Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

Louis slowly opened his eyes, and the familiar wooden ceiling of Red Tide City came into view.

“I’m back.”

As his consciousness gradually cleared, the tension that had weighed on his chest throughout the journey finally dissipated.

Soft sensations and gentle breathing sounds came from his sides.

On his left and right, Sif and Emily clung tightly to him like two octopuses.

Silver and blue hair intertwined in the bedding, their cheeks flushed with a faint blush, their breathing warm, and their expressions relaxed, seemingly still immersed in the afterglow of last night's reunion.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, indeed.

Louis chuckled softly, his fingertips caressing the strands of Emily’s hair on her shoulder, then touching the fine hairs near Sif’s earlobe.

But now was not the time to indulge in the tender embrace.

He moved his body with minimal motion, subtly withdrawing his arms like a sneaking fugitive, without waking them.

He exhaled, slowly raised his hand, and made a gesture in the air.

“Daily Intelligence System activated.”

Accompanied by a low hum, a blue-white translucent interface emerged from the void.

Information appeared like raindrops, glowing with a cool light, quickly arranging itself:

【Daily Intelligence Update Complete】

【1: The Despair Witch has been transformed into a “Doomsday Seed” and is currently dormant in the deep crust, expected to awaken in 10 years.】

【2: Titus Frostflame has taken advantage of the Mother Nest’s chaos to unify the remaining Han Yue Tribe, proclaiming himself “Lord of Northfrost.” His expansionist intentions are clear, with the goal likely being the integration of the northern barbarian communities.】

【3: The Magician Forest’s follow-up investigation mage group has already departed for the north.】

His originally tired face instantly cleared.

“She’s not completely dead?” His fingertips suddenly paused, and his brows furrowed into a frown. He had personally witnessed the Doomsday Mother Nest collapse into the earth’s core amidst flames and gravity.

Yet, the source of this war, the Despair Witch who had almost destroyed the entire North, was still alive, even if only as a “seed.”

“Damn thing,” his heart sank for a moment.

But then, his gaze fell on the line about awakening in 10 years, and his emotions slowly subsided.

“...Ten years,” he muttered to himself, “Then I still have ten years—enough time to prepare.”

Since there was no more detailed intelligence, he could only rely on his future strength.

If the Daily Intelligence System could provide the Despair Witch’s location in the future, he would immediately take Magic Bombs and scatter her ashes.

Next was the second item, Titus Frostflame’s unification of the remaining Han Yue Tribe during the chaos, which made Louis’s brows furrow again.

“...Titus.”

He was somewhat familiar with this name, having appeared several times in the Daily Intelligence System. Louis remembered that he was the one who poisoned Sif’s father; he was a brutal and cunning wolf-like character.

The Han Yue Tribe was one of the most combat-capable nomadic tribes in the northern wilderness.

After Sif’s father died in battle and the tribe disintegrated, the name that should have faded into obscurity was now unified by Titus due to the chaos caused by the Mother Nest.

What was even more terrifying was that his ambition did not stop there.

If he could truly integrate the northern barbarians, then there would be no more barrier in the north.

The North had just lost four-fifths of its population, noble lineages were broken, fortresses shattered, and the Imperial legions suffered heavy losses. Now, if the barbarian allied forces marched south again, even Frost Halberd City might not be able to withstand a second disaster.

“I need to accelerate troop preparations. Military and political systems, knight training, border fortresses—everything needs to be initiated ahead of schedule,” Louis muttered to himself.

He looked up at the light screen, shaking his head with a bitter smile.

“Can’t the North just be peaceful for one year?”

The next piece of information slightly eased his brow: the Magician Forest’s follow-up investigation mage group had already departed for the north.

Before returning to Red Tide Territory, he had a brief conversation with the being known as the “Supreme Mage” in Frost Halberd City.

The other party was quite interested in him.

At the time, Louis didn’t hide anything, directly expressing his desire to “join the Magician Forest.”

The Magician Forest, the most mysterious organization in the world, housed countless books, rigorous theories, and even an endless stream of magic spells.

Unfortunately, the threshold for entry was extremely high.

Logically, for a “wild mage” like him to join, he would at least have to go to the Magician Forest headquarters, undergo three rounds of screening tests, a one-year probationary period, and finally complete a soul contract and ritual vow.

But the Supreme Mage merely smiled faintly: “With the North in this state, do you still want to follow the process? A qualification assessment team will accompany them then.”

Louis looked at the light screen, already having a plan in mind.

The arrival of the mage group would not only help deal with the residual magma essence contamination from the Mother Nest; for him, it was an opportunity to go with the flow.

“If the test passes—”

He muttered, tapping the table gently with his fingertips, “Then I will be a legitimate member of the Magician Forest, and those spells I could only secretly learn before can now be used openly.”

Louis closed the interface, and the blue-white intelligence screen dissipated, turning into a wisp of light dust and vanishing into the air.

Morning light streamed in from outside, but the room remained silent, with only the even breathing of his two wives coming from the warm covers.

He quietly got out of bed, put on his robe, walked to the window, and pushed open a corner.

A cool breeze brushed his face; the morning in Red Tide Territory was pristine.

But he did not linger, immediately sitting in his usual position, lowering his gaze, crossing his legs, and beginning his daily cultivation.

His cultivation had been somewhat neglected during the war; he had to pick it up again.

Louis sat cross-legged, and with each breath, his qi and blood vibrated, slowly guiding the flow of power within his body.

“Tidal Breathing Technique,” he murmured.

His breathing was like the tide, rising and falling with rhythm.

Each inhalation felt like the ocean surging into his chest, and each exhalation was like a powerful ebb tide, carrying away waste gases and fatigue from his body. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Dou Qi circulated through his meridians, blood flow accelerated, bones felt slightly warm, and meridians expanded as if being forged.

This Breath Control Technique was not flashy, but it allowed him to make steady progress daily.

The light of Dou Qi within his body brightened slightly. He opened his eyes, feeling a little relieved, yet also a bit helplessly smiling.

“My bloodline has been strengthened several times; it’s no longer the useless aptitude it once was, but—it’s not top-tier.”

He knew that to become a truly extraordinary knight, this pace was far from enough.

“I hope the Daily Intelligence System can yield some rare cultivation resources someday.”

He gently exhaled a warm breath, then closed his eyes, re-entering a meditative state.

This time, it was for magic.

“Original Meditation Technique.”

His consciousness sank into the mental ocean; all external noise instantly vanished.

He saw the rune quietly suspended in the depths of his mind, like a primitive runic heart, beating slowly.

Magic power began to flow.

It wasn’t forced absorption, nor was it a devouring infusion, but rather a resonance, a “frequency-matched” communication.

The free-floating magic power in the air was gently drawn in, naturally surging into his mind like a tide.

The entire process was smooth and serene, yet several times faster than traditional meditation techniques.

“Although there’s still a gap to become a true Archmage of the Magician Forest, I should be able to catch up in about two years.”

He could feel that his magic power had quietly crossed a threshold.

By the time Louis opened his eyes, the sky outside was already bright.

He didn’t experience the conventional morning tranquility; instead, he realized that two familiar presences were already by his side—one on his left, one on his right, silver-white and sea-blue.

Sif sat with her knees hugged, leaning against the wall by the door, her gaze fixed on him.

Her hair tips were still damp with morning dew; she had clearly woken up without disturbing him, choosing instead to sit and quietly wait.

Emily had already risen and changed into her clothes, still in a dignified light blue dress, her soft hair adorned with a silver feather accessory.

She quietly held his coat, looking at him gently.

“Are you done cultivating?” Emily asked softly, her voice carrying a long-lost lightness.

“Mm.” Louis exhaled the last of his breath, slowly stood up, stretched his limbs, his eyes still holding some of the focused concentration from his cultivation.

Sif pouted: “You finally decided to wake up. It’s been two hours already.”

Her tone was sharp, her words unsparing, yet the moment he stood up, she walked over and casually straightened his slightly wrinkled collar, her movements very gentle.

The three shared some intimate moments, then left the bedroom and went to the dining ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) room.

On the table were steaming smoked fish soup, rye bread, and pickled Two-Headed Bears meat, a specialty of Red Tide Territory.

The meal was not luxurious, but in the current North, it was considered abundant.

“While you were away,” Emily said, pouring him tea, “Sif and I primarily managed the affairs of Red Tide Territory, with Bradley assisting. Nothing major went wrong.

We’ve already distributed the received refugees among the various territories according to the plan you left. During your absence, Sif, Bradley, and I basically worked in three shifts, coordinating resources day and night.”

Sif picked up a piece of meat and snorted: “If I hadn’t hung the heads of those few minor nobles from the South who dared to hoard supplies on the watchtower, people would probably still be muttering, ‘Everyone might not survive this winter.’”

Louis bit into a piece of bear meat, his tone suddenly becoming serious: “Is the territory’s grain supply still holding up?”

Emily frowned slightly at his words and shook her head.

“Without external aid, we’ll have to start reducing rations in a month,” Sif sighed. “It’s a good thing you arranged for us to prioritize harvesting the early-ripening crops earlier; otherwise, we might already be starving.”

“What did the Calvin Family say?” Louis turned his head to look at Emily.

Emily nodded: “I finally received a reply to the letter I sent in your name. The Calvin Family promised to allocate grain convoys, to be delivered to the Red Tide Territory border within a week, which should sustain us at the minimum standard for the entire winter.”

Sif shrugged and added: “In short, we won’t starve to death. But don’t expect to eat your fill.”

Louis bit the spoon handle, nodding lightly, seemingly in thought: “I’ll think of something else—”

After the meal, Louis didn’t linger, standing up, putting on his robe, and walking silently to his office.

“I’m going to the office,” he said softly, looking back. Emily nodded.

Pushing open the heavy oak door, the familiar scent of books mixed with fine dust wafted towards him.

Under the dim lamplight, the long table piled with topographic maps and statistical documents seemed to have been waiting for him for a long time.

The old butler, Bradley, was already standing to one side, his expression serious, hands clasped behind his back.

“Welcome back, my Lord.”

Louis nodded, saying little, merely sitting down, rolling up his sleeves, and contemplating the crisis before him.

He took a deep breath and wrote down the first heavy phrase on the paper: Food Crisis.

Originally, Red Tide Territory’s granaries could comfortably last through a winter.

But now, the refugees pouring in from all directions had disrupted this balance.

“Originally, we could feed ten thousand people through winter; now we need to feed fifty thousand,” he murmured.

He had thought about refusing.

But in front of those faces desperate to live, he ultimately couldn’t say, “We can’t afford it.”

“Save one if you can.” That was his decision at the time.

The cost came with it.

“Currently, reduced rations can last fifteen days; after that, people will start to starve,” he frowned.

“Fortunately, the Calvin Family has promised to send relief grain. Although not abundant, it will at least prevent people from starving to death.”

Bradley stood by, adding softly: “However, my Lord, that amount of grain is only enough to survive. If you want the populace to have a decent winter, I’m afraid we’ll need to find other solutions.”

Louis paused on the paper, then wrote the second line:

“Plan A: Develop heated greenhouses, activate the Red Tide geothermal trial planting project.”

A glint of light appeared in his eyes.

As early as last year, he had experimented with geothermal greenhouse cultivation in Red Tide Territory, and although it was a small-scale experiment, the results were surprisingly good.

With stable geothermal veins, suitable soil, and temperature control aided by geothermal heat, they actually managed to harvest a batch of grain even in winter.

“If that system can be popularized, we can grow food even in winter.”

Louis paused his pen, then added: “Red Tide underground geothermal vein map to be re-verified, with the engineering team and geomancers jointly constructing the greenhouse framework. Goal: Initiate the first batch of pilot projects within three days, recruit refugee labor teams, and exchange labor for grain.”

He looked up at Bradley, his eyes firm.

“These people—they can’t just be ‘sheltered’; they must become a part of Red Tide Territory. Let them work, farm, eat what they grow themselves; they will feel more secure.”

Bradley nodded slightly: “Easy to arrange, my Lord. There’s plenty of land now, waiting for people to cultivate.”

“No matter how poor we are, we cannot rely solely on charity,” Louis murmured.

He knew very well that once the refugees developed a dependency on “waiting for handouts,” no amount of warehouses would sustain them through this winter.

And involving them in reconstruction was not only about saving labor and conserving grain but also about restoring their dignity to live.

He wrote: “Work-point system to return, allowing work hours to be exchanged for grain during winter, reactivating the Red Tide Righteous Field Law. Let them know that they are not being ‘pitifully’ taken in, but rather, because they are hardworking and capable, they deserve to live in Red Tide.”

He picked up his pen and wrote the third item.

“Plan B: Exchange magma essence gold coins for grain through the Calvin Merchant Guild, for emergency allocation.”

“Exchanging gold coins for food is better than starving to death,” Louis muttered.

Bradley, sitting nearby, nodded slightly in agreement: “That is indeed a solution. After all, our foundation over these years—it’s not thin.”

“Besides magma essence, we also sell Two-Headed Bears meat, specialty smoked fish, cold iron ore, and several local medicinal herbs. Everything that can be transported is being sold,” Bradley said softly.

“Mm.” Louis remembered very clearly.

Red Tide Territory’s treasury, though not a mountain of gold and silver like the imperial nobles, had quietly expanded before this upheaval.

The mining rights for magma essence, high-premium contracts with merchant guilds, and various sales networks for northern specialties. Moreover, he also controlled the Calvin Merchant Guild, which allowed Red Tide Territory’s products to be sold preferentially, quickly converting them into gold coins and other resources.

Louis didn’t ponder for long, blurting out to Bradley: “Prioritize three batches: mainly staple foods, long storage period, suitable for the northern climate.”

Bradley nodded: “I will arrange it.”

As Louis wrote the fourth line, his pen paused on the paper for a moment.

“Plan C: Use the Daily Intelligence System to search for leftover granaries and hidden village grain reserves.”

He did not vocalize this item.

In fact, the Daily Intelligence System had intermittently provided some similar material resources.

Those forgotten granaries, old houses sealed at the edge of the mountains, emergency caves between rock crevices, noble secret cellars—these also represented a large amount of grain and supplies. He would send knights to retrieve these forgotten resources, which could also help many people survive.