But no news came. He thought to himself, Could I have scared them off?

  He sincerely hoped they wouldn't come. He ordered the Ghost-faced Owl to continue its surveillance—he had other matters to attend to.

  Suddenly, the Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent opened its mouth and spat out a green serpent.

  The green serpent was soaking wet, covered in sticky mucus, and looked utterly revolting. Draven stepped forward and kicked the green serpent several times without mercy.

  The green serpent slowly regained consciousness, its vision blurry. Reaching up to touch its face, it found itself slick with mucus.

  A faint stench of blood and rot tickled the tip of its nose.

  Shivering, the green serpent asked, "What did you do to me?"

  His fear was understandable. Draven had just crawled out of a wine urn, drenched in blood-red wine, radiating an aura like that of a descending god or demon.

  Facing the green serpent, Draven didn't waste a word. He turned his palm, resting his long axe against the serpent's throat.

  "Submit—or die."

  The green serpent's heart shuddered, and scenes from the night flashed before his mind like fragments from a nightmare.

  He knew that falling into Draven's hands meant he had lost all freedom—now he could only obey.

  "Black Serpent, he...?" the green serpent started, but the cold, merciless expression on Draven's face said everything.

  Despair overtook him. He closed his eyes, and the power of his bloodline slowly gathered at his forehead. Soon, a small blood-red serpent-shaped mark appeared.

  The tiny serpent shimmered faintly, oddly vibrant and alive.

  Draven extended a finger, condensing his own bloodline power into a small glowing orb. With a light touch, the orb merged into the green serpent's forehead.

  The serpent mark gradually faded, and the green serpent collapsed to the ground, his face deathly pale.

  This was the Mark of Submission—a binding far more terrifying than a slave contract. Legend says it was created by the gods to halt endless killing among the demi-human races.

  But in reality, many demi-humans lived lives worse than death under this mark.

  The Mark of Submission was overwhelmingly dominant, stripping away nearly all free will from its bearer.