These fallen comrades were not truly Serpent Ancestor's real companions.

  Their bones lay scattered in the deepest crevices, having endured ten thousand years of wind erosion and petrification, long devoid of any trace of their former life force.

  That Serpent Ancestor could now discern from these fossilized remains that they once belonged to the Beast God faction was already the limit of his remaining divine consciousness.

  He lifted his head; his pitch-black snake eyes flickered faintly in the dim light as he cautiously scanned the surroundings. His expression gradually sharpened and grew resolute.

  Having been wounded and dormant since the early days of the Divine War, this should have been a humiliating memory, yet in hindsight, it might have been the luckiest event of his life.

  Even though only a faint, almost imperceptible aura lingered around, he could still sense:

  Every skeleton laid out deep in this fissure had once been a powerful being capable of standing shoulder to shoulder with him in his prime!

  Yet such existences, back then, were slain without so much as a name left behind, cut down by an unknown force's single sword, leaving no intact remains.

  Thinking this, Serpent Ancestor involuntarily raised his gaze toward the night sky. His eyes seemed to pierce through distant time and space, trying to recall who had wielded that world-destroying sword.

  Draven, standing beside him, frowned and cleared his throat softly, showing some impatience.

  He had brought Serpent Ancestor here not to reminisce or lament fallen heroes.

  He wanted to gather more information.

  Hearing this, Serpent Ancestor snapped back to his senses, realizing his lapse, and began carefully recounting the inferences he had drawn from the remains.

  But when Draven finished listening, he only sneered slightly, his face full of disappointment. This information was utterly useless, meaningless to him.

  He pressed further, asking about clues regarding the Divine Power Insect Nest, but Serpent Ancestor's snake eyes were filled with confusion.

  Draven narrowed his eyes, nearly certain in his heart that Serpent Ancestor had probably been little more than a runner during the Divine War— a minor player with no real influence.

  Yet unwilling to give up, he casually pulled a piece of golden bone from his beast pouch. At that instant, Serpent Ancestor's snake eyes suddenly flared with radiant light.

  "This is a demigod's bone!" he almost shouted, his voice a mix of shock and greed.

  That outburst effectively saved his own life.

  Draven looked at him, his lips finally curling into a slight smile. Although he hadn't extracted much information, this unexpected discovery made the trip worthwhile.

  However, after a long while, when he rode off alone on his Nightmare Horse from the crevice, his expression turned sour.

  Serpent Ancestor's recognition of that fragment had driven him nearly to madness with excitement. He kept voicing his desires repeatedly.

  Though the demigod bone had long lost most of its power, as long as its remaining divinity persisted, by merging with the soul fragments of the Ghost Serpent, he could draw the last remnants of divine power from it.

  Especially when Draven produced a few more intact golden bones, Serpent Ancestor was almost about to leap up.

  He said that if Draven was willing to gift him all those bones, then within at most ten full moons, he was confident he could recover to lord-level combat strength.

  What was originally intended as remnants for research could now be exchanged for a peak-power Serpent Ancestor.

  From a transactional perspective, the deal was indeed worthwhile. Yet Draven's mood did not improve.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  He had originally planned to use Serpent Ancestor to squeeze out more information or ancient secrets, but instead, he had ended up giving away the most valuable items.

  That feeling of losing out without gaining anything made him scowl all the way.

  His mind began to scheme: once Serpent Ancestor truly regained strength, how to continue squeezing this old snake for his own benefit.

  Worse still, after a whole night's toil, he hadn't even had time to eat.

  But when he pushed open the wooden door of the stone hut, inside Viola, Liliana, and Martha were gathered around an ice-blue giant bird, studying it intently.

  The big bird's feathers sparkled like crystal, resembling a sculpture of ice. Its wings were folded, and it stood quietly on the stone floor.

  Its size far exceeded that of an ordinary falcon. Its crest stood tall, and its tail feathers were long and elegant, trailing on the ground like velvet. Even without movement, it radiated an innate and noble aura.

  Nearby, a Ghost-faced Owl, which had somehow slipped into the stone hut, looked comparatively ridiculous.

  Its neck was hunched, its face showing a pleading expression, with black eyes tinged with a bit of envy.

  Its hooked beak was slightly open, as if ready to drip saliva at any moment.

  Without needing Viola or the others to point it out, just seeing the ice-blue giant bird, Draven immediately understood its identity.

  There was no doubt—this was the messenger sent by Sylvia. He shoved aside the Ghost-faced Owl, which was drooling and staring with eyes almost glued shut.

  The Ghost-faced Owl's silly grin was utterly embarrassing.

  Draven stepped forward and stood beside Viola and the others, also closely examining the elegant posture of the ice-blue giant bird.

  The Ghost-faced Owl, pushed down to the ground, let out two disgruntled calls, flapped its wings, flew up, and landed on Draven's shoulder.

  Draven glanced sideways at it, his eyes full of disdain.

  But just then, the ice-blue giant bird moved. It slowly turned its head and fixed its gaze on Draven.

  In that moment, Draven felt the Ghost-faced Owl on his shoulder stiffen, then excitedly start flapping its wings."It's looking at me!"

  Draven squinted and casually shooed the Ghost-faced Owl away.

  He looked down at the bird's feet—there was neither envelope nor scroll. He couldn't help but wonder: how exactly was this bird supposed to deliver a message?

  The next second, the ice-blue bird took a few gentle steps on the table, gracefully approaching him. It stopped in front of him, tilted its head slightly as if carefully verifying his identity.

  Its eyes, carved like frost, shone with intelligence. After this brief silence, the ice-blue bird spread its wings and let out a clear, pleasant call.

  Immediately, the air behind it began to warp, like ripples spreading across a water surface disturbed by a stone.

  Soon, a basin-sized spatial rift appeared.

  Then several objects fell one after another from the rift onto the stone table, producing crisp clinks.

  The ice-blue bird flapped its wings once more, and the spatial rift quickly closed, as if it had never existed.

  Draven and the three girls exchanged looks, like villagers seeing magic for the first time.

  Even the usually well-informed Viola opened her mouth wide, clearly stunned.

  Only Liliana seemed completely unfazed. Her eyes sparkled brightly as she hugged the ice-blue bird tightly, pressing her cheek against its smooth feathers, her face full of joy.

  Even more surprisingly, the bird didn't resist. Facing this unfamiliar little girl, it didn't step back but instead closed its eyes, seeming to enjoy the affection.

  Draven quietly mused that perhaps Liliana, as a druid, had a natural affinity with animals.

  He actually wanted to pet this noble, seemingly clairvoyant ice bird, but the items on the table were clearly more important.

  He reached out and pulled those items closer: a thick stack of leaf-paper sheets, a small burlap pouch, and a wooden box.

  The stack of leaf-paper caught Draven's attention. He recognized the material—it was a writing medium unique to the elves.

  The same kind Gareth had used to record blood elf secret arts.

  He didn't immediately open the pouch or box but first untied the vine rope binding the leaf stack.

  The leaves were divided into four portions—one for each of them—clearly private letters written by Sylvia.

  Draven's portion was the thickest. A smile spread across his mouth as he proudly handed the remaining portions to the three girls.

  "I wrote the most," he said with a tone of boastfulness.

  Liliana, no longer interested in petting the bird, immediately cheered and grabbed her letter.

  Draven didn't delay any longer and carefully unfolded his letter.

  Sylvia had been gone for some time, and seeing her familiar handwriting stirred an inexplicable emotion within Draven.

  In the letter, she used gentle but somewhat sorrowful words to express her reluctance to part and her deep longing for Draven.

  Fortunately, she had arrived safely in the elven kingdom and was now immersed in cultivation.

  She told Draven she had entered the elven high tower, preparing to break through to a magical power level equivalent to that of a demi-human lord.

  She also gave a brief introduction of the noble bird before him. It was called Icehawk—a rare dual-element magical beast of ice and spatial types.

  Its spatial ability allowed it to open a small pocket dimension for a short time, which was the swirling rift just now.

  In other words, it had an ability similar to carrying a portable space with it.

  "Oh my god," Draven's gaze toward Icehawk instantly turned fiery.

  This was basically a magical beast that could walk, fly, open space gates, carried a huge backpack with it, and had a built-in navigation system—who wouldn't want one?

  But just as his eager gaze landed, he saw the Ghost-faced Owl quietly creeping closer to Icehawk.

  Its face wore a flattering yet greasy expression, looking exactly like a drunk trying to flirt with a noble lady.

  Both birds—why was the difference so huge?

  But at this moment, Draven finally showed a genuine smile.

  Because the last part of the letter read: Sylvia had specially placed an Icehawk egg inside the box, leaving it to Draven to decide its fate.