What exactly happened that night—only the involved werewolves and the giant bear knew.

  The only clue left behind was the embarrassed and annoyed expression on Liliana's face, along with her muttered curses as she walked away, calling someone a big pervert.

  Still, the expedition team seemed harmonious overall. No one questioned anything, and no one dared to gossip.

  After entering the territory of the Leopard Tribe, the team split into two as planned.

  The Hyena Man chieftain led his tribe to follow Draven's group. Accompanying them were two silent, muscular demon bulls, and the foul-mouthed little druid girl, who kept complaining to no avail—no one paid her any attention.

  Draven had already read the letter brought by the icehawk.

  It was from Sylvia. In it, she mentioned the current state of the Elven Kingdom, with a tone tinged with worry. She was clearly uneasy about what was to come.

  Draven could see her anxiety, but he had no immediate advice to offer.

  The letter also mentioned a blood elf demigod named Ronan. The name sounded vaguely familiar to Draven, but no matter how he tried, he couldn't remember where he had heard it—perhaps too exhausted from the night before.

  In his reply, he offered a few brief words of comfort and updated her on Black Flag Territory's development. He promised that once he ascended to the rank of lord, he would personally come to bring her back to safety.

  This time, he didn't even have a chance to add any flirtatious lines. As soon as he finished the main body of the letter, Liliana snatched it from his hands.

  She wrote something mysterious at the end of the letter, then stuffed it straight into the message tube on the icehawk's leg without letting Draven see it.

  Still, Draven wasn't too worried about what she might've written—he wasn't the only one who had made a fool of themselves.

  What did bother him slightly was the strange look in the icehawk's eyes.

  Now a mid-tier advanced magical beast, could she really understand the contents of the letters?

  Draven rubbed his chin, starting to regret not sending her out of the cave earlier. At the very least, he should've charged an entry fee for watching the show.

  Now he rode atop his Nightmare Horse, glancing at the still-grumbling Liliana. Beside him, the troll Ade held high the banner with the wolf's head and horns.

  Their path led directly toward the Leopard Tribe's village.

  The other group—led by Green Serpent and Gregor—was reinforced by Bran and Titus's teams. After regrouping with the main forces, the troop had been bolstered by 300 newly joined serpent warriors, bringing their total to 400.

  Against a hunting party of just over a hundred leopardfolk, their numbers were overwhelming.

  Even more, they had the Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent with them and two mid-tier commander-level warriors anchoring the line.

  If they couldn't win with this setup, Black Flag Territory might as well disband.

  The Leopard Tribe was a matriarchal society.

  Its two commanders, Elira and Thalia, were a mother-daughter duo.

  Their people were known for their strength and agility, and most gained the ability to shift into leopardfolk after their first bloodline awakening.

  It was said that the mother and daughter's beast forms were terrifyingly powerful—near unbeatable among their kind.

  The high-ranking leader Elira stayed behind to defend the village, while the lower-ranking commander Thalia led the hunting party.

  Had they been given time and resources, the Leopard Tribe might have risen as a formidable power. Unfortunately, they would never get that chance.

  Thalia stood at the front of the hunting party.

  Facing the sudden blockade of serpent warriors, her eyes blazed with unhidden battle lust.

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  Even though Green Serpent was a tier above her, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease at the sight of this wild leopard-girl.

  She gripped her spear tightly, eyes as sharp as blades. Her minimal beast-hide attire revealed skin covered in scars and tribal markings—each one a testament to her strength.

  Faced with two hundred serpent warriors, she did not flinch. Instead, her lips curled into an excited smile.

  She immediately recognized Green Serpent at the front."You again."

  Her eyes dripped with disdain. Green Serpent had lost to her before, and that look infuriated him.

  As a longtime rival of their neighboring tribe, he held little fondness for the Leopardfolk—especially since Thalia had indeed defeated him once before.

  Even with the odds now in his favor, he still felt a pang of unease.

  But this time was different. He had ample troops and a solid battle plan.

  Just then, movement came from the other end of the canyon—Gregor and his serpent warriors emerged, sealing off the Leopardfolk's retreat.

  Thalia's hunting party was now fully surrounded in the narrow canyon.

  Sensing another powerful leader-level presence appear behind her, the confident expression on Thalia's face finally showed a trace of panic.

  That oppressive aura poured down her back like a bucket of ice water, triggering an instinctive urge to turn around.

  Unfortunately, she never even got the chance to move.

  In the very instant before she could react, a shadow flashed across the canyon above—so fast it was like a lightning bolt from the sky.

  The Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent descended from above, its massive jaws opening wide as it swooped down and swallowed the leopard girl whole before she could even turn.

  No struggle, no scream—just like that, in an instant, Thalia was gone.

  The serpent's body slammed into the ground and coiled upward in one smooth motion, perching steadily atop Gregor's head like a living crown.

  Gregor tilted his head slightly, rolling his eyes with helpless exasperation. Sitting atop his scaled warhorse, he lowered his gaze to the leopard warriors below—now completely stripped of any fighting spirit.

  There were no orders given, no commands shouted.

  The serpent warriors simply watched in silence, and no one among the leopardfolk dared to move a muscle.

  At the same time, Draven's group arrived outside the Leopard Tribe's village.

  Though they numbered only a few dozen, their presence alone caused a visible change in the expression of the leopard chieftain Elira, who stood atop the village wall.

  Her golden hair was tousled by the wind, and her sharp eyes were filled with vigilance and fear.

  Standing opposite her was the young black werewolf, mounted on a black Nightmare Horse. His gaze was calm, and there was the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

  Draven raised his hand slightly, and the group behind him came to an immediate halt.

  Sardon hesitated, then braced himself and stepped forward according to the plan—attempting to persuade surrender first.

  He had barely opened his mouth to offer a greeting when an arrow whistled down and embedded itself in the dirt right at his feet.

  "Get lost." Elira's voice was cold as she pulled back her longbow.

  She had no intention of listening to anything the Hyena Man had to say.

  Sardon's earlier failure had said it all—he was no longer qualified to speak for anyone.

  Her gaze locked directly onto Draven.

  "Black werewolf, the Leopard Tribe is not something you can bully at will. We are not some spineless Hyena trash."

  As soon as the words left her lips, she drew another arrow from her quiver and nocked it onto her bowstring, her eyes cold and sharp like a predator ready to strike.

  Sardon's face darkened at her words, but he didn't dare argue.

  He could only retreat in frustration, hiding in the crowd while grinding his teeth, glaring at her.

  Draven didn't respond immediately.

  He slowly urged his horse forward. Even facing a drawn longbow ready to fire at any moment, he didn't frown in the slightest.

  Looking up at Elira, his voice was steady and without emotion.

  "Elira, do you really think your strength is enough to stop us?"

  His voice wasn't loud, but it weighed down like a mountain.

  Hearing those words, Elira felt as if a stone had dropped in her chest.

  She wasn't stupid—she could clearly sense that this black werewolf was a leader-class being, his presence overwhelming and nearly unmatched.

  Still, she had no intention of backing down.

  As long as Thalia was still alive, as long as her daughter lived, the Leopard Tribe wasn't truly extinct.

  She clenched her jaw, eyes flashing with pain.

  She had to buy time—to let her daughter know that something had gone wrong in the village and she needed to escape immediately.

  Suddenly, she looked up and lit a pre-prepared signal flare with a spark of gunpowder.

  Thick black smoke rose swiftly, standing out starkly against the morning sky.

  It was the agreed-upon signal between her and Thalia.

  Once her daughter saw the smoke, she'd understand—it was time to retreat with the warriors.

  But Elira knew her daughter's temperament.

  She might just turn around and rush back to save her.

  Thinking of this, Elira took a deep breath, a trace of grim resolve flashing through her eyes.

  She would have to die—quickly and cleanly.

  Only then would her daughter give up and not throw her life away trying to save her.

  But the next moment, Draven spoke again—his tone still calm, but his words pierced her heart like a dagger.

  "Sending a signal?"

  "You think Thalia still has a chance to escape?"

  Elira's eyes widened instantly. Her hands trembled as she gripped her bow, her face going pale.

  She knew exactly what he meant.

  She wanted to argue, to curse him, but her tongue felt frozen in her mouth.

  She could shoot him—just let go of the string and the arrow would fly straight into his chest.

  But she couldn't do it.

  Deep down, she knew—his words weren't empty threats.

  A slow smile spread across Draven's face, his eyes gleaming with the light of victory.

  The rarer a race, the more they feared losing one of their own.

  Especially the next generation—their hope for survival.

  Sardon stood in the rear, watching as Elira slowly lowered her bow and dropped her head in despair.

  Only then did he finally show a trace of satisfaction—though his heart still held resentment.

  If the black werewolf had acted this decisively earlier, would so many of his Hyena warriors have died?