The reason Selene summoned Draven was largely related to Lydia.

  That night, she had completed the binding oath fusion with the black werewolf. Such a thing might be concealed from ordinary people, but definitely not from Lydia.

  After all, Lydia had grown up by her side, able to detect abnormal breathing patterns. Not to mention this time, the aftereffects brought by the succubus oath fusion were something even Selene herself couldn't fully hide.

  Moreover, Lydia was always sharp-witted. Though she kept silent on the surface, in her heart she had probably guessed almost everything.

  Eventually, under Lydia's questioning, Selene could no longer hide the truth. After a long silence, she confessed Draven's true identity—he was the Demon Lord.

  The matter of the Demon Lord was too big. She could command the succubi clan to keep silent, even have them swear blood oaths never to mention it. But she could not stop Lydia's mouth, let alone Lydia's aunt.

  Lydia was one of Selene's greatest vulnerabilities deep down. Having endured exile and betrayal, her aunt had supported her childhood and upheld the last shred of dignity for the succubi clan. But she was also a gossipy, meddlesome woman—once she knew something, she would never stay quiet.

  After a whole night of lengthy talks, Selene finally made a compromise.

  It was not out of sentimentality or guilt, but rationality told her it was necessary.

  She clearly understood that the Demon Lord's matter was no longer just about Draven's personal fate, nor merely about her own future. It was a matter of life and death for the entire succubi clan.

  Her feelings toward Draven were actually very complicated.

  She was never one to easily fall for anyone. Had she been a soft-hearted succubus, she wouldn't have become today's leader. What she believed in was that the succubi could stand at the top of the demi-human hierarchy by their own strength—not by relying on anyone, nor by praying for salvation.

  But in these two crises, the real turning point each time was Draven. He brought the power, he stabilized the situation.

  Even she was unwilling to admit it.

  Selene was not stupid. She knew that although the succubi oath was powerful, it should not cause such anomalies. As the ruler of Succubus City, with the power of faith, her strength was enough to rival mid-level lords.

  But Draven was only a leader-level werewolf—why, after fusing with her, could he summon a dark demonic wolf comparable to a high-tier lord?

  This was definitely not just a matter of bloodline. Purely based on black werewolf lineage, this could not be achieved.

  Selene did not believe in coincidences. She was certain Draven must harbor other secrets.

  But here lay the problem. If she accepted Draven, would that mean recognizing him as master? Relinquishing control of Selene City? In the future, would the entire clan operate under his will?

  Her heart resisted.

  It was like a queen who had built a vast kingdom suddenly being told to give up the throne and take her husband's surname. Forget about family—she simply did not believe that nonsense.

  This was not a question of love or faith, but control.

  If it were only about power, she had never lacked choices. Which lord nearby didn't covet her? Especially the two old lechers from the north, who had long sent countless envoys to probe her. If she agreed, she could pick any one of them and gain a powerful backing.

  But she insisted on walking her own path, step by step bringing Selene City to where it was today.

  Why Draven?

  Selene did not know the answer. This was also why she had let Draven roam freely these days. She was avoiding and evading a question she had to face.

  But now, matters had reached a critical point. They could no longer be hidden or escaped. She had no choice but to confront them head-on.

  When Draven stepped into the lord's hall, her heart actually skipped a beat.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  She found it unbelievable herself. Usually calm and decisive, but on this day, she suddenly felt the hall was colder than usual, as if the entire city was unnervingly quiet.

  She stood up, clenched her teeth, and with a voice low and almost suppressing anger, said,"Follow me."

  Draven looked at her, puzzled, and followed.

  He felt no pressure, even a bit curious. Just now, had he seen a trace of nervousness in her eyes? What was she afraid of? That he would refuse?

  He shook his head and followed her lazily.

  He actually had many questions to ask. Should he take this opportunity to speak about the black werewolf slaves? Selene was emotionally unstable now; maybe he could score something.

  But his only thought now was to get it over with quickly and go back as soon as possible.

  Not only Viola and the others were still worried in Black Flag Territory, Sylvia's departure was also approaching. He hadn't talked properly with her yet. The customs of the elves were only just beginning to become clear to him.

  If Selene knew what was on Draven's mind right now, she might just flip the table on the spot.

  Without a word, they passed through the rain and arrived at Selene's private residence.

  The moment Draven entered, he felt the atmosphere was different. No maids, no guards—only a single hanging lamp swaying in the corner.

  Selene sat in the seat she was most familiar with, as if only then could she find some semblance of security.

  She felt the coldness on her body gradually dissipate, but the unease in her heart grew heavier. Sitting opposite her, Draven appeared much more relaxed.

  Unlike his previous trembling demeanor, this time he looked lazy and was even secretly inspecting her room.

  He noticed the few pink lingerie pieces in the corner and squinted his eyes involuntarily.

  "Selene likes pink, huh?"

  For a moment, his expression turned somewhat lecherous.

  Selene's brow immediately furrowed, her mind ignited with irritation. She shot Draven a cold glare:

  "If you keep staring, be careful or I'll gouge your eyeballs out!"

  Draven was stunned for a moment, then quickly looked away. He smirked inwardly, muttering to himself, Who cares about your little things? It's not like I haven't seen them before.

  Though he said nothing, he hurriedly put on a pleading expression, rubbing his hands together and looking at Selene with hopeful eyes. This kind of silent request was even harder to refuse than if he had spoken outright.

  Selene rolled her eyes, clearly not wanting to waste words on this shameless guy. She casually pulled a token from her sleeve and tossed it toward him.

  "Take it."

  Draven was quick to catch it and smiled broadly. He looked down at the token in his hand, stroking the carved edges as if it were a treasure, the corners of his mouth involuntarily curling upward.

  Now, with this token, the name of the Black Wolf Clan was officially recognized. He was no longer just some rogue leader without status; he was now a tribe leader acknowledged by the territory's authority.

  His fondness for the token was almost perverse, like a miser clutching his gold. Selene watched this with a mixture of amusement and helplessness.

  She suppressed her irritation, took a deep breath, and forced herself to calm down. She recalled the decision she had made— this was the person she had chosen, so she could blame no one else.

  "Draven, how much do you know about the Dark Lord?"

  Selene interrupted his reverie, her voice low and serious. She patted the chair beside her, inviting him to sit.

  Slowly, Selene began:"You are the Dark Lord I have chosen."

  The air seemed to freeze. Draven was stunned for a few seconds, his mind flooded with question marks.

  He didn't react right away. Dark Lord? What the hell is that?

  Seeing his utterly confused expression, Selene decided to be straightforward:"You are the target of my succubus binding. In theory, you have absolute control over me."

  Draven's eyes suddenly jerked. At first, he had been able to accept the idea since he had already sensed Selene's mark in his consciousness— that mark was terrifyingly clear even in his dreams. But hearing the phrase absolute control made his brain explode.

  Wait, what does this mean? Whatever I ask her to do, she has to do?

  His mind immediately went off track. Remembering some of his little quirks, a slew of mischievous thoughts popped up. He even started wondering if he should buy thicker or thinner candles.

  Just as his imagination was getting more and more indecent, Selene's next sentence hit him like a bucket of ice water:

  "The premise is, you have to be stronger than me."

  Draven was startled, his mouth twitching. He instantly sobered up. A chill ran down his spine, and the candles in his mind snapped one by one. He sat up straight, no longer daring to drift off.

  He didn't dare act recklessly anymore. Though a little pleased inside, he knew this was no time to fool around.

  Seeing his compliance, Selene's expression softened a bit. She leaned back in her chair, her tone no longer as cold but still serious:

  "Until you surpass me in strength, I won't restrict you, nor interfere with your expansion in the Black Flag Territory. I may even support you at times."

  She paused, locking eyes with Draven:

  "But when the day comes that your power truly exceeds mine, you must give me the respect I deserve. Not pretend, but sincerely."

  Her words were heavy, but behind them lay huge concessions and compromises. This was not just a concession to Draven, but also to Lydia, the tribe, and the entire succubus tradition.

  Though the succubus binding is not a shared life, the death of the Dark Lord would be fatal to her as well. If she didn't die, she would become half a cripple.

  From Lydia's and the tribe's perspective, keeping the Dark Lord close is the most rational choice. Only by doing so can they guarantee his safety and ensure his greatest value at critical moments.

  But for Selene, this was the hardest to accept. She knew Lydia's nature— if Draven really stayed in Selene City, in less than three days Lydia would drag him into her room, and boldly claim it was to strengthen relations.

  So she came up with a compromise: acknowledge the Dark Lord's identity, but keep a distance.

  Don't let Draven stay nearby, don't let Lydia get her claws into him, and don't let herself get too deeply involved. This was the reconciliation she finally reached with Lydia and the tribe.

  As for Draven, he was behaving himself for now, probably not daring to disobey.