The atmosphere in Selene City was chaotic and oppressive. Restlessness pulsed through every alley and street. But far from the bustling city center, in the quiet stillness of Village No. 2, Draven had just awakened in a small wooden cabin.

  He opened his eyes, still groggy, his mind not fully clear, when he felt someone stir lightly beside him.

  Turning his head, he saw a slender and noble figure nestled in his arms—Princess Sylvia of the elves. She was already awake, her bright eyes fixed intently on him.

  She had removed the mask she always wore, revealing the cold, regal beauty unique to the elven royal bloodline. Her cheeks still held the warmth of the night before, but her gaze was uncharacteristically soft.

  Draven froze. Though her face was not unfamiliar, seeing her like this stirred something complex inside him. His arm instinctively tightened around her.

  Sylvia frowned slightly. Her body was still sore and weak, not entirely comfortable. Her face flushed as fragments of the previous night flickered through her mind, leaving her too embarrassed to lift her head.

  She instinctively wanted to pull away, but instead, she leaned in a little closer.

  There were only the two of them in the bed. Where were the others? She cast a glance around the empty room, memories of last night surfacing in her mind.

  It had all begun with dinner the night before.

  Upon learning that Sylvia was leaving, Draven had taken it upon himself to cook. He said this meal wasn't just a farewell—it was a memory he wanted to leave her with.

  He rummaged through the Black Flag Tavern's warehouse for quite a while, supplementing the ingredients with rare herbs and vegetables he'd brought from the lord's manor kitchen, and crafted a fully vegetarian meal just for her.

  The table was laden with aromatic, colorful dishes: fairy tofu, roasted wild mushrooms, osmanthus cakes, and small porcelain bowls of herbal soup. Everything looked far too refined to have been made by a werewolf chieftain.

  Sylvia had been wary at first, but after the first bite, she fell silent. Elves placed great importance on the ceremonial nature of meals, yet this one made her see Draven in an entirely new light.

  In that moment, she realized that the roguish smile he always wore concealed layers she had never truly understood.

  After dinner, the maids cleared the table and left, and the cabin fell into quiet stillness. Candlelight flickered, and the air was filled with the faint scent of wine and herbs.

  Draven sat at the head of the table, holding a drowsy Liliana in his arms, but his heated gaze shifted between Viola, Sylvia, and Martha. He made no attempt to hide his desire—his stare was raw and direct.

  But before he could move, Viola stood up first. She whispered something to Draven, then pulled Liliana from his arms, exchanged a glance with Martha, and the three of them silently left the room.

  Before closing the door, Viola turned and gave Draven a look—her lips curled in a knowing smirk, as if giving him permission. She closed the door behind them and even locked it gently from the outside.

  That was the moment Draven grinned, flashing his sharp white teeth. He reached out and swept the stunned Sylvia into his arms. She gasped in surprise, her cheeks burning as her hands pressed helplessly against his chest.

  He kissed her—fierce and hot—like a beast who refused to restrain himself. Sylvia instinctively resisted, but without much force. Her fists pounded lightly on his chest, more symbolic than defiant.

  When she finally caught her breath and looked down, she realized her collar had been torn open. Flustered, she hurriedly tried to hold it closed, panic flashing in her eyes.

  Draven paused, confused by her reaction.

  Sylvia took a deep breath and slowly removed her mask. In a gentle voice, she said,"Draven, I want you to see the real me. Not the masked elven princess—but myself."

  Her voice was so soft it could melt steel.

  Draven stared, his gaze burning into her face. In that moment, something deep inside him was quietly stirred.

  They passed a sleepless night, but Sylvia looked more alive than ever. Resting against him with a faint smile, she radiated a peace and satisfaction that went deeper than words.

  Meanwhile, back in the lord's hall of Selene City, Selene also wore a smile—cold and laced with mockery.

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  Sitting upright on the lord's throne, fingers interlocked, her eyes were chilly as she listened to the uproar outside the square.

  It was the Frostwolf Clan gathering out there.

  Led by Wolf, they shouted loudly, demanding justice for Nick. Selene had expelled them from the hall, but they refused to leave, their anger burning.

  But the minotaurs, especially Torvald, had yet to show up.

  And that was exactly why Selene was smiling coldly.

  None of this was an accident. It was all part of her plan. She had allowed Wolf to cause a scene because she already knew—Torvald had retreated.

  The chaos of last night had spread. Gregor's rampage, the Frostwolves' fury, the minotaurs' silence—Selene had already pieced together the power struggle behind it all.

  And most importantly, Gregor wasn't here for her. His target was the southern succubus under Freya's command.

  Draven's true purpose in sending a clone had become increasingly clear. Selene had yet to receive reports from the southern front, but her suspicion toward Freya was growing.

  Now, things were getting more and more interesting. And in detaining Gregor, Selene wasn't just punishing him—she might even be protecting him.

  In Selene's eyes, a mere serpent lord of the chieftain level was hardly worth mentioning. Even if Draven himself were to appear in person, he might not be qualified to challenge Freya.

  She knew the secrets behind the southern succubus and understood that such mysteries were not for ordinary people to glimpse. Try to uncover Freya's hand? They simply weren't worthy.

  Just then, Lydia rushed in. She walked briskly from outside the great hall straight to the throne and practically shouted at Selene,"Freya is missing! I've already stationed people at her residence, waiting for her return."

  Her tone was both anxious and slightly triumphant, as though she had finally seized something to use against Freya and couldn't wait to report the good news.

  But she quickly added,"The southern succubus killed the minotaur Bronan and the frost werewolf Nick. We absolutely cannot let this slide!"

  Selene did not respond immediately. She simply turned her head slowly and glanced at her aunt, who was on the verge of laughing, her eyes brimming with schadenfreude.

  Selene nodded subtly and then beckoned her aunt closer, whispering a few words in a low voice that only the two of them could hear. Her aunt paused for a moment after listening, her expression growing complex.

  Standing to the side, Lydia furrowed her brow. Her always-exquisite face revealed a trace of disbelief."No way... Are you serious?"

  She had expected Selene to take this opportunity to curb Freya's arrogance—perhaps humiliate her in front of everyone at most. But Selene's recent instructions had clearly gone far beyond her expectations. The small sense of satisfaction in her heart quickly dissipated, replaced by a vague unease.

  Although she didn't like Freya and had always regarded that southern succubus with contempt, they were, after all, of the same kind. Lydia's steps grew heavy with visible worry as she walked out of the great hall.

  At that moment, however, Freya was no longer in her residence.

  After receiving Valeria's report, she had immediately taken the strange piece of bark and dismissed Valeria. Then, she paced back and forth in the room, her brow tightly furrowed. Several times she seemed about to call someone, only to suppress the impulse with effort.

  In the end, she finally made a decision and left the room alone.

  Given her status—a bona fide lord-class succubus—no one dared to question where she was going, and no one had the ability to tail her without her noticing.

  Even so, she cautiously donned her hood to conceal her face and wandered around Selene City in circles.

  She walked slowly, her steps steady, but her gaze remained alert. Only after confirming she wasn't being followed did she approach a secluded stone hut. She gently pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  She didn't know that at the moment she left her residence, someone had been watching quietly from a shadowy corner not far away.

  That figure crouched on the ground, cloaked in gray robes, with a hunched back. His hands were sunk into the earth, as if sensing something through the soil.

  It was none other than the Serpent Ancestor.

  In his palm, a small black snake slowly burrowed into the ground. Its thin, damp body writhed like a slick thread, slithering beneath the earth toward the stone hut.

  The Serpent Ancestor's eyes suddenly snapped open, and the corners of his mouth curled into a cold smile."Found you."

  At the same time, tension was rising in the dungeons of Selene City.

  Linda, vice-captain of the Seventh Patrol Squad—a cold, short-haired succubus—was standing outside a cell. With her position and her hidden identity, she had gained smooth access to the dungeon, where the serpent-man Gregor was imprisoned.

  "You're finally here," Gregor said wearily, barely holding himself together.

  Linda gave him a brief report on the outside situation, emphasizing that the minotaurs had remained silent, while the frost werewolves had caused a stir.

  Upon hearing this, Gregor's expression shifted slightly. He realized the situation had spiraled out of control, diverging from his original plan. He had expected the frost werewolves to keep quiet and the minotaurs to resist, but now it was the exact opposite.

  Before he could ask more, he noticed something unusual on Linda's face.

  "Someone sent me to deliver a message," she said in a low voice."He found the place."

  The words struck Gregor like a bolt of lightning. His pupils shrank, and his entire demeanor became alert.

  "He found it?" he muttered through clenched teeth, a strange glint in his eyes."Good. Very good."

  He immediately looked up at Linda, his tone urgent:"Linda, go see Selene right now and tell her I have something to say—something I must say in person! This concerns the fate of the entire Selene City. You must make sure she hears me!"

  Linda had never seen the captain so anxious. Her usually indifferent face showed a flicker of shock, clearly realizing the gravity of the matter. After a moment's silence, she nodded, her expression grim.

  "I'll go right away."

  She turned and left at a brisk pace, a heavy foreboding settling in her heart.

  To most, Selene might be difficult to reach. But not for her.

  Before Gregor arrived, she had been one of Selene's personal attendants—rarely seen in public, with her true identity known to almost no one. Though she appeared to be just another member of the patrol squad, she was actually one of Selene's planted eyes.

  As for Gregor, he thought he had hidden himself well. In truth, Selene had him firmly in her grasp from the start.

  What Selene didn't account for, however, was the presence of the Serpent Ancestor.