Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

The rules of the mining area not only offered many benefits but also imposed severe penalties.

Once, a support team, in their submitted blueprints, actually omitted data for several pile positions.

That day, Valentine, holding the overlooked support drawing, stood solemnly in front of the mine’s drawing board, quietly waiting for a full hour.

The miners didn't know what had happened, but no one dared to speak.

Only after that shift of workers had ascended and left did Valentine speak in a deep voice: "Did you clearly see this section? Several pieces of data were not drawn. Did no one notice? Did no one check?"

As soon as his voice fell, silence immediately descended.

His face was ashen, and he heavily pasted the drawing onto the board wall at the shaft entrance, reprimanding them with every word clear and unforgiving:

"Unstandardized technical drawings are not just misspellings; they are writing names on tombstones!"

For a moment, the entire mining area seemed enveloped in a chill, remaining silent for a long while.

Later, Kyle privately learned that the problematic support drawing had been picked out by Lord Louis himself from over thirty pages of dense records.

He flipped through it again and again, without saying a single wasted word, only frowning slightly, and then writing two words with his pen—"Lecture."

This made everyone understand that Lord Louis's management of the mining area was extremely strict; not even the slightest oversight could escape his eyes.

Therefore, no one dared to be careless, and they all cherished this hard-won job and order.

The mining area was operating in an orderly manner under this system of scientific and reasonable welfare guarantees combined with strict rewards and punishments.

Of course, this did not mean that everything went smoothly.

In the central fault section, within the Ninth Mining Ring, Team Three was pushing forward with their work.

It was a seemingly calm and structurally intact rock layer.

After the team technician confirmed there were no obvious cracks on the rock face, they inserted a Magic Bomb according to the blueprint, connected the wires, and quickly retreated to a safe bend.

"Ignite—"

The fuse was lit, the bomb activated, and after a low muffled thud, shattered rocks flew.

However, the next second, from deep within the rock layer that should have collapsed, a dark opening suddenly caved in.

As if some void-like "cavity" was hidden inside.

"...Something's not right!" The team leader was about to raise his hand to warn when a metallic, icy light suddenly emanated from the ground.

Click.

A spider-like creature silently slid out of a mining seam.

Its entire body was crystal clear, its carapace reflective, like polished crystal, and its six limbs were long and sharp, with barbs, emitting a dry, piercing metallic scraping sound as it crawled.

"It's a magical beast!!!" Someone exclaimed in a lost voice, but no sooner had the sound fallen than several more quicksilver-like figures burst from the hole, rapidly occupying various parts of the passage.

Eight Mirror-Gall Spiders.

Their crystalline carapaces constantly refracted and disrupted the light from the torches, plunging the entire tunnel into a "blurred light domain" in the blink of an eye.

The torches seemed to be covered with layers of ripples, their light becoming chaotic, and the craftsmen instantly lost their sense of direction.

"Don't run around, retreat towards the supports!" the foreman roared.

But it was too late.

As one young craftsman turned, a Mirror-Gall Spider's sharp limb pierced his chest, blood gushing onto the mine wall, splattering a bright red. Another tried to ignite a spare Magic Bomb to defend, but in the chaotic light domain, the fuse misfired, and as he raised the kindling stick, a spider limb penetrated his rear skull.

Screams and crashing sounds echoed through the tunnel, and in less than a minute, the entire team of craftsmen was torn apart and dragged away one by one amidst the light mist and confusion.

Finally, only a fallen miner's lamp remained, flickering faintly at the blood-stained mine entrance.

Hours later, the inspector who came to patrol stood at the passage, his face ashen.

The magical beasts were long gone, only the mottled bloodstains, twisted tools, and torn, gnawed miner's jackets remained, proving that Team Three had once existed there.

This was the Starforge Territory's first "magical beast attack leading to the annihilation of a team" incident in its history.

When the news reached the administrative office, night had not yet fully fallen.

Lord Louis listened to the report expressionlessly, only briefly ordering: "Seal the main passage of the Ninth Mining Ring. Mobilize the knight squad; descend into the mine within three minutes."

Less than five minutes after the order was issued, the rescue department quickly completed its preparations.

Twelve Red Tide Knights appeared at the main shaft entrance, clad in red plate armor, holding long spears.

"Form two four-person combat units. The outer four will provide reconnaissance and cover, with alternating searchlights—prepare to descend."

Valentine stood by the shaft, watching these knights efficiently equip themselves and enter the mine, only then letting out a slight sigh of relief: "If they had been in the mine just now, perhaps it wouldn't have happened like that."

Underground, as soon as the lighting penetrated the affected fault passage, a cold light suddenly illuminated the front.

The torchlight reflected off the four walls, revealing the entire tunnel sealed by dense, silvery threads—they interwoven like steel wires, layering themselves around the rock walls, supports, and cavities, emitting a faint cold glow, like a spider-woven tomb shroud.

"It's a magical spider web," the deputy captain narrowed his eyes, his voice extremely low.

"Cut through it, advance," the captain's order was unwavering.

"Prepare! Open umbrella formation!"

The knights in the front row gripped their battle axes, and a crimson battle qi emanated from their shoulders, instantly wrapping around their weapons.

Flames ignited the axe blades, radiating a scorching hot glow. "Break!"

With the first swing of the axe, the blazing blade created a hot vortex, scorching the spider silk inch by inch, burning it through while also forcing out several bright cutting planes from the surrounding light.

At the moment the spider silk broke, several sliding cold shadows suddenly flashed in the depths of the distant passage, darting across the rock walls like quicksilver, moving extremely fast.

The Mirror-Gall Spiders appeared.

Their bodies were slender, their leg-spikes sharp as hooks, and they moved silently as they crawled.

Their crystalline carapaces reflected the surrounding torchlight, instantly scattering several blurred illusions, making it difficult to discern their true positions.

"Light domain disturbance, be careful!"

A reconnaissance knight had just shouted out when a spider illusion blade suddenly flashed beside him; he instinctively raised his shield.

But he found it was merely an illusion, and the real Mirror-Gall Spider emerged from beneath the ground, attempting to pierce his chest.

Bang!

A shield-bearing knight took a step sideways, his massive shield crashing forward, smashing the spider against the mine wall, its crystalline shell cracking with a dry, hissing sound.

"Second formation, push forward!"

The knights quickly changed formation, their triangular formation tightening, creating a cross-strike zone in the narrow tunnel.

Another knight strode forward, swinging his halberd, crimson battle qi wrapping around the halberd tip like a bloodline, sweeping with an arc of flame, cutting two Mirror-Gall Spiders clinging to the wall in half.

Boom—!

Every clash was accompanied by the screech of metal friction and the muffled thud of breaking spider limbs.

Though the Mirror-Gall Spiders were agile and swift, they found it difficult to leverage their advantages against organized armed combat units.

They attempted to disperse and escape but ran into the knights' pre-set "blind spots" at the corners, falling one by one.

In less than five minutes, the battle concluded.

Silence returned to the tunnel, with only the softly burning residual battle qi flickering faintly between the rock walls.

More than a dozen spider corpses lay sprawled on the ground, their crystalline carapaces riddled with cracks, and icy blue bodily fluid seeping from the ruptures slowly flowed along the rock surface, eventually solidifying into tiny crystalline points, like frost, on the ground.

"Confirmed, all are medium-sized sub-adults, no venom glands. Estimated to have hatched in a nearby cavity; there should be more, not just stragglers," the scout concluded.

"These things could actually be handled by a single official Qi Knight," a young knight said, retrieving his spear, a hint of disdain in his voice.

The deputy captain didn't turn around, only coldly uttered: "But craftsmen are not knights; any single magical spider can take their lives."

Indeed, this small-scale battle posed no difficulty for the knights.

But for the defenseless and unorganized miners, it was an unresisted massacre.

On the third day after the accident, the cold morning wind had not yet dispersed, but the walls of all major mining areas in the Starforge Territory were already covered with new announcements.

Few words, but each was firm:

"Effective today, in all active mine shafts within the Starforge Territory, a 'Vibration Detection Pillar' shall be installed every thirty meters to detect signs of abnormal biological activity."

"No personnel are permitted to enter the mine alone; violators will immediately cease work and be reassigned from their current team."

"Before commencing work each day, a knight must lead a patrol to confirm the absence of lurking dangers before mining can begin."

Of course, most miners were illiterate, so a public speaker announced the news.

"What does this mean?" a young miner slave stood in front of the announcement, bewildered. "That 'pillar' thing, I've never even heard of it."

"It's normal that you don't understand," a middle-aged foreman next to him shook his head. "I don't understand either, but there are so many rules."

That these miners paid little mind was also within Lord Louis’s expectations, and to make them truly understand that these rules were not just for intimidation, Lord Louis personally ordered the establishment of a "Mining Affairs Lecture Day."

Several literate technicians and officials would go into the sheds, dormitories, and canteens outside the shaft entrance after work hours, taking turns explaining the new rules.

These lectures not only covered "how to do" but also "why."

They used direct, crude analogies to explain "how vibrations indicate magical beast activity," "how air changes after a tunnel is sealed," and even what "abnormal sound waves" were.

"You miners are like tapping on the floor under a dog's nest," Valentine personally stood on the lecture platform in the Seventh Mining Ring, pointing to the shaft entrance. "If there's some beast nested up underneath, and you tap its head, it will naturally jump out and bite people."

Someone below was amused, but as they laughed, they quieted down, because Valentine's expression was too serious.

"Laugh if you want, but your lives are your own," Valentine looked at everyone. "If you don't believe these methods are for saving lives, then forget the names of those brothers who died."

At that moment, the atmosphere was so heavy it was almost suffocating.

Most of these workers came from humble backgrounds, could barely read a few words, and certainly had no concept of "safety awareness," but they understood reality.

When they repeatedly heard, "Someone is specifically responsible for checking for hidden dangers," "entering the mine alone will cause the entire team to be suspended," and "once the vibration pillar alarms, everyone must evacuate," they finally understood:

This was not to trouble them; Lord Louis was doing it to help them live longer.

They began to learn to cooperate; even if they complained, they no longer dared to act recklessly.

Before starting work each day, the miners stood together, listening to the technician read out the day's reports and risky sections; this was now a daily necessity. Even a knight would walk at the very front, only allowing people into the mine after confirming everything was clear.

Unbeknownst to them, the miners' perspectives were shifting.

They learned the rules, understood the system, and, more importantly, grasped this point:

This place was a place for people to live, not a mine pit to await death.

Most people began to try to cooperate, even if they complained, they no longer dared to act recklessly.

In the underground tunnels, the practice of "line-up patrols" appeared for the first time.

Before starting work each day, the miners stood together, listening to the technician read out the day's reports and risky sections.

But not everyone initially agreed with these new rules.

Some grumbled: "More rules and inspections. All this trouble, it's better to go down early and mine an extra cart of stone."

Of course, some, to be lazy and save effort, bypassed the warning area and went down the shaft alone to mine early.

The first time someone broke the rule, that person was publicly named and transferred from the main operating team to the outermost abandoned mining area, cleaning waste and muddy water while watching his companions ascend to collect their wages and eat hot meals.

"Want to gamble with your life? Then stay away from others, don't drag them down."

This is what Valentine said during his lecture at the shaft entrance, his voice not loud, but clear enough for everyone to hear.

After several rounds of punishment, no one dared to act recklessly anymore.

Even those miners who had most resisted the rules bowed their heads.

They began to accept the rules, understand the system, and realize that these were not meant to restrict them, but to save their lives.

Meanwhile, a group of knights personally visited the homes of the deceased craftsmen, delivering a condolence payment, three official documents, and a letter of mourning to their families.

One miner's wife cried out in grief, kneeling on the ground, refusing to accept the money.

The Knight Captain helped her up and handed her a transfer order:

"The Mining Area Management Committee has approved your arrangement to work in material inventory at the main mine, with a monthly salary."

What was most moving were the children.

Several children of the deceased miners were taken into the church and care home attached to the mining area.

They were led into that warm, large house, given clean clothes, and served steaming meat soup.

Someone specifically looked after them, and the territory also provided living supplies monthly, requiring no labor from them whatsoever.

"They are now people of the Starforge Territory," Lord Louis had said very clearly at the time. "Miners give their lives for the territory, and their families will be supported by the territory until old age."

Some of these children did not yet understand what "sacrifice" meant, only that they had lost their father, brother, or mother.

"My brother was killed by spiders," a ten-year-old boy wiped his eyes and wrote in his diary, "but Lord Louis said he paved a path for us."

"I want to stay, I want to learn skills, and when I grow up, I also want to work in the mine, kill all those harmful magical beasts, and turn the ore vein into a true treasure trove."

The youngest child, clutching his bowl tightly, quietly asked the maid caring for them: "Do I have to mine to get food?"

The maid's eyes immediately reddened upon hearing this; she knelt down and hugged him: "No. You have a name; you are protected."

This system was not limited to just one or two families.

Most of the direct relatives of the suffering craftsmen were properly settled into surface affairs in the Starforge Territory; some became record keepers, some assisted the canteen manager, and others were trained as junior technicians.

"We are not slaves," a taciturn old miner finally murmured that day, his eyes red, "We are workers whose names are remembered."

This sentence spread quickly.

That night, in the sheds, under the cooking smoke, and in the surface dormitories lit by magic crystal lamps, almost everyone was quietly discussing the sacrifice.

They talked about how the knights, clad in iron armor, went from house to house in the miners' quarters, leaving compensation, resettlement letters, and handwritten notes.

Someone said they never thought they would one day gain a new understanding of their own life because of someone else's death.

"Where have you seen a place where, when a miner dies, someone arranges jobs for their family?" a young miner, who was originally the most cynical, said while rubbing his reddened, frozen hands.

"I've been in other territories' mines before; there, if you died, you died. Your name would just be a number, your body dragged out and burned, and a new person ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) filled your spot."

"But it's different here," someone nearby softly interjected. "This is a place where someone remembers who you are."

These workers had never dared to hope that their lives would be valuable, only that one day their lives would truly be counted as lives.

People began to truly understand the meaning of "order"—it was not just rules and efficiency, but also protection, and a promise.

They began to trust Lord Louis, this young lord who never spoke unnecessary words but would quietly order coal to be delivered and deficiencies to be mended.

And because of this trust, they were willing to stay, willing to contribute, and willing to fight to protect this path to the ore veins that belonged to them.