Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

Time flew by, and another half a month passed.

Leixier’s original plan was to immediately cast the “Beacon Spell” after his physical strength recovered, to contact his Magician Forest colleagues to pick him up and inform them of the situation.

But the problem was that his magic power was too severely depleted.

So he stayed for over a month in total.

While recuperating and recovering his magic power, he also took the opportunity of Louis’s displayed magic talent to teach him some basic magic.

From the initial Fireball and Binding Spell, to later Light Beam, Shockwave, Magic Shield, Lightness Spell, Burning Arrow,

Bow Fire Style, Mana Hand, Slow Fall, Touch of Resonance—

In just over a month, Louis had mastered more than a dozen basic spells of different uses and schools!

His progress was too fast, as if he was devouring knowledge rather than learning.

But the time spent learning magic always came to an end,

As the weather gradually warmed, Leixier’s body recovered day by day.

Leixier sat in the courtyard, draped in a cloak, his fingertips gently rippling with magic.

His injuries had basically healed, and his spirit had mostly recovered.

That day, he looked back at Louis and said, “I’m almost—ready to cast the Beacon Spell.”

“Beacon?” Louis looked up in surprise, “You mean, you can contact your companions?”

Leixier nodded, “I’ve rested for quite a while. I need to immediately inform, well, headquarters, about the Worm-Eaten Household.”

As soon as he finished speaking, magic flowed through his hand, and he began to condense the spell.

The magic at his fingertips slowly rotated into a small silver rune circle, like a miniature halo, suspended in the air, emitting gentle but regular fluctuations, as if sending some kind of “echo” to the distant end.

And then—there was no then.

A moment of silence.

Only runes floated quietly in the air, and the wind made a slight whistling sound.

No teleportation gate, no magic circle, no dazzling spatial rift—everything was surprisingly quiet.

Louis stood by, watching all this, and blinked slightly.

A faint smile hung on his face, but his gaze was somewhat... puzzled.

Leixier noticed the momentary pause, turned to look at him, and asked with a hint of confusion, “What’s with that expression?”

“Well,” Louis thought for a moment and answered very seriously, “I thought there would be a teleportation gate, appearing with a ‘whoosh’ from the sky, and then someone would walk out of the light.”

He gestured as he described it, his eyes even showing a bit of anticipation and regret.

Leixier was silent for two seconds, then showed a complex expression of “I shouldn’t expect you to know common sense.”

After spending this time together, he knew that this Lord sometimes had some abstract ideas.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead, “This is a Beacon Spell, not a summoning spell.”

“Oh—”

Louis put on a look of sudden realization, “Then I thought someone would instantly move over and take you away directly.”

“......” Leixier was silent for a second, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

Apparently, it wasn’t the first time he had heard such “layman’s fantasies,” but every time he heard it, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

He explained helplessly, “Teleportation? Do you think it’s as simple as farting?”

He paused, then switched to a slightly more serious tone: “Teleportation does exist, but it’s a high-level spell with enormous consumption. Even a high-level Archmage who has mastered it proficiently can easily lead to magic depletion or even spiritual backlash with continuous use.”

“And its maximum safe distance,” he gestured with his fingertips, “is usually around two hundred meters. Any further and it becomes extremely unstable.”

Louis listened, his expression gradually becoming complex.

He nodded imperceptibly, “Then—what exactly is this Beacon Spell you just used for?”

“It’s just,” Leixier pointed to the slowly flickering blue light in the air, “to tell my distant companions where I am. Once the signal is stable, they will find a way to come and pick me up, but not in that ‘whoosh’ way from the sky.”

“Then how will they come?”

“On horseback—”

“Ohhhhh—” Louis showed a hint of disappointment.

This world was, after all, a low-magic world, without those invincible mages who could split mountains with a palm, teleport thousands of miles, or reverse time.

Perhaps there were some, but they were definitely very few.

Most mages were just fragile battle aura knights who could attack from a distance and had more tricks.

Even a fragile ranged mage, against a battle aura knight with full defense, probably wouldn't even have a chance to finish a spell.

However, this was not entirely disappointing.

He knew he would continue to learn.

Because even a “tricky squishy” was still one of the sharpest and most unpredictable weapons; as long as it was used well, it could still determine the direction of the battlefield.

Louis just needed to take off those illusory filters and master it in a realistic way.

And he was now also an elite knight, barely a low-spec version of an Different World Gandalf.

Louis imagined himself charging with a sword using battle aura while blasting with Fireball.

Hmm, a bit cool.

Sure enough, a few days after the signal was sent, three Silver Masked Mages arrived in the Red Tide Territory on horseback, covered in dust.

They were completely wrapped in thick cloaks, their aura restrained and their words sparse, yet they exuded a mysterious atmosphere that made people dare not approach.

The knight responsible for greeting them couldn’t help but feel a sudden tightness in his chest and immediately hurried to inform Louis.

“Let them into the meeting hall,” Louis nodded.

The door to the meeting hall was gently closed, and the surroundings were silent, with only the candlelight emitting a soft glow.

Seeing Leixier’s weakened state, the three Silver Masked Mages exchanged glances and almost simultaneously removed their masks, revealing the anxious faces hidden beneath the silver.

“Leixier,” a slightly older mage with a steady voice spoke first, “You finally appeared. We couldn’t contact you all this time, and where are Modi and Fulavia?”

Leixier sat quietly in a wheelchair nearby, covered with a thin blanket, appearing even more gaunt than before.

He looked at their familiar faces, a ripple crossing his eyes, like the joy of a long-awaited reunion, yet also like extreme suppressed sorrow. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Seeing his silence, the three looked at each other, their unease growing more apparent.

“They—met with misfortune.” Leixier finally spoke, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

As Leixier slowly narrated the nightmare-like battle in the dense forest, word by word, it was as if even the sound of breathing was gradually drawn from the meeting hall, leaving only the faint crackle of charcoal in the brazier.

Worm Soldiers, corrosive insect fluid, self-detonation, parasitism, comrades killing each other.

One by one, cold and bloody words, like thorns hidden with venomous barbs, slowly emerged from Leixier’s lips, piercing deeply into the nerves of the other three.

The air seemed to freeze, every detail making their eyes tremble.

When he spoke of a Worm Soldier approaching Fulavia and self-detonating, the insect fluid corroding her face, ears, and mouth, and the insect body invading. In just a few breaths, her pupils turned purple, and she then used magic to kill Modi.

The young mage in the corner suddenly stood up, his fists clenched, knuckles white.

“What did you say—?!” His voice trembled, his face showing shock, astonishment, and an incredible rage, “You mean—Fulavia, she was parasitized? She died?”

Leixier nodded, a hint of pain and self-blame in his eyes: “I couldn’t protect her. If I had been more decisive, if I hadn’t hesitated then, perhaps—”

“Shut up!” The young mage growled, his eyes red-rimmed, glaring at him through gritted teeth, as if wanting to force a better outcome from his mouth.

But a few seconds later, he suddenly lowered his head, his shoulders trembling: “No, I’m sorry, it’s me—I shouldn’t have yelled at you—”

“It’s okay.” Leixier shook his head slightly, a bitter smile on his lips, “You have the right to blame me, and I’ve been blaming myself too. Since that day—I think every day, if I could be stronger, if my magic was half a second faster...”

He closed his eyes, his fingertips trembling unconsciously: “But I couldn’t do anything—couldn’t save anything.”

For a moment, the air seemed to solidify.

The lamplight cast faint shadows, enveloping them.

After a long silence, the oldest mage finally spoke: “Leixier, don’t bear it all alone. You are our companion too. We will remember this hatred, this pain, together, and return it to those insects, and those behind them.”

“That’s right,” another female mage said softly, tears welling in her eyes, “It’s already a good thing that you survived.”

Leixier twitched, his throat slightly tight.

He suddenly realized that he wasn’t fighting the nightmare alone.

Silence once again permeated the air, but this time it was not the silence of despair.

The elder Silver Masked Mage slowly stood up, his gaze moving from Leixier’s wheelchair to the closed door, and he whispered, “We must report this immediately. The Worm-Eaten Household is not an ordinary magical beast.

It possesses high intelligence, controls bodies, and can even hide traces. This is no longer a simple ‘missing mission’.”

“Yes,” the female mage nodded, her expression solemn, “Leixier, you’ve done enough to hold on until now. The rest is up to us.”

The elder mage took out a silver feather-patterned emblem from his cloak and gently shook it, and a low hum immediately sounded in the air.

Outside the window, the night sky was like ink, and a magical beast with black feathers all over its body and emerald green eyes fluttered in.

That was the “Night Speaker.”

The black raven used by the Magician Forest to transmit secret messages, rumored to be able to cross blizzards and storms and reach the Mage’s Holy Tower thousands of miles away.

“We’ll use the Night Speaker to send the preliminary report on the Worm-Eaten Household,” he said, attaching the written secret message to the black raven’s leg, “But this is far from enough. The Archmages won’t mobilize resources based on just a few lines of text; they’ll demand evidence, and even personally dispatch an observation team.”

“You mean...” Leixier looked up, hesitation in his eyes.

The female mage gently patted his shoulder, a gentle smile on her face: “You need to come back with us, Leixier. Your condition cannot be healed here.

Injuries to the magical foundation cannot be solved with just a few potions; you must return to headquarters and have an Archmage-level healer personally treat you.”

“But I—” Leixier wanted to say that he still had clues he hadn’t finished explaining, but before the words left his mouth, the young mage had already interrupted him, “You want to stay and help? You can’t even walk steadily.” His tone was still a bit sharp, but no longer as out of control as before, “Right now, your most important task is to live, to bring everything you know back and let the higher-ups hear it.”

Leixier twitched, his gaze falling on his hands.

His palms were still trembling, and his magic pathways were like charred violin strings, faintly humming with pain.

He finally lowered his head and nodded gently.

“Okay, I’ll go back with you.”

“Then it’s settled.” The elder mage waved his hand, and the Night Speaker spread its wings and flew up, snowflakes scattering with each flap, blocked by a magical barrier outside the window.

Before the Silver Masked Mages left, they specifically stopped at the door and bowed deeply to Louis, who was waiting in the corridor.

“Thank you for your hospitality and rescue this time, otherwise Leixier would probably—” The elder’s voice was slightly hoarse, his words filled with sincere gratitude.

“But right now we have nothing to offer you in return, but next time we will definitely bring gifts and pay you a visit.”

Louis stood beneath the corridor pillar, his posture straight, his eyes still holding ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) that inscrutable calm expression.

He merely nodded slightly: “Mm.”

A short syllable, neither warm nor cold, appearing noble and distant.

But only Louis knew that he wasn’t aloof; he was just pretending to be aloof.

After all, “Don’t expose the fact that I taught you magic, remember?”

This was what Leixier had seriously instructed him before the Silver Masked Mages arrived.

“When I return to the Magician Forest, I will formally submit your apprentice application and report the talent test results. Only then can you openly use magic with a legitimate identity, understand?

Otherwise, I’ll be hung up and interrogated all day.”

Louis agreed.

Therefore, he could only maintain his usual composure and aloofness, like an ordinary noble who was simply enthusiastic but uninterested in magic.

Leixier could already walk on his own, though he still appeared gaunt and pale, no longer the festering, delirious mess he had been before.

He wore a grey-blue cloak, his steps slightly slow, yet with a stubbornness that brooked no assistance.

Before getting into the carriage, he looked back at Louis, a forced smile on his lips, then raised his hand and waved at him.

Louis didn’t respond, only nodding slightly.

In fact, he was sighing inwardly: “Alas—the three daily magic lessons are gone. From now on, I’ll have to figure everything out on my own.” He lightly tapped the magic notebook at his waist. That was the magic notebook Leixier had specially left for him to self-study before leaving, with dense annotations showing how much thought he had put into it.

“But it’s fine—the basic framework has been built. The rest, it’s not impossible to figure out on my own.”

Louis looked back at the clear sky in the distance, a barely perceptible curve forming at the corner of his mouth.