In the early morning, the rain was still falling, as if it had never stopped since the night before. The steady drip-drip created a world shrouded in mist and water.

  Last night, Draven had discussed the promotion plans with them. After a simple breakfast, he donned his raincoat and headed toward the wine cellar with Martha.

  Even with the help of the Stinger Bee Honey infusion, Martha might not be able to break through on her own.

  But Draven had already made up his mind—if Martha succeeded in her advancement, he would pass the Ant Queen over to her.

  To Martha, the chance to become a Lord-tier warrior was a stroke of incredible fortune. She had never even dreamed of awakening her bloodline naturally—such a thing was nothing short of a fantasy.

  Before meeting Draven, she didn't even know what"natural bloodline awakening" meant.

  But now, with everyone treating her as true family—open about their pasts and willing to share secrets—what reason did she have to hesitate?

  She had long since made up her mind. Reaching the Lord-tier had always been her dream.

  The distant goals once held by her and her brother, seemingly unreachable, were now becoming clearer each day. Staying by Draven's side, Martha felt only gratitude—never doubt.

  ...

  The wine cellar was the most heavily guarded place in the entire Village No. 2.

  Its entrance was under constant watch, with patrols personally arranged by Titus. No one could enter without Draven's permission.

  When they reached the door, Draven asked Martha to wait a moment, then stepped inside alone.

  The air inside carried the fragrance of aged wine. Draven had barely taken a few steps when he heard an odd gurgling sound.

  He smiled and looked up—sure enough, two small blood-red octopuses slid out from the wine jars.

  They floated midair, their tentacles slowly waving, as if swimming through water. Normally, upon seeing Draven, they would have rushed toward him excitedly, pestering him for a new story.

  But today was different. They circled him twice, then suddenly stopped in unison.

  "There's a scent of divine blood!"

  "No—it's divine grace! The aura of the Beast God!"

  Their voices rose in pitch, as if they had just discovered something astonishing.

  Draven blinked, then quickly understood. He took out a small piece of golden-yellow finger bone from his storage bracelet.

  He had kept this particular piece for the express purpose of showing it to these two strange little octopuses.

  The creatures floated closer immediately, extending their red tentacles to cautiously touch the bone.

  After a few seconds, their excitement seemed to fade.

  "Low-tier divine grace. The divinity has already leaked out. It's useless now."

  Hearing that, Draven actually felt a bit relieved.

  So, Serpent Ancestor really hadn't held anything back—the divine power within the finger bone had already been nearly depleted. He hadn't expected it to be of much use anyway.

  Still, it piqued his curiosity about divine blessings and divinity.

  The two octopuses began chattering nonstop, like excitable children fighting to speak first, explaining in a jumble of overlapping sentences.

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  After a confusing but just-about-coherent explanation, Draven finally understood.

  "Divine grace" referred to the divine blood granted by a deity to their followers, along with the energy it contained. However, not everyone could withstand truly pure divine blood.

  Followers with insufficient rank could only receive diluted, weakened divine blood—this was known as"low-tier divine grace."

  "Divinity," on the other hand, was the core power of divine blood.

  Only when a being successfully digested divine blood could they gain divinity of their own. This wasn't just a matter of power—it was a transformation on the level of universal laws.

  Ever since the day the baby octopuses hatched, they had shown almost no noticeable change. They spent all day soaking lazily in alcohol, with barely any increase in the energy within their bodies. At first, Draven thought he must have done something wrong in feeding them.

  But whenever he asked them why, the two little octopuses would always give the same answer:"The alcohol's not good enough! Too low-grade!"

  Draven could only give a wry smile. He felt like he was babysitting for the Beast God, yet didn't even have the means to properly feed the children. It was awkward, to say the least.

  Strangely enough, though, the baby octopuses didn't seem to care much about advancing their own cultivation. As long as they had alcohol to drink, that seemed to be enough for them.

  Draven could never quite figure out the structure of their lifeforms, but that didn't stop him from taking care of them seriously. Even if he didn't understand the principles behind it, he still did his best.

  In one of his letters to Sylvia, he made a special note, asking the Elven Princess to help gather some higher-energy brewing recipes.

  Thanks to the short-horned demon bulls, the Black Flag Territory could now brew small batches of mid-grade Bloodwine.

  The problem was, these two little creatures were picky about quality and greedy about quantity. Meeting the quality standard didn't mean they were satisfied.

  After playing with them for a while, Draven clapped his hands, signaling them to return to the wine jar. Only when the two octopuses slid quietly back into the liquor did he turn to open the door and call Martha in.

  Though curious about the occasional noises in the cellar, Martha was smart enough not to ask questions.

  She knew how important today was for her—reaching the Leader Rank was the only thing that mattered now.

  Draven led her to the center of the wine cellar, to a patch of cleared ground, and they both sat down. He retrieved a jar of mid-grade Bloodwine from the corner, and with a flick of his hand, a mid-tier magic core appeared in his palm. It was a trophy from the bottom of the rift.

  Alongside the two swarms he had fought there, Draven had gained quite a few valuable items. Those magic bugs had reproduced for countless generations in the rift, and many had died naturally.

  Although most of the magic cores had been absorbed by the bugs themselves, a few intact ones remained.

  Now, all those reserves belonged to Draven.

  Magic cores were strategic resources—rare no matter the faction. Draven usually wouldn't use a single one, storing them as a foundation for the Black Flag Territory.

  But today, he wasn't holding back. Martha deserved this opportunity.

  This was a low-grade, mid-tier magic core from a Gold-Devouring Demon Ant, with pure energy. Combined with the stimulating effect of mid-grade Bloodwine, it was more than enough to help Martha break through.

  Martha sat down, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and drank a few mouthfuls of Bloodwine. Then she placed the magic core in her palm, and her internal energy began to flow slowly.

  Draven sat opposite her, saying nothing, simply watching her reactions quietly.

  ...

  Meanwhile, deep within the rift, the situation was very different.

  The Serpent Ancestor had spent the entire night dragging his nearly torn-apart serpentine body, burying the petrified remains one by one into the earth.

  He didn't show any outward emotion. He just worked in silence, as though this was the only farewell he could offer to his fallen comrades.

  After all, they had once fought for the same cause.

  Even though ten thousand years had passed since that catastrophe, the Serpent Ancestor still hoped he could do something.

  When he was done, he shook off the mud and blood from his body, then slowly crawled toward the cave left behind by his master.

  The golden skeleton lay neatly inside. The Serpent Ancestor looked at it, a rare trace of sorrow appearing in his serpent eyes.

  Of course, he knew exactly where this skeleton came from. It bore the remnants of the Ghost Serpent's traits—it was one of his own kind.

  Long ago, before he fused with the Ghost Serpent, he too had a humanoid form: two heads, four arms. A vanguard species created personally by the Beast God.

  At the beginning of the Divine War, his original body had already vanished from the battlefield. This skeleton had belonged to a fellow warrior—one even stronger than him—who had perished in that great calamity.

  The corpse was incomplete, with not even a single head remaining. The Serpent Ancestor could hardly imagine how brutal that war must have been.

  And now, the servants of the Evil God had once again returned to this world. He could no longer retreat.

  "Lord Beast God, this time, I won't let you down."

  With that, he slowly lowered his head and swallowed the golden remains whole.

  In the next second, his face began to twist—not in fear, but in pain. Agonizing pain.

  His massive body thrashed violently within the cave, slamming against the walls. Serpent scales cracked, muscles swelled, bones spasmed—his wails echoed endlessly in the hollow chamber.