Draven naturally went straight to the lord's manor. The events of last night were still vivid in his mind. Not long after he returned to his lodging, a cat-person girl suddenly burst in, her expression frantic, as if something huge was about to happen.

  His heart tightened; he thought perhaps something had happened to Rurik outside.

  But the first words from the girl's mouth were: "Return the Holy Sword."

  Draven was completely blank. What Holy Sword? She looked so fierce, as if he had stolen a treasured heirloom from her ancestors.

  After exchanging a few words, the girl suddenly raised her hand, and a silver-white glow lit up her palm. Draven reflexively struck with a knife hand, chopping her neck and knocking her unconscious on the spot.

  He wasn't one to be careless with force, but at that moment, he truly panicked. Selene City forbade random violence—even self-defense could land someone in trouble. Standing inside his stone house, staring at the fallen girl, he thought, trouble had come.

  Thus began the scene Rurik witnessed later.

  With no other option, he tightly bound the girl with beast sinew, stuffed leather into her mouth to stop her screaming, and left her in the room.

  Though rough, it would buy him some time. He needed to find out who she was and why she suddenly came demanding a Holy Sword.

  That's why he left the house that morning without waiting for Rurik. He headed alone to the lord's manor, walking while pondering how to explain last night's events.

  By protocol, he should have asked the guards to announce his arrival and formally request an audience with the lord. But just as he reached the gate, he saw a new recruitment notice posted on the manor's outer wall:

  "Seeking fine-quality wines. Generous rewards. Personal tasting by the lord."

  Draven laughed aloud. Though Black Flag Territory was a frontier, its wines were excellent. His personally brewed blood wine and monkey wine—though not high-end—were distinct in flavor.

  He had tasted the so-called top-grade blood wine from the tavern last night; it was indeed potent, but tasted too fishy, far from pleasant. Compared to their wines brewed from baby octopus blood with a hint of sweetness and rich aroma, it was nowhere close.

  So on the spot, he tore down the notice and took out the wine samples he brought to report directly.

  He was received by Lydia, the lord's stewardess—a succubus lady dressed impeccably and wearing exquisite makeup.

  Seeing Draven, a hint of surprise flashed in her eyes. They'd met only a few days ago; she hadn't expected this scruffy young chief to dare tear down her recruitment notice.

  "You've got guts," she said flatly, taking the bottle and casually opening it.

  She hadn't expected much. Over the past few days, she had tasted dozens of so-called fine wines—mostly tasteless. One cat-person girl had brought elven grape wine that was decent and fragrant, but didn't suit Selene's palate.

  But when Lydia popped the cork, an unusual aroma immediately filled the air. Her nose was very sensitive; one gentle sniff told her this wine was extraordinary. She poured a bit into a delicate glass and took a sip—her eyes instantly lit up.

  This blood wine was better than she imagined—rich but not harsh, with a slightly salty aftertaste and hints of wild fruit. The monkey wine was sour with sweetness, with a long finish.

  Though she wasn't sure if Selene would like it, personally, Lydia thought both wines were fully qualified.

  "Wait here a moment. I'll report this," she said with a much softer tone and even a slight smile, as if transformed.

  Draven looked into her alluring eyes but felt nothing but a little sympathy for her recently deceased partner, Garruk.

  That once proud Garruk probably never imagined that just days after his death, Lydia would show no signs of mourning.

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  "Men in this city are just tools," Draven sighed inwardly.

  While waiting, Lydia casually remarked, "If you worked harder and raised your strength to a higher tier, maybe you'd qualify for a marriage alliance."

  Draven just smiled. Before coming, he had already used aura suppression to keep himself at the lower chief level—not because he feared being discovered as strong, but because he wanted to avoid unnecessary trouble.

  He had indeed considered using this opportunity to propose a marriage alliance with the succubi. Even if there was no true affection, it would at least be a political alliance.

  The succubi wielded great influence; such a relationship would ensure the safety and development of Black Flag Territory.

  But whenever he thought of the proud, graceful silhouette of Selene in his contract's aura, he felt uneasy.

  He was unwilling to settle or compromise. Since he had established a spiritual connection with her, he dismissed the idea altogether.

  Besides, after seeing Selene's figure, who could care for any other woman?

  They exchanged only a few words before footsteps sounded at the door. A maid dressed in black and white stepped in quietly and whispered, "Lady Selene wishes to personally receive the werewolf chief."

  Draven's eyes brightened, and his heart burned with excitement.

  Especially when the maid led him through the long corridor toward the lord's garden, Draven silently congratulated himself—this time, he was sure of success!

  Rich women were indeed attractive, but what truly made one's heart race were noblewomen of lordly status.

  Driven by such thoughts, the entire lord's garden seemed to be shrouded in a subtle atmosphere, the air tinged with hints of ambiguity and seduction.

  Selene was already waiting for her guest in the pavilion at the garden's center. Two bottles of wine sat beside her, and the moment Draven stepped in, she could tell at once where the wine came from.

  Both were specialties of the Black Flag Territory, of exceptional quality.

  At first, she had no intention of meeting him, thinking there was nothing to discuss. But curiosity eventually got the better of her—Selene wanted to know how this chief-level fellow had dared to step into her domain.

  Thus, their unexpected meeting began in the garden.

  When Draven saw the lord again, the awe and nervousness he once felt toward a superior had quietly vanished.

  What he saw was a woman different from the cold, severe figure of legend. Selene now lounged lazily against a pavilion pillar, her long hair falling loosely, a thin veil of gauzy fabric revealing and concealing in turn.

  Draven's gaze involuntarily lingered on her semi-transparent dress, even daring to peer inside.

  If key parts weren't cleverly covered, he might have lost control and nearly learned how to look the other way.

  Selene frowned slightly, displeased. The werewolf chief's eyes were far too bold, making her feel both embarrassed and irritated.

  She was about to scold him when suddenly a better idea came to mind. Just as Draven prepared to bow, Selene took a step forward herself.

  Before he could speak, she lightly turned away, fingers teasing the hem of her dress, then glanced back with a meaningfully sly smile.

  For a moment, Draven was stunned, but the next second, a foolish grin spread across his face as he followed her without hesitation.

  He vaguely sensed something was off, but now was no time to overthink.

  Just as he was about to reach out and touch her smiling figure, the ground gave way beneath him—he suddenly lost his balance.

  When he came to his senses, he realized he had fallen into the nearby pond. The icy water rippled around him, instantly sobering him up.

  From beside him came Selene's scornful laughter, as if mocking the clumsy werewolf.

  Draven clumsily climbed out of the pond, drenched and with an embarrassingly awkward expression. He knew at once: this had to be the succubus clan's unique charm magic.

  The magic was powerful indeed; even now he couldn't pinpoint when exactly he had been bewitched.

  At that moment, he fully understood just how far he was from being a true lord.

  Selene, meanwhile, remained composed, standing by the pavilion as if the whole scene had just been a casual joke to amuse herself.

  Draven suppressed his embarrassment, forced himself to clench his fist in salute, standing tall like a loyal subordinate.

  Selene's expression suddenly turned cold and sharp as she fixed her gaze on him, asking coolly, "Did you bring the wine?"

  Draven immediately regained his respectfulness, adjusted his posture, and answered politely, "Yes."

  Afterward, the two fell into a brief silence. Droplets of water dripped from Draven's body, but his mood grew heavier and heavier.

  Holding back his inner torment, Draven finally mustered the courage to speak of his plans.

  He told Selene that Black Flag Territory intended to sell their wines within her domain, hoping to expand their market.

  Unexpectedly, Selene only replied lightly, "You are too weak."

  As a lord of the initial rank, Selene could no longer sense the restrained aura Draven carried as a mid-level chief.

  To her, Draven was merely a low-level chief, and her words bore no malice.

  But to Draven, that sentence was like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing the last flicker of his hope.

  When he fell into the pond, he could still pass it off as a little joke from the lord, but now the words "you are too weak" pierced through all his pride.

  Indeed, he was just a chief-level, and even as a mid-level one, that was nothing. How dare he entertain thoughts about a lord? Such audacity was shocking.

  Cold sweat trickled down his forehead. He had to admit that after the battle with the serpent clan, he had become somewhat arrogant.

  Selene's remark snapped him back to reality in an instant. Draven inwardly congratulated himself, clenched his fist, saluted again, and prepared to leave quietly.

  But to his surprise, Selene had other plans!