As soon as Freya entered the stone chamber, she immediately pulled out the piece of bark from her robe. Lowering her head, she knelt on the ground and held it up with both hands. Even her breathing grew lighter, and her voice carried a trace of trembling.

  "Please... take a look."

  The air seemed to freeze in an instant. The terrifying pressure in the stone room felt as though it could crush the walls at any moment. Even someone as dull as Freya could sense the sudden shift in the other party's emotions. Had that power not been forcibly suppressed, this room would have already collapsed into rubble.

  "What happened?" The voice was low and stifled, filled with impatience and anger."How was this information leaked?"

  Freya kept her head down, her forehead nearly touching the floor. Her voice wavered, stumbling over the words as she tried to explain the situation clearly.

  "Valeria discovered traces of Sabina. She gave chase, but in the end only found this whip and this piece of bark."

  Her voice grew quieter and quieter. She didn't even dare glance at the other person's expression.

  "So, Sabina is either captured... or dead?" the other asked coldly.

  "Yes."

  "Then who did she leak the information to before she died?"

  Freya had no answer. She truly didn't know. Valeria had lost her target in pursuit, and these were the only clues she recovered.

  Clara, the blood elf standing in the center of the stone chamber, furrowed her brow. Her gaze was sharp as blades, locked onto Freya's back.

  This half-baked succubus lord—what good was she besides panicking? If it had been Clara in her place, even a tiny clue would've been enough to piece together the enemy's identity.

  But this woman only knew the trail was found in the west, and could say nothing else.

  "The west? Isn't that minotaur territory?"

  "You're right," Freya admitted,"I've already subjugated Torvald, but this matter may still be tied to the minotaurs."

  Freya was drenched in cold sweat. She knelt on the floor, voice shrinking further.

  Summoning her courage, she recounted the death of the minotaur Bronan and the incident with the frost wolf Nick causing trouble. She didn't dare hide anything—she knew full well Lady Clara loathed liars the most.

  "I've already calmed Torvald down and told him to control his men. But the frost wolves didn't listen—they went straight to the central plaza of the lord's manor and caused a scene."

  She lowered her head further, hair plastered to her face, curling herself into a tight ball.

  Clara inhaled deeply, forcing down the fire in her chest. Useless. Utterly useless.

  The frost wolves dared stir up trouble in Selene City? This city was a foundation the succubi had built over decades—not a place where just anyone could run wild.

  And all over one dead bloodline warrior? Normally, such things wouldn't even be worth mentioning.

  Clara's eyes sharpened, but a thread of unease flickered in her heart.

  Someone must be orchestrating this from the shadows. If it were just a coincidence, it wouldn't have entangled so many factions. She was starting to suspect an unseen hand was stirring chaos behind the scenes.

  And that hand might be pointing... straight at her. At her true identity.

  After a moment of silence, she made a decision.

  "Go back. Act like none of this ever happened." She paused, then added coldly,"As for this Valeria—starting now, she is Sabina. Let her take the fall for both deaths."

  Freya froze for a second, then quickly understood and nodded."Understood."

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  She knew this was Clara's style—simple, brutal, and watertight. Create a false substitute, divert attention, and trick the enemy into thinking the real Sabina was already dead. Valeria would be sacrificed.

  "Clean this up," Clara said coldly."Then take down the minotaurs completely, as soon as possible. Once they're under our control, we can speed up the search for that elven princess."

  "Yes." Freya withdrew, her expression complicated.

  Part of her felt sorry for Valeria, yet another part couldn't help but admire Clara's decisiveness. Why hadn't she thought of that herself?

  As long as this unrest was quieted, their enemies would surely show themselves again. When that time came, she and Clara could join forces—unless the enemy was a high lord, they wouldn't be escaping intact.

  Still, a faint trace of resentment stirred in her heart.

  Clara was powerful, yes—but far too cautious. If it had been up to Freya, she would've seized control of Selene long ago. Who cared what background the girl had? Take her first, then use her influence for their own ends.

  If they did that, never mind one elven princess—they could drag out ten.

  But that's how things were. Think too much, and you become paralyzed. Think too little, and you make fatal mistakes.

  Just like Gregor was doing right now.

  Gregor met Selene in person. Forcing down the nervousness in his chest, he began to speak, laying out everything he knew.

  "Freya is backed by the blood elves. They've been manipulating this whole situation from behind the scenes. I know where they're hiding."

  He thought this revelation would shock Selene—perhaps even earn her praise or gratitude. But she merely stared at him calmly, then asked in a soft voice:

  "Then tell me, why would the blood elves want to manipulate the succubi in the south and push them north to stir up trouble in my territory?"

  With just that one question, Gregor froze.

  He couldn't answer. He didn't dare tell the truth—doing so would expose Sylvia and her plans. But he also couldn't make up a convincing lie. He knew he wouldn't be able to fool the woman in front of him.

  The air felt like it had frozen solid. But in the very next moment, Gregor had lost the ability to make any decision at all.

  Selene smiled.

  It wasn't a gentle smile, nor was it mocking. It was the smile of someone completely in control, laced with a trace of irony. Her lips curled upward ever so slightly.

  Gregor's gaze went glassy in an instant. He was completely entranced, with no room left for resistance. Like a puppet stripped of its soul, he stared ahead blankly, docile and obedient, and began to spill everything he knew in a single breath.

  Back at the Black Flag Tavern, Draven, who had been working in the herb garden, suddenly stopped what he was doing.

  He still had a handful of soil, ready to loosen the earth around a potion plant—but he stood up straight, body tense.

  Through his secondary consciousness, he had sensed the change in Gregor. He knew he'd been betrayed. More precisely, he had been completely sold out by his own avatar.

  It was a humiliating feeling. He had laid his plans so carefully, only to be thoroughly exposed in this instant.

  But he didn't panic. He was waiting.

  He stared at the scene unfolding in Selene City, watching Selene's every reaction. At the first sign of danger, he would move to evacuate Sylvia immediately.

  This was no trivial matter. If Sylvia was exposed, it wouldn't just be trouble for the Black Flag Tavern—the entire beastkin race could face disaster.

  He couldn't take that risk. Even a tiny sliver of uncertainty was enough reason to flee.

  But there was nowhere to run. The Black Flag Tavern was the only safe zone he could think of. Every other location was either compromised or couldn't guarantee uninterrupted contact with the Elven Kingdom.

  So all he could do was wait—patiently.

  Over in Selene's chamber, her questions were becoming more and more pointed. She was now asking Gregor:

  "What exactly is the relationship between you and the elven princess?"

  Draven rolled his eyes and nearly burst out laughing.

  Good thing he had retained control over the main consciousness. Otherwise, that stupid snake might've even blurted out what he'd dreamed about the night before.

  But Selene wasn't in the mood for jokes.

  Her expression had gone completely cold. As she listened to Gregor's confession, her frown deepened. The revelation that the blood elves were searching for the elven princess was like a bomb going off in her mind.

  She had sensed that something was off with the recent developments, but now she finally grasped the true scope of the problem.

  A blood elf faction from the south had used the succubi as a vessel to approach her territory—just to gain a foothold and search for the elven princess?

  What was more outrageous—they had actually found clues.

  Her gaze turned sharp and icy.

  She quickly pieced together the logic: the reason the blood elves sent someone as low-ranking as Freya northward was to slowly infiltrate and advance cautiously. They didn't dare act openly. They didn't dare seize Selene City by force. That could only mean—they were afraid of something.

  Her eyes fell on Gregor again.

  The snakekin stood there, looking dazed and foolish, blinking slowly like he hadn't even realized what he'd just confessed.

  Selene's eyes went cold again—then softened slightly with a flicker of realization.

  She finally understood why the blood elves had never made a move against Selene City.

  She had thought it was because her power alone was enough to deter them. But now she saw the truth—they weren't afraid of her. They were afraid of the one behind her, the werewolf upon whom she had once secretly cast a forbidden charm.

  Yes—it all made sense now.

  The blood elves had detected traces of succubus-binding magic on her. But they had no idea the subject of that spell was merely a chieftain-class werewolf.

  That uncertainty had kept them from estimating her true strength—or from confirming whether she had even greater backing.

  Selene fell into thought, a twitch at the corner of her mouth betraying a bitter smile.

  How ironic. If the blood elves ever learned the truth, she probably wouldn't be able to hold Selene City at all.

  Just then, Gregor suddenly shivered violently and snapped out of his trance. He stared blankly at Selene, his gaze filled with confusion and a storm of complicated emotions.