With the arrival of more than 1,300 Black Wolfman slaves, the total population of the Black Flag Territory finally surpassed the two-thousand mark.

  In the world of demi-humans, such a number could barely be considered a medium-sized tribe.

  More importantly, Black Flag Territory now had three high-ranking leaders: Draven, Ragnar, and the Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent—a powerful combination by demi-human standards.

  Still, Draven felt a hint of helplessness.

  The number of bloodline warriors in the tribe remained extremely low, which had always been a sore spot for him.

  In contrast, although the Snakefolk only numbered two to three thousand, they possessed dozens of bloodline warriors, making their overall strength significantly greater.

  Nevertheless, if Draven chose to, the Black Flag Territory now had enough power to sweep across most regions.

  But he had no intention of launching a war immediately.

  War was like an out-of-control machine—once it started, it was hard to stop, especially for demi-humans.

  The primary reasons demi-humans waged war were revenge, population capture, and resource seizure.

  Resources naturally included land, but they were not adept at farming.

  This meant that while war could rapidly increase population, food production could not keep up.

  To avoid starvation, another war had to follow quickly to restore the balance between people and grain.

  But war couldn't be waged year-round.

  The rainy season, beast tides, and blizzards all made prolonged conflict unrealistic.

  During times of war hiatus, demi-humans had to face enormous pressure on their food supplies.

  When food became scarce, the enslaved people they had captured often became winter rations.

  By the end of winter, the tribe's population frequently failed to grow as expected. Some tribes even collapsed from famine.

  This was one of the reasons Draven wasn't eager to start a war.

  Demi-human agriculture, industry, and commerce were all severely underdeveloped, making it impossible to accumulate wealth quickly.

  Unless a territory could no longer sustain the tribe's growth, few would risk launching a war.

  To them, hunger was the real enemy.

  Now, with the population surge, Black Flag Territory had to face the same problem of hunger.

  The existing food reserves, even after adding the 1,300 Black Wolfmen, would only last until next year at most.

  By then, if all the food stores were exhausted, the current harvest would not be enough to support the entire tribe.

  Fortunately, when Sylvia departed, the Elven Kingdom had sent a batch of supplies.

  Draven sat in the chief's hall, gently rubbing the metal bracelet on his wrist.

  It was of typical elven design—silver-white, with intricate and delicate carvings on its surface.

  Draven pricked his fingertip, letting a drop of blood fall onto the bracelet, and his consciousness was instantly drawn in.

  A vast space, roughly ten meters square, unfolded before him.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Draven's heart trembled slightly.

  A spatial item of this caliber was rare even in the Elven Kingdom.

  Inside the space were piles of burlap sacks and wooden crates.

  Draven focused his thoughts.

  With a thought, one of the crates dropped to the floor of the chief's hall.

  He opened the lid. Inside were neatly stacked scrolls of parchment.

  He picked up the topmost one and unrolled it for a closer look.

  At first, Draven's eyes lit up slightly, but his expression quickly turned into a frown.

  He set that scroll aside and pulled out another one to read more carefully.

  After examining several scrolls, he couldn't help but shake his head and smile bitterly.

  These parchment scrolls contained detailed instructions on building hydraulic windmills—but the content was bloated and verbose, filled with unnecessary nonsense.

  Hundreds of scrolls had been devoted to recounting the discovery of water power, the origins of windmills, and their historical development, repeating the same dry and convoluted concepts on nearly every page.

  To Draven, only a few scrolls with specific structural diagrams and technical details were truly useful.

  He glanced around at the vast space within the storage bracelet, filled with more than a dozen large crates, and felt a headache coming on.

  Draven temporarily set aside the heavy pile of parchment scrolls, deciding to sort through them later. What concerned him more at the moment were the burlap sacks—because inside those sacks was what he had been anticipating the most: seeds.

  The elves had always been meticulous in their ways. Every sack came with a clear label, specifying the type of seed it contained. Thanks to that, Draven didn't need to open them to know what was inside.

  He first moved a few sacks of vegetable and fruit seeds to the side. Although these seeds were limited in quantity, they at least offered something to cultivate. But what truly made his eyes light up were the dozens of sacks that remained.

  They were split into two main piles—one filled with wheat seeds, the other with corn seeds! With these two crops, combined with their existing cassava plantations, Black Flag Territory's future food supply was no longer in question.

  Draven knew all too well that simply possessing seeds was only the first step. The real challenge would be teaching the beastkin how to grow these crops.

  It was already late autumn. Once Martha and her scout team completed their road surveys, the next step would be to lead the tribe in clearing land suitable for cultivation.

  There likely wasn't much planting time left this year, but preparations couldn't be delayed. Even if they couldn't grow crops immediately, they needed to plan ahead—laying out farmland and clearing enough arable land for future planting.

  Perhaps the wheat could still germinate before winter arrived, becoming the first symbol of harvest in Black Flag Territory.

  Draven stared at the sacks of seeds piled high before him, uncertain how much land they could actually sow.

  His sense of cultivated land area was vague, but he understood one thing clearly: the more land, the better. Even if they couldn't finish planting all the wheat, cassava could make up the difference.

  Outside Village No. 2, near the pond, there was a patch of cassava growing well. Under the careful care of Oakfruit and a group of treants, the cassava vines had already spread across the entire field.

  Though the final yield had yet to be determined, Draven had asked Viola and her group of female slaves to trim the plants' tops in advance to promote healthier growth.

  Only after the autumn harvest would they know how fruitful the crop truly was. For now, he just hoped there wouldn't be any major setbacks.

  Draven summoned Viola and instructed her to organize the slaves to carry the sacks and crates into the storage room. He specifically reminded them to be careful about moisture—these seeds held the future of Black Flag Territory.

  Viola nodded in understanding and told Big Bear and his companions to build sturdy wooden racks. They would place the seeds on top, never allowing them to touch the damp ground.

  Thinking of Big Bear, Draven felt a sense of satisfaction. The two bearfolk carpenters had made noticeable progress during their training. Although their furniture was still somewhat bulky and crude, it was now functional and suitable for daily use. The upside of the rough craftsmanship was its durability—just like the large bed they now slept on, which didn't creak no matter how one tossed and turned.

  It was a sign of their growing skills.

  Big Ox and Little Ox had improved even faster in their masonry skills. They had begun crafting simple household tools like millstones and mortars—items Draven urgently needed.

  On his last trip to Selene City, Draven had also asked Rurik to pay close attention to the local blacksmiths' techniques. After all, a tribe's development relied on its artisans. Without skilled craftsmen, neither economy nor daily life could progress.

  Now that he had a new spatial bracelet, Draven felt the old storage ring was ready to be retired. After some consideration, he decided to assign the storage ring to Bran, so it could play a greater role in future missions.

  At the same time, he planned to strengthen ties with the Rhinoceros Men. Known for their brute strength, they could become a vital workforce for Black Flag Territory—provided the food issue could be resolved.

  They were quite different from the Golden Monkey Men. The latter's chief was old and weak in combat, always cautious in his diplomacy. Even when dealing with the friendly Black Flag Territory, their elder chief, Goldmanes, remained wary and observant.

  But the Rhinoceros Men's leader, Sethric, was in his prime—tough-skinned, muscular, and teetering on the edge of starvation. As long as they were fed, they would work with all their might for survival, never shying away from blood or sweat.