In the wars of the beastkin, there were rarely any complex strategies—brute force charges were the norm.

  If they could win, they fought. If they couldn't win, they still charged to give it a try.

  This straightforward and brutal approach had only two fundamental purposes: conquest and plunder.

  The army led by Selene was marching south on a large scale for exactly that reason—to seize more resources for the coming winter.

  The plan offered by the Werewolf chieftain had its merits, but it would take too long. Selene needed to move fast and grab as much as possible before the cold season arrived.

  She set her sights on the south not because the southern lords were weak, but because the prey was plentiful and the land was rich. That was a widely accepted truth among beastkin—the farther south you went, the more opportunities there were.

  Among the beastkin, there was a clear hierarchy: lower-tier, mid-tier, and upper-tier races.

  The Leopard Tribe and Black Tiger Tribe, known for their individual strength, were considered upper-tier.

  The Black Werewolves, like Draven's kind, though fierce, were only mid-tier.

  The weaker Kobolds, Rabbitfolk, and Pheasantmen naturally ranked at the bottom.

  Though this caste system didn't decide everything, Draven was always cautious when facing upper-tier races.

  Fortunately, the Leopard and Black Tiger Tribes living in the Divine War Hills weren't true natives. Their numbers were small, and Draven was confident he could beat them.

  According to the intel from Sardon, each of those two tribes had two chieftain-level leaders.

  The Leopard Tribe was slightly weaker, with one high-tier and one low-tier chieftain.

  Their total population was around three hundred, with about two hundred combatants.

  In comparison, the Serpentfolk, after losses and reinforcements, maintained a fighting force of three hundred.

  With the newly integrated Hyena Men, their numbers approached four hundred.

  A two-to-one advantage in numbers, plus a lead in chieftain-level power, but Draven didn't attack recklessly—he chose a forest ambush instead.

  This time, though, he didn't want to suffer too many casualties.

  While waiting for the latest intel, he began crafting a detailed battle plan.

  Sardon stood beside him, his expression complex.

  It was only now that Sardon truly realized: his tribe hadn't lost unfairly.

  Draven had a numerical advantage back then, yet still schemed and plotted.

  Was this really how beastkin fought?

  Was the Black Werewolf race always so shameless? So fond of dirty tricks?

  The Hyena Chieftain broke into a cold sweat, filled with doubt and unease.

  Draven, however, couldn't care less. He knew that training his warriors didn't mean sending them to die.

  Reckless charges were the fate of cannon fodder, but in Black Flag Territory, every beastkin was precious. He couldn't afford to waste lives.

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  Use the elderly and weak to lure the enemy?

  The enemy wasn't stupid—who wouldn't pounce on meat delivered to their doorstep?

  Unless the baiting force was overwhelming in numbers, they wouldn't last a single assault.

  Draven would never make that kind of foolish mistake.

  While waiting for Dorian and the scouts to return, Draven used his metal manipulation magic to help the warriors repair their weapons.

  They also kept a few of the Hyena Tribe's spare weapons in reserve.

  He even crafted basic armor—like chest plates—for them. The protection was minimal, but still better than nothing.

  Including the newly surrendered Hyena Men, the warriors grew more grateful toward the Black Werewolf leader.

  Strangely, that flicker of gratitude stirred something in Draven's heart. But when he tried to reflect on it, the feeling quickly vanished.

  "Maybe it's just guilt over taking their land," he muttered to himself, shrugging off the thought.

  That afternoon, the Dorian brothers returned in a rush.

  They immediately pulled out a hand-drawn map and gave a detailed report on the Leopard Tribe.

  Their information matched most of what Sardon had said, but included a much more precise understanding of the tribe's hunting routes and distribution.

  Draven ordered food and water to be brought over and had the Dorian brothers eat while explaining.

  Even Sardon was included—Draven intended to nurture all of them, and adapt the attack plan using the latest intel.

  He asked for their input constantly, refining the strategy piece by piece.

  Whether it was the assault method or tactical details, he tried to anticipate every angle in advance.

  On this matter, Draven held nothing back.

  Everything he knew, he shared with his subordinates.

  Even the Serpentfolk bloodline warriors were allowed to sit in and observe.

  In the future, as Black Flag Territory continued to grow and thrive, Draven knew he couldn't personally lead every battle.

  He had to start cultivating strategic awareness in his subordinates early on. As a chieftain, this was the only way he could free up time to manage other affairs—and maybe even relax a little.

  He went over the battle plan again and again, arranged for necessary drills, and finally the strategy came together.

  By dusk, Gregor and the others returned right on schedule—and this time, they brought Liliana with them.

  Liliana was riding on the neck of a Short-Horned Demon Ox, and another ox carried an icehawk on its back.

  This wasn't some impulsive whim on her part—her arrival had been entirely orchestrated by Draven.

  To take her place, the Ghost-faced Owl had been forced to stay behind at Village No. 2.

  The moment Draven saw the icehawk, he didn't even have time to express his joy before Liliana leapt off the ox and into his arms.

  Draven caught her steadily, hands resting under her thighs. Their foreheads touched gently as he nuzzled her hair and gave her a kiss.

  "Did you miss me?"

  "Hmph, as if I'd miss a big meanie like you!" Liliana giggled, though her lips were already pouting.

  In front of everyone, Draven just gave her a light kiss and then let go.

  He told Gregor and the others to go rest and prepare for the next day's departure.

  Then he led Liliana into the largest cave, sat down in the wide stone chair, and held her close in his arms.

  At the village entrance, Sardon was still eyeing the relaxed, grass-munching Demon Oxes with lingering dread. His gaze drifted to the surrounding hills.

  Whatever resentment remained in his heart was completely washed away now.

  The Black Werewolf leader had clearly held back. Otherwise, just those two Demon Oxes standing on the hillside would've been enough to level the Hyena village—without him even lifting a finger.

  But Draven hadn't brought Liliana and the oxes just to intimidate Sardon. The Hyena chieftain was a subject now—he didn't even deserve that kind of attention.

  Draven had originally intended to talk to Liliana about serious matters.

  But Liliana, curled up in his lap, was anything but well-behaved—squirming and fidgeting nonstop, not listening at all.

  Left with no choice, Draven shut the cave door behind them.

  "You brought this on yourself. Don't blame me for what happens next."

  Alone and outmatched, Liliana was no match for the Werewolf chieftain.

  Before long, all she could do was beg for mercy.

  Draven pinned her down, belly up, braced on all fours, his head tilted back with a wicked grin.

  "So... was the horse that easy to ride?"

  But the rider wasn't going down without a fight.

  When she couldn't hold out any longer, Liliana made a break for it.

  Draven grabbed her and wouldn't let go. Liliana kept wriggling and resisting.

  And then—out of nowhere—a massive brown bear appeared in the cave.

  Draven froze, spear stiffening.

  "Change back!"

  "No!" Liliana snapped defiantly.

  The brown bear's eyes gleamed with mischief and pride, and Draven's face darkened.

  Staring at the enormous beast—three or four meters tall—Draven growled,

  "If you don't change back, I'm not holding back either."

  But the bear showed no fear and even mocked him:

  "Come on, then!"

  The next second, with a sharp, spine-chilling wolf howl, Draven transformed into a towering werewolf, just as tall.

  "Ahh! That's cheating! You can't do that!" Liliana shrieked.