Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

The night wind was like a blade, and residual fires still glowed on the snowy ground, the embers of Red Cloud Territory still flickering in the distance.

Louis Calvin flipped onto his horse, not sparing a glance for the ruins that had just been purified by fire and drenched in a rain of corpses.

The column of Red Tide Knights behind him was silent, each person's eyes still reflecting the deep red mushroom cloud of fire when the Mother Nest exploded.

"Next," he said softly, as if to himself, without any emotion.

Dozens of Red Tide Knights rode through the snow, advancing Southeast along the mountain ridge.

The Red Tide Knights remained silent, only the sound of hooves on snow, ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) like heavy war drums, weighed upon everyone's hearts.

"From Black Pine Ridge to Cold Deer Plain, all seven beacon towers have not been lit again," a scout Red Tide Knight galloped back, his brows tightly furrowed. "The Gavin family is completely wiped out. The house crests of Heller and Tawynburg have been torn from the watchtowers, and not even a single Worm-Eaten Household body can be found."

"What about Green Hill Fort?"

"The entire territory was cleared of Worm-Eaten Household bodies within three hours. The Mother Nest built its nest directly in the city center, but the main nest has now moved, its location unknown."

These were all territories near the outskirts of Snowpeak County.

Louis Calvin was silent for a long time, the map of Snowpeak County spread out before him.

The broken valleys and snowy forests, which he had once seen as natural barriers, were now disintegrating one by one.

The frequency of Worm-Eaten Household bodies crossing the rifts was becoming more and more dense, ceaseless day and night.

Louis Calvin was not in a hurry.

He looked up at everyone: "From now on, the Red Tide Legion will enter 'Targeted Rescue Mode.'"

His tone was calm, as if he were facing not the Worm-Eaten Household devouring the North, but a complex chess game.

"Priority one: Strategic Hubs.

Feudal territories with road nodes, mountain pass control, and fortress locations must be preserved."

He pointed out three core nodes: Glacier Canyon, Twilight Ridge Pass, and Green Rock Rift.

"Category two: Loyal Lords.

These individuals participated in the 'Revitalization Fund' and accepted Red Tide armament dispatches, cooperating with our plan. They trust me, and I cannot let them down."

Yoen Harway, Lady Grant, and other names were highlighted, and an aide quietly recorded them.

"Category three: Controllable Factions.

Some new nobles and minor nobles have weak resources, but there is potential for integration. As long as they can be saved, they will be part of the future Red Tide system."

He looked at the Southeast corner of the map, where a string of weak but not yet fallen territories were clustered.

"Lastly: Non-Cooperators.

Nobles who disregarded orders, attempted to break away from command, or retreated without authorization. Mark their survival probability; no active rescue."

His voice had no ripple, as if he were not discussing human lives, but a resource allocation.

"Red Tide forces are limited, Magic Bomb stock is insufficient. We are not gods. We cannot save everyone.

What I must ensure is that this land still exists after the war; that the common people can still survive—"

With the plan set, Louis Calvin's team began to move tirelessly from place to place.

"Everyone into the cellar, don't make a sound!"

Yoen Harway pressed down on the child who was about to cry out, staring at him with a compelling gaze, his lips almost touching the child's ear as he whispered, "If you don't want to die, shut up."

The child nodded, whimpering, while Yoen Harway himself was barely able to control himself.

His whole body felt like it was submerged in ice water, his fingertips long since too stiff to grip his sword, his chest heaving violently, almost gasping for breath.

Outside, there was a "crunching" sound, whether it was the Worm-Eaten Household gnawing on the door or someone's bones finally giving way, he didn't know.

A scream suddenly came from a distance, then was abruptly swallowed by something.

It was exactly like hell opening its mouth.

Yoen Harway covered his mouth, pressing himself tightly against the wall.

He had once been the favored son of the imperial capital's aristocratic circles, the wealthiest noble scion.

He rode with a golden saddle, his sword hilt adorned with jewels, and every appearance he made caused noble ladies to vie for his attention.

Now, he was hiding in a musty cellar, his hair unwashed, his armor torn into rags.

"What was I even thinking—"

He gritted his teeth, cursing himself under his breath, wishing he could travel back in time to slap his past self, who had volunteered last winter to "take up a post in the North to prove myself."

Wouldn't being a decorative noble, living a life of idleness in the imperial capital, have been better?

He had thought it would be at most a job of dealing with a few unruly commoners or distributing grain to his people. He never imagined that upon arriving in the North, he would face one crisis after another: first, the Snowsworn rebels, who nearly drove him mad, then the winter without food, which almost froze half his territory's population to death.

Now, to top it all off, the Worm-Eaten Household had arrived, completely different from the "gilding experience in the North" he had imagined!

Yoen Harway glanced at the sagging cellar ceiling; the sound of the Worm-Eaten Household outside was close, as if they could burst in at any moment.

He then looked at the woman huddled in the corner. She had been with him since the imperial capital, her face pale, her body weak.

"If reinforcements don't come soon, we're all going to die," he murmured softly.

This was the first time the thought, "Perhaps, this is the end of my life," had seriously crossed his mind.

He really wanted to cry, knowing the chances of someone coming to rescue him were extremely low, though a vague figure lingered in his mind.

But just then, a deafening explosion echoed from afar—

Like a volcanic eruption, yet also like the roar of thunder.

The entire cellar trembled slightly.

The hissing of the Worm-Eaten Household suddenly weakened.

Yoen Harway's eyes widened, his whole body stiff.

Then, the next second, he frantically scrambled to the cellar entrance, peering through a crack at the sky outside.

Amidst the firelight, the golden Red Tide sun banner slowly rose on the distant hillside.

Boom—!

A towering pillar of fire rose from the East, flames coiling like enraged dragons, engulfing the besieging Worm-Eaten Household bodies.

Then, the second and third Magic Bombs landed precisely, thick smoke and raging flames cutting the entire besieged area into several scorching "fire rings."

"Is that... a Magic Bomb?!"

"It's the Red Tide Army! The Red Tide flag!"

Someone exclaimed.

And Yoen Harway stared intently at the figure emerging from the flames.

Clad in red and black battle robes, his black hair burning like snow in the firelight, he carried a longsword, arriving with wind, snow, and furious flames.

"It's the boss! It's Lord Louis—!!!"

Yoen Harway, overcome with excitement, burst out of the cellar on the spot, scrambling and stumbling to throw himself at Lord Louis's leg, embracing him.

"Boss! I knew you wouldn't abandon me!"

"You remember when we were kids training in the imperial capital, and you pushed me into a cesspit to skip class? I knew then you weren't a bad person, wuwuwuwuwu—"

Lord Louis's eye twitched.

He unceremoniously kicked him away: "Calm down, you smell too strong."

"I still have other territories to rescue. You immediately take your people and the remaining Red Tide Knights and evacuate, heading towards Red Tide Territory.

Any later, and you'll need me to rescue you a second time."

Yoen Harway covered his face, having been kicked back a meter, but getting up, he felt even more moved: "Wuwuwu, Boss, you're still so handsome, I really am too..."

"Go!"

Lord Louis barked, and the entire flame-throwing squad quickly changed formation, clearing the remaining Worm-Eaten Household bodies on the East side, while he himself led the Red Tide Knights towards the next direction of firelight.

Yoen Harway watched the receding figure, then suddenly gritted his teeth and roared in a low voice: "Listen up, everyone! We're leaving! Back to Red Tide! Whoever dares to fall behind on the way, I'll personally cleave them apart!"

"From today onwards! I, Yoen Harway, will wholeheartedly follow the boss! Whoever speaks ill of Lord Louis, I'll be the first to rush forward and fight to the death!"

"Go!!!"

Next stop: Noteburg.

When the Red Tide banner rose on the mountaintop, what met Lord Louis's eyes was not a welcoming formation of Red Tide Knights, but a charred ruin devoured by the Worm-Eaten Household.

Stone walls had collapsed, battle flags were burned, and wind and snow swept through the spores swirling in the air. The scent of burnt wood mixed with blood permeated the atmosphere.

"...You can't tell this was once a complete Noteburg Territory," Lambert murmured.

Louis Calvin said nothing. He simply raised a hand: "Fire attack squad, begin cleanup. Flamethrower teams advance by sector, pay attention to areas with concentrated spore sacs."

The moment the command was given, flames cut through the thick fog, and flamethrowers roared, incinerating large numbers of Worm-Eaten Household into charcoal.

The Magic Bomb throwing squad immediately followed up with a second wave of explosive cleansing. The Worm-Eaten Household scattered, writhed, and wailed in the firelight, like a rift to hell.

Twenty minutes later, the battlefield fell silent.

"Survivors found!"

Someone shouted.

From a hidden cellar passage at the rear of the fortress, a dozen Red Tide Knights, covered in blood and with damaged armor, were brought out.

Their faces were pale, their eyes vacant, like lost souls dragged back from purgatory.

Louis Calvin walked forward. One man saw him and murmured, "It's—it's the Red Tide Lord, Lord Louis Calvin—are we still alive?"

Louis Calvin did not reply. He looked at the Red Tide Knight and asked, "What happened to Noteburg Territory?"

The Red Tide Knight knelt, trembling all over: "Lord Edward—he abandoned the city and fled before the Mother Nest approached. We were left behind—we couldn't hold the west gate, many brothers—died."

Another person gritted his teeth and added: "He escaped through a tunnel with his personal guards and gold, but was blocked by Worm-Eaten Household bodies at the valley entrance. Not even his cape was saved."

"We tried to hold the cellar, lasted three days on hardtack and snow water until you came."

Hearing this, Louis Calvin finally spoke: "Is Edward dead?"

The man nodded: "I saw him with my own eyes, surrounded by Worm-Eaten Household bodies—a dignified Transcendent Red Tide Knight, torn to shreds—"

Louis Calvin was silent for a moment, his gaze sweeping over them.

"Are you willing to stay?"

"With this sword, I swear allegiance to Red Tide." The leading Red Tide Knight slowly drew his sword and held it up with both hands.

Immediately after, all the surviving Red Tide Knights knelt, the firelight reflecting their charred and scarred bodies, but also illuminating their loyalty forged in near-death.

"Very good," Louis Calvin nodded. "From today onwards, you are Red Tide Knights, under Lambert's command."

He turned and ordered the flamethrower squad: "Clear all Worm-Eaten Household remnants, thoroughly incinerate the west district's battle nest, and block the Mother Nest's regression path."

Then he mounted his warhorse and said coldly, "Prepare to turn towards Grant Fort, departing by night."

Grant Fort was located in a deep, secluded, and almost forgotten valley in the northern part of the North.

There weren't many Worm-Eaten Household bodies, but they were enough to torment this small feudal territory, leaving it on the verge of collapse.

Amidst the ruined walls, Lady Grant stood on the half-collapsed battlements, watching the small tide of Worm-Eaten Household emerging from the forest in the distance, her lips already bitten raw.

Her armor was covered in scratches, and her body was wrapped in blood-stained rags, making her look more like an injured refugee than a noblewoman.

"Reinforcements... won't come," she whispered to herself.

She had written three pleas for help, using all her seals and credit, but they had vanished like a stone in the sea, not even a bird returning.

Half of her soldiers were dead, and the medicine and food in the city would only last three days.

Even with just a dozen Worm-Eaten Household bodies, each night raid felt like a countdown to death.

She understood her position; the Grant family had been in decline for years, one of the "nominal" minor nobles listed by the Empire.

In the eyes of the great nobles, she wasn't even considered a "worthwhile rescue" target.

So when she stood before the last stone wall, holding a broken longsword, she was already prepared—

If that thing truly broke in, she would personally set fire to the granary and library, then perish with the enemy.

But at that very moment, a sound of hooves came from over the mountain.

The wind carried a scent of flame, followed by rolling dust and the orderly, solemn blast of a horn.

She froze.

The next instant, the golden sun banner, symbolizing Red Tide, rose in the fierce wind.

Louis Calvin, leading dozens of fire attack Red Tide Knights and a tactical command unit, appeared directly before her.

"Madam," he dismounted, his voice steady and solemn, "I will send people to clear the remaining Worm-Eaten Household. Your soldiers should retreat first.

Go to Red Tide Territory; I will arrange unified accommodation for you."

She stared at him, for a moment not even knowing what to say.

Tears suddenly streamed down her face. She stared at him intently, her voice trembling: "...You really came. Even us—you're saving us?"

She covered her mouth, almost crying out loud.

Louis Calvin, however, merely nodded slightly, his tone still calm: "Those who are still alive should go to Red Tide Territory first. The rest, leave to me."

As Louis Calvin continued his rescues, a brief moment of clear sky finally appeared over Snowpeak County.

But as Lord Louis rode his horse and stood on a high ridge, looking into the distance, there was no relief in his heart.

The wind swept across the plains, carrying the scent of scorched earth and blood. They had been fighting for six consecutive days, crisscrossing, battling, and force-marching from Red Cloud Territory, rescuing one collapsing feudal territory after another.

But the further he went, the colder the path became, and the more desolate the scenery.

Several once-renowned old noble territories were now nothing but broken snow sculpture towers and torn house crest banners, ripped apart by Worm-Eaten Household bodies, hanging in mid-air.

Louis Calvin dismounted and stepped into the shattered castle, his torch sweeping through the shadows.

The floor had collapsed, the walls were charred, and the corpses had long since dried. Worm-Eaten Household egg sacs, like swollen mushrooms, were built throughout the halls.

At that moment, he was silent, only ordering his men to collect the house crests, and then setting the entire ruin ablaze.

"Let it become a true tombstone," he said.

In another camp, the pioneer nobles from the South were already weeping uncontrollably.

"You saved us."

"We thought the entire North was finished."

"From now on, the Red Tide flag is our royal flag!"

They knelt in the muddy snow, their robes stained with blood and mud, yet without a care, simply clutching at Louis Calvin's clothes, repeating their vows as if grasping their only straw of hope.

They had once been nobles, possessing pride, authority, and a self-centered perspective.

But now, they were merely survivors of a disaster.

And this man—this young Lord who emerged from blood and fire—had ridden through the snow, one territory after another, when the entire Empire fell silent.

It was he who pierced the night with his flamethrower squad, he who bore the weight of every plea for help, he who, regardless of origin or cost, brought the hope of "survival" to one feudal territory after another.

In the following ten days, Louis Calvin's banner seemed to tirelessly traverse every snow valley and ravine of Snowpeak County.

He personally led charges on horseback, crossing ice cliffs, passing through withered forests where Worm-Eaten Household had nested, leading the Red Tide Knights and fire attack squads, tearing one besieged city after another back from the spore pulp and Worm-Eaten Household.

Whenever the golden Red Tide sun banner rose, it was like a ray of light tearing through the heavens.

Sometimes, it was survivors hiding underground who heard the Red Tide horn and crawled crying from sealed cellars.

Sometimes, it was a young boy fallen in the snow who saw Louis Calvin cleave Worm-Eaten Household with his sword, his eyes filled with longing.

Sometimes, hundreds of soldiers knelt in unison before broken walls, raising their swords and swearing to him: "From now on, we pledge our lives to Red Tide! We will fight for you—fight for our Lord!"

Of course, more often, he could only see empty ruins.