"Respected Lady Juliana," Draven spoke first before she could ask, his voice calm yet exceptionally firm, "I believe there is some misunderstanding here."

  He stood before the young Firefox girl, one hand lightly resting on the sword's hilt, eyes steady. "The Firefox tribe has never been Chief Henrik's spoils of war. They are free people under the protection of our lord."

  "The Ape-Men hunting them in the wild have already broken Lady Selene's iron rule. I suppose you wouldn't want this matter to reach Selene City, would you?"

  His words cut sharply to the core, leaving Juliana no time to respond.

  Her expression flickered slightly, unsure how to reply. Her gaze involuntarily shifted to the towering troll Garruk standing nearby.

  Garruk said nothing, merely nodded at her, confirming Draven's claim.

  Juliana's mood sank. But she knew her position clearly.

  She was just a succubus sent by her clan—a political pawn arranged for marriage alliances with foreign leaders, rapidly cultivated through secret arts and potions to reach suitable marrying age.

  From childhood, they were taught how to control men in bed, not how to fight on the battlefield. Their charm and manipulation skills served the alliance, not themselves.

  These marriages were never equal partnerships but sacrifices marked by exchange. Juliana was just one among many.

  If this matter escalated to Lady Selene, without a valid claim, her clan would surely sacrifice her to appease the situation. She had seen such outcomes too many times.

  Her eyes swept over Draven's group and soon landed on the young Firefox girl. Delicate features, blood-stained red fur, yet her youth and vitality shone through.

  Besides her, only a few children remained in that Firefox group.

  Juliana's expression changed. She was no fool and clearly understood why Henrik was relentlessly chasing this group of Firefoxes. He wanted to kidnap them—or more precisely, to seize that little fox.

  A cold glint flashed in her eyes. Back home, the marriage candidates had no status; if treated as mere ornaments in their husbands' homes, they were nothing.

  She turned and shot Henrik a fierce glare, her anger blatant, silently saying, "Just wait, I'll deal with you when we return."

  Then she faced Draven again, her expression softening like the gentle spring sunshine.

  "Since this is a misunderstanding," she smiled, her voice sweet and gently feigning innocence, "a few little Firefox children really aren't worth troubling our lord over. Isn't that right, werewolf chief?"

  "Of course," Draven immediately stepped down a notch, adopting a humble demeanor and nodding repeatedly.

  He knew exactly when to advance and when to retreat. Avoiding conflict and saving face was all that mattered.

  He secretly breathed a sigh of relief. It was better not to fight—their mission was not yet complete, and it wasn't worth risking everything over a few Firefoxes and Ape-Men.

  But before he could exchange pleasantries and make a graceful exit, the scene shifted again.

  "No!" Henrik bellowed like a furious beast, scaring the nearby Firefox children to huddle together. "They killed warriors of our tribe, spilled our blood—we must not let them off lightly!"

  The air seemed to freeze; all eyes focused on the Ape-Man chief.

  His rage was genuine. The black giant club in his hands trembled slightly, signaling his readiness to strike again.

  Draven's smile instantly froze. He slowly turned to Henrik, his gaze cold and devoid of any appeasement.

  "Lady Juliana," he said, addressing the succubus with a hint of sarcasm, "it seems Chief Henrik has no intention of backing down. Do you have any advice?"

  He gave no orders, no threats, but his meaning was clear: if you can't control your man, don't blame me for taking action.

  Juliana hesitated. Though she could influence Henrik, all the Ape-Men warriors were watching.

  If she forcibly stopped Henrik in front of her people, her status would become a laughingstock.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  She knew she could seduce and manipulate men in private, but not interfere with tribal life-or-death decisions.

  Her silence told Draven everything.

  He snorted coldly, staring down Henrik. "I don't care about what happened before, but from now on, these Firefox children belong to me!"

  "If you want to lay a hand on them," his hand already gripping the sword hilt, "you'll have to get past the Black Wolf tribe first!"

  No sooner had he spoken, the werewolves Rurik and Bran howled to the sky in unison.

  Though their howls lacked overwhelming force, the intensity and fury coursing through their blood rang out unmistakably. They would not back down. They were Black Wolves—blood may spill, but they would never bow.

  The little fox girl Viola stood trembling nearby, her heart racing wildly. Her palms were soaked with sweat, her eyes filled with fear and confusion.

  She had witnessed the brutal fight between the troll and the Ape-Man chief and could barely breathe. That was the power of a chief—enough to crush her body with a single blow.

  She was no fool. She was the last blood warrior of the Firefox tribe.

  The succubus's appearance eased the tense atmosphere somewhat. Everyone thought the matter would settle there, but unexpectedly, the ape leader stepped forward once again, his face full of fury, his voice booming like thunder, reigniting the scene.

  Viola froze. She stood among the Fire Fox clan members, her body trembling slightly, her eyes confused and pained.

  When the ape leader publicly accused them of killing ape tribesmen, she felt as if a heavy hammer had struck her chest. Tears welled up in her eyes.

  This was not the truth. They were not the killers but the hunted.

  The real truth was that they had been relentlessly pursued by the apes in the wild, losing almost all of their people during the escape.

  In the end, the elder of the Fire Fox clan self-destructed her spirit core at the edge of the valley, sacrificing her life to buy a sliver of hope and barely holding off the pursuers.

  How could she ever forget that moment? Flames erupted from the elder's chest, flesh and spirit power mingling, staining half the sky red, and burning into her memory.

  Yet now, faced with these powerful beings, she couldn't utter a single word.

  She was too weak; she had no right to explain, no strength to refute.

  The succubus stood beside her, the troll Garruk glared fiercely, and the ape Henrik was full of menace, as if ready to tear her apart at any moment.

  Her knees weakened, and she could hardly stand.

  Just when she thought it was all over, when she assumed the werewolf leader would be like the others and trade them off as bargaining chips, he said something she would never forget in her life:

  "They are mine now."

  That sentence struck her heart like a thunderbolt, freezing her in place.

  She didn't understand why leader Draven did this. To him, they were worthless—no combat power and possibly troublemakers. Yet he stepped forward and took responsibility upon himself.

  Viola's tears finally slipped uncontrollably down her cheeks, but this time it was not out of humiliation or fear—it was because of an indescribable warmth.

  She gently lifted her head to look at Draven, her gaze complex, as if seeing a light suddenly ignited in a blizzard. She bit her lip, trying to steady her racing heart, not daring to think too much.

  But before she could calm down, ape Henrik's roar shattered the silence.

  "Fine!" he growled, "If that's what you say, then fight me!"

  He stepped forward, muscles tensed, and slammed his black war club heavily on the ground behind him, sending a deep rumble through the earth.

  "If you win, they're yours. If you lose, I deal with them!"

  A beast-like pressure swept over the forest, and the surrounding Fire Fox clan members shrank back in fear.

  Draven sneered, his tone dropping all pretense of politeness, dripping with disdain.

  "They were mine from the start."

  "But if you lose without consequence, why should that be?"

  He turned and glanced at Juliana standing not far off, a meaningful smile curving his lips.

  "Let's raise the stakes then. Since you want to gamble, let's make it bigger. If you lose, your beautiful mate is mine."

  As soon as the words left his mouth, the troll Garruk cleared his throat, shooting a glance to remind him to mind his manners—Juliana was still standing there!

  But Juliana was not angry. She smiled softly, her eyes wandering over Draven with a hint of flirtation.

  She didn't dislike Draven's appearance. Compared to the fang-filled, black-furred Henrik, this tall and handsome werewolf fit the succubi's aesthetics better.

  Her lips curled, her voice gentle but teasing:

  "The werewolf leader really knows how to joke. Juliana has no intention of becoming your gamble."

  She paused, then shifted tone abruptly:

  "But since we're talking bets, our tribe happens to be sheltering some of your Black Wolf cubs."

  She raised her hand and pointed toward several young werewolves not far away, wearing Black Wolf insignias, nervously peeking from behind trees.

  "How about this: you fight, and these cubs are the stakes. Whoever loses hands over the children. Deal?"

  "Deal!" he agreed without hesitation, not even asking how many. At this moment, all he saw was Henrik's ugly face and the battle ahead.

  Henrik roared in anger, and before the fight officially began, he swung his black club fiercely toward Draven's head!

  Draven was ready; he flickered aside, avoiding the heavy blow.

  "An ambush? In front of me?" he sneered as his bloodline power burst forth.

  He seemed to grow half a head taller in an instant, muscles tightening, his fur like armor, and the battle axe in his hand transforming swiftly in a bloody glow—heavier and sharper.

  "Come on, let's see who's the real trash!"

  The axe clashed against the black club with a tremendous impact, shaking the surrounding trees and sending leaves swirling.

  Draven stepped back three times, each step leaving a small pit in the ground; Henrik stood firm, a victorious grin on his face.

  "As expected, your strength is still too weak!" Henrik laughed wildly.

  But what he didn't know was that this was exactly what Draven wanted.

  Draven understood Henrik's fighting style: strength-based, fond of overwhelming opponents, and prone to becoming arrogant once gaining the upper hand.

  Now, Henrik was stepping right into the trap Draven had set.

  Henrik fought harder and harder, swinging his club like the wind, attacking from all directions with no gaps, as if he wanted to smash Draven into the ground with a single blow.

  The forest echoed with crashing sounds, and a few startled birds took flight from the branches.