The moment the Black Tiger Tribe's chieftain brothers were subdued, the entire village plunged into chaos.

  Elira and Thalia held their short blades firmly against Thorin and Baldric's necks, their eyes unwavering, their voices cold and unyielding.

  The Black Tiger warriors initially looked ready to fight to the death—but faced with this situation, they could only lower their weapons one by one and bow their heads in defeat.

  Draven, still disguised as a Leopard Tribe member, stood within the group. With a flick of his hand, he pulled out a pile of thick beast tendons and python sinews from his spatial storage.

  He personally tied up the brothers tightly, looping the cords multiple times until their faces turned red from the pressure.

  The other Leopardfolk followed suit, swiftly binding the rest. In no time, fewer than a hundred Black Tiger warriors—along with the tribe's women, elders, and children—were all under control, tied up in the square in front of the main hall.

  Of course, not everyone surrendered willingly. A few quick-witted individuals tried to slip out during the confusion, but as soon as they reached the village gate, they ran straight into the Serpentfolk ambush and were captured immediately.

  There was no hope and no escape. Under Draven's suffocating aura, surrender was their only option.

  Once he confirmed total control of the situation, Draven removed the mask from his face, revealing his true appearance.

  At that moment, Green Serpent eagerly brought over a chair, placing it at the entrance of the main hall and even dusting it off carefully.

  Draven didn't stand on ceremony. He sat down and stretched out lazily in comfort.

  Green Serpent praised him excitedly,"Chief, your strategies are brilliant—what a beautiful victory!"

  Draven only gave a light chuckle and nodded.

  "It did go smoothly this time," he said."Especially that enhanced knockout drug of yours. Impressive."

  Though Green Serpent wasn't much use in actual combat, he was indeed talented in concocting poisons and sleep agents. Even if he couldn't fight, his potions had proven extremely valuable.

  Perhaps this was the Serpentfolk's natural affinity for toxins.

  But Draven wasn't all praise. His tone shifted as he brought up Green Serpent's wastefulness back at the Hyena Man's village—how he had fed all the corpses of the fallen warriors to their guardian serpent.

  If those bodies had been kept for research, something more useful might've come from them. Now with the Black Tiger Tribe taken without a single death, they didn't even have a corpse to study.

  Just then, Sardon's eyes noticed Thorin's body twitch slightly on the ground. Narrowing his gaze, he instantly realized—the guy was faking unconsciousness.

  Without hesitation, Sardon dashed forward and delivered a vicious kick to Thorin's waist. The Black Tiger chief rolled over with a startled and furious expression, now wide awake.

  Sardon didn't stop. He used this chance to both demonstrate his loyalty and vent his long-held frustration—he kicked him twice more, hard.

  After all, within the old alliance, the Hyena Tribe had always been the weakest, their voice the least valued. Sardon had long harbored resentment toward the arrogant Black Tiger Tribe.

  Thorin glared up with his tiger-like eyes, staring daggers at Sardon.

  Draven said nothing, simply watching as Thorin got kicked, his expression as relaxed as if he were enjoying a circus show.

  Only when Thorin turned his eyes toward him did Draven raise a hand, signaling Sardon to stop.

  "You're the chief of the Black Werewolves?" Thorin asked, his voice full of fury and humiliation.

  Draven shrugged."Now you see clearly, don't you? I've been standing in front of you all along."

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  "You're despicable!" Thorin growled through clenched teeth.

  Sardon, hearing this, found another excuse to lash out—two more kicks landed. Thorin rolled a few more times, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, too dazed to speak.

  Draven stood up and walked over, looking down at the fallen Black Tiger chieftain.

  "You've lost. The Black Tiger Tribe is finished." His voice was calm and steady."But if you're willing to surrender, your bloodline can still live on. If you continue to resist, your tribe will be erased."

  Thorin didn't reply. His eyes were full of hesitation and unwillingness. He didn't want to admit defeat—but he also knew they had no chance of winning.

  Draven didn't press. He knew Thorin was still wrestling with himself. So he waved his hand and called Elira over.

  Elira walked over with a bright smile, even giving Sardon a meaningful glance.

  Sardon was full of resentment but didn't dare say a word. Now that Elira had Draven's backing, he could only grit his teeth and endure.

  Ignoring him, Elira knelt gently beside Thorin.

  "Thorin, what have we really been fighting for all these years?" Her voice was soft, almost tender.

  Thorin froze at her words. Even Sardon, standing nearby, fell silent.

  Their three tribes had originally formed an alliance just to survive, being among the weaker races. Yet through all these years, conflict and suspicion between them had never ceased.

  However, after all these years, even though the Serpentfolk were long gone, the development of the three remaining tribes had been far from ideal.

  The Leopard Tribe's food reserves could only last two or three months, and the Black Tiger Tribe wasn't faring much better.

  Elira remained crouched beside Thorin, her tone calm. She didn't try to persuade him directly to surrender—instead, she simply spoke honestly about the hardships and helplessness she had endured as a tribal leader over the years.

  Thorin frowned deeply. He understood every word Elira said, but he didn't understand why she was saying it now. Just as impatience began to show on his face, Elira shifted the topic, finally getting to the real point.

  "Thorin, look around—under our leadership, the tribes can only manage to survive like this at best."

  "But now, there's a better opportunity. Can't you see it? If Draven can take us down, he can lead us to conquer more tribes. Only by following someone strong do we have a future."

  With those words, Elira fell silent. She didn't press further—she just stared at Thorin quietly. Her words weren't only meant to convince Thorin—they were also a way to convince herself.

  Thorin remained silent for a long time. At last, he slowly lowered his head, his posture filled with resignation and exhaustion.

  Seeing this, a glimmer of joy flashed through Elira's eyes. She stood up and turned to report the good news to Draven, smiling easily with a touch of slyness in her gaze.

  Draven looked at her, and an odd thought surfaced in his mind—Is she trying to seduce me?

  His gaze subtly shifted to Thalia, the delicate young woman nearby. Whether this is appropriate or not... that's something to consider later.

  When Baldric finally woke up, he was forced by Thorin's reluctant command to kneel alongside his brother. Together, they marked their foreheads with the symbol of submission.

  To be honest, Draven didn't like this method much, but he had no better way to maintain control over the Black Tiger Tribe, so he accepted it reluctantly.

  With that, the entire northern region of the Godwar Hills was officially unified under his rule.

  Draven personally helped untie the brothers, removing the python sinew bindings. His followers also released the rest of the Black Tiger Tribe.

  Just moments ago, they had blades pressed to their throats—now, regaining their freedom, they seemed lost and disoriented.

  Thorin, Baldric, and the other Black Tiger Tribespeople struggled to adapt to the sudden reversal—but they had no choice.

  To the victor go the spoils. The defeated must submit.

  Draven invited the two chieftains back into the main hall. The tainted bloodwine was removed and replaced with fresh drink.

  Thalia was specifically named the one to pour the wine. She carefully carried the bowl, smiling as she offered it to everyone.

  Draven raised his cup and drank with confidence, declaring:

  "From now on, we're all family. Black Flag Territory doesn't mistreat its people."

  Those words brought some comfort to Thorin and the others.

  Captured and forced to submit, they certainly felt humiliated and resentful—but their greatest fear had always been falling into the hands of a cruel and merciless master.

  Though the Black Werewolf chieftain had his underhanded side, the fact they might live decently under his rule was at least something to cling to.

  Draven toasted a few more rounds but didn't let anyone get too drunk. Once he felt the timing was right, he ordered the wine and meat cleared away and began organizing the northern affairs.

  Without exception, the elders and children of all three tribes were to be relocated to Village No. 2 for centralized management. The elderly and weak would be assigned light tasks, while the children would receive education and training.

  Even Elira, who already had a favorable impression of Black Flag Territory, found it hard to fully trust this arrangement.

  The three chieftains all understood what was happening: the Werewolf leader was using their elderly and young to hold them in check. But sadly, they no longer had the strength to resist. All they could do was swallow their frustration.

  Draven noticed the dissatisfaction in their eyes but said nothing. He knew that time would prove everything—and the truth would reveal itself eventually.

  Excluding the old and weak, the Black Tiger Tribe had fewer than a hundred able-bodied warriors remaining. The Hyena Tribe's remaining force was about the same. The Leopard Tribe was the strongest, with around two hundred fighters.

  Together, they now had a fighting force of nearly four hundred warriors—among them, two dominant species in the Black Tiger and Leopard Tribes. Their strength was not to be underestimated.

  And as for their future—Draven had already thought it all through.