Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

Night shrouded Smashed Axe Highland, and a cold wind blew from the mountain pass into the camp, stirring up the ashes of dying fires.

In the center of the camp, the tall pole bearing the Angry Flower banner fluttered in the wind, its crimson and black patterns resembling the pupils of some fierce beast, making it hard to look directly at.

The barbarian elder, Ortan, stood on a high slope, draped in a heavy horned hide cloak, overlooking the entire camp.

At the edge of the camp, a chaotic group of figures had gathered again. Amidst the flickering firelight, blades glinted.

It was a few young men from the Red Rock tribe, fighting again in the middle of the night.

Punching, kicking, biting, and roaring, they completely disregarded tribal rules, like a pack of wild dogs ignited by gunpowder.

It was impossible to count how many such incidents had occurred in the past few months, and nine out of ten times, they would end in death. Yet, strangely, no one intervened, as if it were tacitly allowed.

This made Ortan’s heart tighten, but he couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong. He wasn't a coward, but these nights, he found himself increasingly unable to sleep.

Not only from external factors, but that sense of irritability and violence seemed to be quietly growing within him as well.

Lately, he was easily angered, often shouting at young warriors, and even the crying of infants from his own kin made his teeth itch with irritation.

He knew this wasn't normal, but he couldn’t control it.

This emotion seemed to have begun after Titus launched the war against the Smashed Axe tribe.

Since that battle, on this barbarian land that was gradually falling silent, the old totems had been burned down little by little, reduced to ash and buried in the earth.

In their place stood the newly erected black-backed Angry Flower banner.

With thorns as its stem and crimson raging flames as its petals, it stood in the center of the Smashed Axe, Red Rock, Blazing Tooth, and Black Horn tribal camps, high and unyielding.

In just a few months, Titus had incorporated the four major tribes, commanding tens of thousands of troops.

On the surface, each conquest was like a traditional tribal war, with initial battles being fierce and bloody.

But strangely, the war never lasted long. The day after the battle, the enemy would begin to “voluntarily” surrender.

Moreover, the surrendering parties often carried an inexplicable sense of exhilaration, as if they were not surrendering to an enemy, but to something higher and purer. Ortan initially thought it was merely adoration for the strong.

But now he wasn't so sure. This wasn't simply being conquered; it was more like an infection.

It was like an emotion born from anger, transcending tribal bloodlines and customs, searing into everyone’s bones like a brand.

Deep in the snowfield, a valley was formed by perpetually unmelting bones and ice.

This was “Bone Snow Valley,” the sacred land of the former Blazing Tooth tribe. In the very center of the valley, the original totem pole had long been smashed and burned, replaced by a high platform entwined with deep red vines and iron stones.

And in the exact center of the altar, a colossal shadow roared and struggled.

It was a dying but still conscious Frost Giants, with bony scales. Dozens of black iron chains wrapped around its body, each link embedded with a scorching brand, slowly oozing residual heat in the gray snow.

Its eyes were tightly bound with thick black cloth, allowing it only to roar upwards, a mountain-like rumble emanating from its throat, the sound waves causing the accumulated snow at the bottom of the valley to continuously slide and shatter.

Titus stood on the stone platform of the altar, looking down at the giant, his face as cold as iron, yet his eyes gleamed with an extremely abnormal fanaticism.

His right hand slowly rose, and a deep red vine extended from his palm, like a hungry eye, constantly wriggling, as if craving a host.

“Become my weapon,” he murmured softly, his voice carrying a chilling gentleness, as if caressing a lover, rather than commanding a beast.

The giant beneath him, however, continued to struggle, uttering indistinct ancient words in its roars, carrying echoes of resistance, pain, and lost divinity.

The adjutant stood nearby, his face solemn, and still cautiously whispered, “King—this giant is untamed in its madness. Should we wait for the High Priest to stabilize it further?”

Titus’s gaze shifted slightly, then slowly turned.

“No need,” he said.

His voice was extremely soft, but in that instant, the Blazing Pain Main Vine seemed to obey, shooting out and rapidly piercing into the flesh beneath the giant’s collarbone. Amidst splashing blood, the flower crown trembled, greedily beginning to devour, parasitize, and expand.

The moment the Blazing Pain Main Vine pierced in like a spear, the Frost Giants’s body convulsed violently. Blood mixed with frost surged from the wound, quickly freezing into crimson ice spikes on the ground.

It roared to the heavens, but the roar lasted only for a brief moment.

“Crack—crack, crack—”

Then the giant’s back skin suddenly bulged, as if something was struggling and twisting inside its body.

Several scaled bone joints forcibly protruded beneath the muscles and frost membrane, accompanied by a sickening tearing sound.

Thick vines broke through the skin from its shoulder blades and both sides of its spine, branching out like tree limbs, wrapping around its entire body.

On the giant’s forehead, which was originally smooth as ice, a strange scorching mark appeared.

It was the mark of the flower crown, like a branded totem, glowing crimson in the cold wind.

Its roar suddenly ceased. Replacing that violent roar was a vague, muffled growl.

Indistinct, suppressed, almost a whisper, the language was unclear, yet it subtly conveyed submission and resonance.

The giant’s eyes, once as blue as a glacier, were now bloodshot, pupils crimson, and gaze dead and hollow.

It slowly turned, its movements heavy yet firm, as if pulled by invisible threads, slowly lowering its head towards Titus on the stone platform.

Titus watched this scene quietly, like a deity gazing upon a creation he had personally remade.

He leaned slightly, his voice deep and gentle, like a lover’s whisper: “Very good—you can hear the rage now.”

When the parasitized Frost Giants finally knelt in a roar, with vines climbing up its back and the flower crown pattern appearing like a brand around its forehead, the barbarian warriors were momentarily at a loss. But soon, their fear turned to worship, and they all knelt on the ground.

Titus stood on the high platform and shouted, “We shall have an army of giants!”

A roaring cheer erupted in the valley, a mixture of fear, fanaticism, and weeping.

But no one questioned why the Frost Giants’s eyes were hollow and its steps stiff.

All doubts were completely overshadowed by the clamor and excitement of the “miracle.” Yet, amidst this clamor, Titus’s gaze momentarily blurred.

He heard that low hum again, like the sound of vines moving beneath the skin, as if mocking him.

He suddenly grabbed the breastplate of the adjutant beside him, lifting the man completely off the ground, his eyes burning with a nearly maniacal fire.

“Are you laughing at me?”

The adjutant’s face was pale, and he denied it in terror, shaking his head repeatedly.

Titus stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly sneered and threw him aside: “Very good. Go capture more Frost Giants. The more, the better.

I want the entire North to kneel before me.”

With the order issued, the various barbarian tribes marched out under the blood-red banner.

Like a storm scorched by rage, they swept deeper into the snowfield, hunting down every survivor of the ancient races.

Not just giants, but the first batch of “blessed” exotic beasts also began appearing in the camp.

Icefield Wolf, Snowfield Horned Deer, Ice-Digging Ape, Night Fox—none were spared.

Their skin cracked, strange vine patterns pulsed beneath their flesh, their mouths and nostrils exhaled a putrid red gas, and rage grew wildly in their eyes, carrying an extremely unnatural ferocity and deformity.

They were tethered throughout the camp, chains clanging, roaring, howling, and raging incessantly.

Like living curses, struggling within iron cages and at stakes.

However, not a single barbarian warrior avoided them; instead, more and more people approached these monsters.

Some watched, some offered blood, and some even fought them bare-handed, as if testing their own strength.

They laughed as they crawled out from in front of the iron cages, showing no complaints even with blood streaming down their faces, only wanting to vent the endless rage in their hearts.

And these exotic beasts had long lost their minds, yet they seemed to share some invisible will.

Their cries were mixed with pain, anger, and an inexplicable longing, as if the heartbeat of the entire camp intensely vibrated with them.

The roars were deafening, disturbing the entire night, yet no one felt fear.

Instead, more and more warriors approached the iron cages before dawn, roaring back at them, imitating each other, and even beginning to vaguely mimic the postures and cries of those exotic beasts.

They no longer distinguished the boundary between themselves and beasts.

Some had bloodshot eyes, some grew tiny thorns on their tongues, and some knelt silently in the middle of the night, muttering words no one understood.

Like sleepwalking beasts, or slaves chanting scriptures in a dream.

Until one night, when the first roar sounded, it was answered not only by the monsters in the iron cages, but also by the living people.

And no one noticed, or rather, no one was willing to notice, that this was actually a spreading sacrifice.

Deep winter finally arrived in Red Tide Territory.

The red rooftops on both sides of Red Tide City’s main street were covered with thick snow, heavy but not messy, neatly arranged like carefully sculpted pastries.

Early risers were already on the street, pushing wooden shovels to clear the snow, the swishing sounds rising and falling.

By the roadside, some people were wrapping pine branches and red ribbons around lampposts, a tradition they had only recently revived.

Children laughed as they ran through snowdrifts, bundled in thick cloaks, with happy faces.

This winter was no longer as difficult as in previous years.

Grain from the public granaries was distributed in an orderly manner, and firewood, lamp oil, and medicinal powders were issued as needed.

Even at the weekly market, fresh cured meat and salted dried fish were sold.

Many households, uncommonly, stewed meat soup in their winter pots, emitting fragrant aromas.

People often said, “Thank Lord Louis, I never thought we’d have hot meat to eat even in this freezing weather.”

And this year, for Louis himself, perhaps it was finally a rare chance to catch his breath and rest for a while.

Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, falling on the dark red bed curtains and carpet.

Emily and Sif had already risen, even the lingering scent of their dresses had dissipated, leaving him alone to linger in the covers.

He exhaled softly, having enjoyed a rare lie-in. For the great task of procreation, he had indeed exerted himself quite a bit last night. Turning over, Louis raised his finger and gently drew an arc in the air, and a translucent intelligence interface immediately unfolded before his eyes.

【Daily Intelligence Update Complete】

【1: A group of Ice Armor Bear has been sighted in the northern part of Wheat Wave Territory.】

【2: Titus used the Blazing Pain Main Vine to control a Frost Giants. The giant’s rage became uncontrollable, and it knelt in obedience.】

【3: Emily is pregnant. It is expected that in ten months, she will give birth to a son for Louis Calvin.】

The first piece of intelligence that caught his eye filled Louis’s face with an undisguised joy.

“...Finally found it.”

He murmured, a glint of light flashing in his eyes.

Ice Armor Bear, a magical beast that could be called a rare treasure of the Northern Plains.

Two years ago, he had personally led knights to hunt a group, which was one of the most important battles in the early days of Red Tide Territory, when resources were scarce.

That Ice Armor Bear had almost become the cornerstone of early resource accumulation.

He remembered clearly that the bear meat was carefully cured into roasted meat that enhanced Battle Qi. The bear claws and tusks were forged into a batch of incredibly sharp cold steel weapons.

And the most precious, naturally, was the blue-silver crystal cut from its crystallized spine, which contained immense energy and was a top-grade alchemy and magical material.

Louis had used those few crystals to make Magic Bomb.

He still remembered the ear-splitting roar that tore through the air the moment they exploded, instantly reducing hundreds of Snowsworn to ashes.

“—One of the best core ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) materials for Magic Bomb.” He tapped the name of the place on the intelligence with his fingertip, a smile on his lips.

What’s more, the current Red Tide Territory was no longer what it once was. With Frostleaf Vine potions and a well-trained beast-hunting knight order, it already possessed the capability for large-scale capture and domestication of Ice Armor Bear.

This wasn’t prey; this was an opportunity.

He had already quickly brought up a list of personnel, deployment routes, and pilot domestication plans in his mind, even knowing which alchemists should be assigned to participate.

Then he continued to the second point: Titus used the Blazing Pain Main Vine to control a Frost Giants. Louis’s eyes narrowed, and the joyful smile that had been on his lips instantly froze.

“Frost Giants—”

Louis narrowed his eyes, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

He had seen such monsters before; in fact, he had slaughtered them.

They were strong, extremely strong, but stupid. As long as one had a brain, they weren’t difficult to deal with.

But what if they were no longer stupid?

What if Frost Giants also had command, tactics, and coordination? And what made all this possible was that barbarian who was increasingly like a “new king”—Titus.

This name had appeared more and more frequently in intelligence reports in recent months.

From being an initial barbarian leader, to gradually incorporating the Smashed Axe, Red Rock, Blazing Tooth, and Black Horn tribes, his military strength exceeded ten thousand, and military discipline was steadily taking shape.

This gradually made him anxious, and now added a sense of real threat.

Louis leaned back in his chair, letting out a soft puff of white air.

“This is no longer an ordinary barbarian disturbance—”

He knew that if Titus truly mastered the method of controlling giants, it would be like having a living battering ram, a combat resource not bound by conventional warfare.

If these Frost Giants were controlled in large numbers, then the North could very well face a true “war trampling.”

He knew he would have to allocate some energy to devising countermeasures in the coming days.

And even more dangerous was the name behind it: Blazing Pain Vine Court.

His pupils constricted slightly, and his mind rapidly churned with fragments of information he had gathered through the system in the past.

Blazing Pain Vine Court—it was not a method recorded in known Magician Forest magic texts, nor did it resemble conventional curses or witchcraft.

It was more like some kind of corrosive demonic ecology, perhaps a creature, or something in between a plant and a curse—a thing.

It bore some resemblance to the Mother Nest—he even suspected if this was something that Despair Witch had researched.

His face completely darkened.

If even giants could be tamed, then who would be the next to be infected?

Would there come a day when an entire “new barbarian” force, driven by rage and madness, would sweep across the border of Red Tide, bringing with them those demonic beasts?

This thought caused Louis’s gaze to turn cold for a brief moment.

He couldn’t wait until that day to act. He had to prepare contingency plans in advance.

Relying solely on himself wouldn't be enough.

He had already written to Duke Edmond, selectively reporting some of the information he had “accidentally acquired.”

His wording was careful, emphasizing the need for the other party to heighten vigilance and strengthen defenses.

These thoughts flashed through his mind, lingering for only a few seconds.

Then Louis’s gaze quickly fell on the third piece of intelligence.

“Emily is pregnant. It is expected that in ten months, she will give birth to a son for Louis Calvin.”

At that moment, the icy chill seemed to be dispelled by a spring breeze.

His mind suddenly went blank, then he abruptly sprang from the bed, his voice filled with disbelief but also overflowing with joy: “I’m going to be a father?!”