On the way back, Draven packed a large bundle full of beast skins, bones, jerky, and some processed innards.

  Draven had no choice but to use Ragnar as a beast of burden. Although Ragnar was injured, he was still the strongest among the four of them when it came to carrying weight.

  Bran and Rurik had to rely on their own two legs to walk back.

  Completing the mission and returning alive was already enough to relax. Besides, having magical beast meat every day—even without spices or proper tools to prepare it—was like heaven, as long as it filled their stomachs.

  They chatted and laughed on the road, as carefree as if they were on a leisurely stroll.

  Unfortunately, they never encountered a second magical beast on the entire journey. They all hoped to meet another one, even if it meant a tough fight. As long as they won and brought back some spoils, it would be worth it.

  But the wilderness was unnervingly quiet, almost eerie, as if the beasts smelled the blood and stayed far away.

  Three days later, Selene City finally appeared in the distance.

  This time returning to the city felt completely different. They no longer walked with bowed heads and heavy steps like last time. Instead, they stood tall, their gazes firm, as if they were warriors returning victorious.

  Back at their shabby stone hut, they unloaded the heavy spoils and handed them over to the two clan members left behind for processing.

  After giving a few instructions, Draven took the magical wolf's pelt and magic core alone and headed to the city center to pay respects to the lord.

  The lord's hall was still dark and spacious, and the woman on the high throne remained alluring and mysterious.

  As usual, Draven knelt on one knee, bowing his head to the ground. But this time, his mood was no longer timid and anxious—it was calm and confident.

  Selene's voice was lazy and carried a hint of surprise, "You already dealt with that magical beast so quickly?"

  She leaned slightly forward, her gaze following Draven's movements. In those enticing eyes flickered a spark of interest, as if she was reevaluating the werewolf before her.

  Draven lifted his head, his expression steady. He straightened his back like a soldier who had completed his mission.

  "My lord probably didn't expect I'd come back alive," he said evenly, but with an unmistakable sharpness beneath.

  Selene's smile vanished for a moment; her eyes suddenly turned cold, her voice low and sharp: "What did you say?"

  The air in the hall immediately tensed, as if even the shadows had frozen.

  But Draven's expression did not change. He calmly said, "I have completed the task. Please inspect the results, my lord."

  He unfastened the heavy bundle and forcefully raised it high.

  Selene frowned slightly and curled a finger. The bundle seemed to be lifted by an invisible force, slowly floating over to her, hovering in midair.

  The bundle opened on its own, revealing neatly arranged magical wolf pelts, hard beast bones, and the magic core.

  Her eyes narrowed, a glint flashing as she recognized the truth. "A mid-tier leader-class magical beast, huh…"

  She spoke softly, her tone tinged with amusement, "I see now—this was a mistake in my arrangements."

  For a newly appointed werewolf leader, sending him to hunt a magical beast one level above was indeed against protocol.

  Her original intention was to test him, not to kill him. But this guy not only came back alive, he brought back complete spoils—that was worth more than just finishing the mission.

  Selene paused for a moment, a faint, inscrutable smile appearing on her lips. She snapped her fingers, producing a crisp sound.

  A shadow silently appeared beside her, kneeling respectfully.

  "Find out," she instructed indifferently, "who gathered intelligence on that area. Deal with them according to regulations."

  "Yes, my lady," the shadow acknowledged and vanished in the blink of an eye.

  Silence fell again in the hall. Draven stood still. Although calm on the surface, he could feel several cold gazes watching him from the shadows, like blades pressed against his neck.

  Suddenly, Selene laughed.

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  "You did quite well indeed," she said slowly. "Mistakes must be punished, but merits deserve reward. Since the prey was a miscalculation on my part, let's raise the grade of your supplies by one level."

  Draven was stunned. Her words echoed in his mind—she said raise it again.

  His heart pounded wildly. He knew his gamble had paid off.

  He had deliberately acted tougher than last time to pressure Selene into rewarding him. If she was really the kind of petty and unforgiving mistress, he would have been dead long ago.

  But she wasn't. She admired strength, especially when it exceeded expectations.

  Draven exhaled deeply and bowed, clasping his fists together. "Thank you, my lord."

  Selene smiled gently but said nothing.

  After a moment, a group of succubus maids in sheer silk robes slowly approached. Their figures were enchanting, their steps light, every movement deadly alluring.

  Draven's eyes did not look at their faces but at the items they carried.

  The first maid held a sleek long axe. The metal gleamed faintly; the blade was sharp, etched with dark patterns that seemed to ripple with the light.

  The other three maids each held trays laden with supplies: dried magical beast meat, crafted healing ointments, and even a vial of pale red magic blood solution.

  These were support supplies for the newly crowned leader.

  Draven's eyes flickered as he reached out to take the long axe. It was cold to the touch, but soon a familiar pulse came through it, as if his bloodline was responding.

  This was the legendary bloodline weapon, specially made for the awakened, resonating with the user's lineage.

  He gently stroked the axe's shaft with his fingers. The sensation was like touching the skin of a cold and elegant lover—metallic chill, yet full of power.

  A spark of fire flickered in Draven's eyes.

  Since awakening his bloodline, he rarely used weapons anymore. It wasn't arrogance, but ordinary weapons simply couldn't contain his savage power.

  After the bloodline awakened, Draven's body underwent tremendous changes. Fueled by the power of his bloodline, he transformed into a werewolf, standing over three meters tall, with muscles solid as iron blocks. Every step he took seemed to carry a heavy, oppressive force.

  Such a physique made ordinary weapons completely unsuitable for him. It wasn't that he looked down on them, but the sizes simply didn't fit. Short swords and narrow knives felt like toys in his hands.

  Not to mention the damage those weapons could do to magical beasts—especially mid-level or higher monsters—ordinary weapons were almost useless.

  In the past, he could handle low-level beasts, but now with his higher-tier bloodline awakened, hunting leader-level magical beasts meant those weapons couldn't even pierce their hide.

  It wasn't that he didn't want better weapons, but he didn't have the means. Simply put, he was poor.

  Bloodline weapons were not something ordinary blacksmiths could forge. The manufacturing process was complicated and headache-inducing; even selecting materials required extreme care. They had to incorporate special magical blood minerals, which were rare throughout the entire territory.

  More importantly, the weapon had to be inscribed with magical rune arrays to resonate with the user's bloodline—only then could it truly unleash its combat power.

  Don't be fooled by the plain and somewhat rough appearance of this dark great axe in his hand. Without a leader-level magical core as the cost, no one could obtain such a weapon. This wasn't something a street-side blacksmith could craft.

  Draven stroked the cold, hard metal runes on the axe handle, feeling a faint vibration from his palm—a mysterious resonance, as if the weapon was responding to his touch.

  He could clearly sense that this great axe had a connection with the bloodline inside him. It was not an inanimate object but a part of his future battles.

  The joy in his eyes was impossible to hide, and the smile on his face grew sincere and fiery.

  The succubus attendant standing beside him smiled gently, as if she had long anticipated this moment. She covered her lips and whispered, signaling Draven to look at the remaining three trays.

  Draven returned a polite smile and stepped forward to take the items from the first tray.

  There were two beastskin documents, supple in texture, with finely written characters in dark red ink, and a map depicting a valley area southwest of Selene City—that was the territory he was granted.

  He spread out the documents and read carefully. The text clearly stated that the Succubus Lord bestowed Draven a fixed territory, allowing him to establish a settlement as a newly appointed leader.

  The land belonged to him. He had the right to govern, develop it, gather tribes, build defenses, and recruit warriors.

  Of course, the territory was not given for free. Starting the second year, he was required to pay the lord an annual rent of twenty low-level magical cores, or one leader-level magical core as tribute.

  Draven had no objections. Although the Succubus Lord was tolerant of outsiders, she was not running a charity. This system was practical and clear: if you want resources, you must provide value in return.

  "Very well," he said softly, as if speaking to himself.

  He activated his bloodline power, releasing a faint energy from his fingertips, and pressed his bloodline mark at the bottom of the document.

  The mark seeped into the beastskin like flames, emitting a faint purple glow, announcing that the contract was in effect.

  One copy was placed back in the tray, and the other he carefully folded and solemnly put into his bosom. He knew that even though it was just a piece of beastskin, it was the entire legal basis of his territory, and the foundation for his future expansion and survival.

  After finishing this, he turned his gaze to the second tray.

  There lay a scroll surrounded by a faint aura of magical power. Draven was slightly stunned as he reached out to take it. The moment his fingers touched the fabric, he immediately knew what it was.

  The scroll contained a slave roster—population support.

  What was the most important thing for establishing a settlement? Not weapons, nor gold mines, but people. Without people, development was just empty talk.

  Currently, he only had two clansmen under his command. Though loyal, it was obviously insufficient. He needed laborers, warriors, craftsmen, even beast tamers and hunters.

  The scroll listed a batch of slave resources allocated by the Succubus Lord. Although their backgrounds and skills weren't detailed, it at least guaranteed the basic manpower needed for construction and survival.

  Draven exhaled deeply. This population could solve his most pressing problem.

  Finally, he looked at the third tray.

  Resting quietly on it was a pitch-black token, about the size of his palm, engraved on the front with a flame symbol. On the back were two ancient demonic runes meaning "supplies."

  This was a supply token. With it, Draven could claim enough survival provisions from the lord's manor to sustain two hundred people for half a year: food, water, tools, simple tents, and a small amount of basic weapons.

  This was the Succubus Lord's most practical support for newly appointed leaders.

  Draven carefully gathered the scroll and token into his bosom. He straightened up and bowed deeply to the lord once more.

  This time, his gratitude toward Selene was genuine and heartfelt.