Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

The second month after the Battle of the Holy City ended, Crystal Rock City, the capital of the Emerald Federation, remained brightly lit.

The city was like a cut piece of ore, presenting distinct layers from top to bottom.

The further down one went, the murkier the colors became; the further up, the calmer the light shone.

The top-floor meeting room floated above the city like a piece of crystal embedded in the clouds.

Huge floor-to-ceiling windows placed the entire Crystal Rock City beneath one's feet, yet only allowed those inside to look down.

Yellow-green toxic fog rolled between the streets and factory areas like a sea of miasma that would never dissipate.

Millions of mine slaves and low-level craftsmen squirmed within it, their lungs long since eroded by crystal dust and metal shavings; coughing up blood was considered a part of the job.

Scalding pipes traversed the blocks, with human figures crawling, falling, and being dragged away among them.

Some voluntarily signed organ transfer contracts in exchange for a piece of low-quality bread.

The hiss of leaking steam, the roar of pistons, and the wails of the dying were compressed into a low, continuous noise rising from the depths of the city.

Yet, before reaching the top floor, it was completely cut off.

The meeting room was silent, as an expensive silence barrier isolated all outside noise.

The air had also passed through several layers of alchemy filtration, carrying a fresh scent of mint mixed with gold powder, making breathing effortless.

The Chairman of the Radiant Glow Guild, Speaker Clement, stood before the floor-to-ceiling window.

A deep purple velvet formal suit fit his frame perfectly, and the raw magic stone atop his cane reflected a cold light.

The Chairwoman of the Silver Plate Guild, Lady Isabella, sat on the other side of the long table.

A black veil covered her delicate face but could not hide that unnatural paleness; her hands were covered in gemstone rings, each one enough to buy a border kingdom.

Around the round table, other directors had also taken their seats.

Someone used a pure gold knife to cut a steak that was still bloody, their movements as elegant as if they were dissecting a work of art;

Someone else put purified magic stone powder into their mouth, closing their eyes to experience that brief and expensive pleasure. They conversed and chuckled like a group of diners about to start a feast.

In the center of the conference table, a sophisticated mechanical sand table operated slowly.

Red game pieces represented the Empire, their formations orderly and their advance steady.

Blue flags symbolized the Emerald Federation, retreating step by step.

The intelligence officer stood to the side, reporting in a flat tone.

“Attention Board of ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) Directors: The Decoy Plan has achieved its intended goals. The Third Mercenary Corps, five thousand one hundred and twenty-three men, have all perished in Sunset Canyon. They held out until the last moment, successfully creating the illusion of a collapsing defense line.”

Clement slightly adjusted his monocle: “What about the compensation clauses?”

“They have been bypassed through force majeure and accidental insurance clauses.”

“Very good.” Clement nodded. “They died with great cost-effectiveness. Not only did they stall the Imperial Army, but they also happened to clear out several mercenary leaders who had been defaulting on interest for a long time.”

Isabella gave a soft laugh, her voice gentle yet hollow: “Remember to recover the bodies. The alchemy workshops have been short of organic fertilizer lately. Assets must not be wasted.”

The red tin soldiers on the sand table continued to advance.

The intelligence officer turned to the next page: “The twenty knight legions under Second Prince Kalian have penetrated deep into the heartland and are currently positioned directly in front of the Feeding Zone.”

A subtle change occurred in the meeting room for a moment as the eyes of several directors instinctively lit up.

Isabella closed her ledger and leaned forward slightly: “What perfect ingredients. The texture of ordinary ore is too coarse; He has been complaining for a long time.

Only this kind of iron of killing intent, repeatedly tempered by the fires of war, and the hero's blood full of anger, resentment, and the will to survive, are worthy of being the main course.”

She raised her eyes, her smile dignified: “This is also why we don't use Forbidden Curses. If they're blown to bits, they won't be fresh.”

Clement turned around, his back to the rolling toxic fog outside, facing the floor beneath his feet.

He pressed his palm to his chest in a standard gesture of etiquette, his voice solemn and low, as if reciting a holy scripture:

“Poor Kalian, he thinks he is conquering a nation, not knowing this is a blind pilgrimage.

And he is a diligent worker ant, trekking ten thousand miles to carry his sharpest fangs and most precious assets, bit by bit, onto His dining table.

For the property of the Federation, for our eternal life, and to let the Great Lord of Greed have a full meal, this is a necessary sacrifice.”

Red wine was brought out.

Seven crystal glasses tilted slightly in the center of the long table, the golden alchemical liquid flowing under the refraction of the chandelier like tamed sunlight.

“To Greed.”

The rims of the glasses clinked with a crisp, pleasant sound.

And in the deepest part of the city, behind countless pipes and rock layers, a certain massive and hungry existence let out a barely audible sound of swallowing.

Music began to play.

Soothing and elegant classical movements flowed through the meeting room, masking that slight, insignificant noise from just now.

Knives and forks fell, cutting into the veal; the meat was tender, and juices seeped out with a bloody hue.

The conversation naturally turned toward the future.

They began to discuss how to re-divide the Empire's mining areas and shipping routes after Kalian's death, which noble estates were suitable for acquisition, and which populations could serve as new labor quotas.

At that moment, without any warning—

“Buzz—!”

On the southern wall, the entire row of crystal screens simultaneously emitted a piercing low-frequency hum.

The music was instantly suppressed.

The directors' movements froze mid-air.

The green curves that had been flowing steadily disappeared completely within a second.

In their place was a heart-palpitating crimson.

That red was not a single point of eruption but spread like a plague.

Starting from the Southeast sea, it began to swallow the Holy Eastern Empire block.

Then, at a speed visible to the naked eye, it dyed all trade nodes, mining area markers, and shipping route coordinates in the Southeast red.

The door to the meeting room then slid open.

The Federation's Chief Intelligence Executive practically stumbled in.

He had lost a shoe, his hair was disheveled, and his usually meticulous uniform was completely soaked in sweat. Standing at the door, he gasped for air twice:

“Directors, the East... has collapsed... Louis Calvin has completed the total occupation of the Holy Eastern Empire and the Golden Feather Flower Church State!”

Dead silence. The air felt as if it had been vacuumed out.

Lady Isabella stood up abruptly, her hands pressing hard onto the tabletop: “How could it be so fast...”

Her voice lost its usual composure: “It's only been a few months since he went south... We originally estimated that his war with the Eastern Empire would drag on for at least two to three years, but now...”

Her gaze swept over the area that had been completely dyed red, her throat tightening: “He not only won but also took down that Divine Island.”

Director Vulcan of the Arms and Metallurgy Guild leaned forward sharply, the mechanical prosthetic eye embedded in his socket zooming in and out frantically:

“Impossible. I know the Church State's fleet very well; even the Federation Navy steers clear of their defense system. And then there's the barrier of that island...”

He looked up, his prosthetic eye flickering with a dangerous red light.

“You're saying he leveled the entire island in three days? Even if we concentrated all our Magic Blast Cannons to bombard it, it would take a year!”

He suddenly realized a fact: the city defenses the Federation took pride in might be nothing more than fragile glass in the opponent's eyes.

Director Gorgon of the Black Spine Guild suddenly stopped chewing and looked down at the meat on his plate, his face turning pale.

The next second, he bent over abruptly and vomited all the expensive ingredients he had just eaten onto the carpet.

“And he annexed the Eastern Empire...” His voice carried an undisguisable terror. “There are tens of millions of people there; how is he digesting them? Once he's finished, he'll definitely head west.”

The calmest person present was instead Speaker Clement of the Radiant Glow Guild. He closed his eyes, rapidly reconstructing the map of the East in his mind.

The once fragmented and chaotic nations that could be dismantled by capital had disappeared, replaced by a single, glaring stretch of crimson.

“Everyone.” He finally spoke, his tone chilling, “We made a fatal mistake; we always thought he was an entity that could be valued.

“But now it seems... once he finishes digesting the East, his next target will inevitably be us.”

In the center of the mechanical sand table, the red arrow representing Kalian was completely covered by a deeper shadow.

That shadow rose from the Eastern sea like an open giant maw, devouring everything on the map.

Lady Isabella slumped back into her chair, her voice trembling: “Then what do we do? Give him money? Make him an Honorary Speaker?”

Director Vulcan slammed his fist onto the table: “Haven't you seen it yet? He wants it all!”

Speaker Clement looked up, his alchemical prosthetic eye lighting up in the shadows, emitting a cold glow.

“Since we cannot trade, we can only destroy.” He paused for a moment. “Awaken our God immediately.

Regardless of whether Kalian's twenty legions are enough for Him to eat, establish this defense line first.”

This was their final trump card and their only choice... As the Imperial Army's offensive approached the core area of the Emerald Federation, it showed obvious sluggishness for the first time.

On the main frontal road, the Federation seemed to have changed its tactics overnight.

All heavy cannons that could still operate were stacked along that single passage, layer upon layer, like a high wall forged of steel and fire.

The muzzles never rested day or night, their firepower providing overlapping coverage; any tentative advance would immediately result in mass casualties.

This wasn't defense; this was a slaughterhouse forcing people to grind through it.

At the military meeting, the map was repeatedly spread out and then closed, but the atmosphere grew heavier each time.

Duke Remont was the first to speak, his tone cautious and even appearing somewhat weary, as if he truly worried for the safety of the Imperial Army.

“Your Highness, the frontal defense is too dense,” he said. “The supply lines have been stretched to their limit. Continuing the assault will only waste our elites for nothing.

It would be better to... temporarily retreat, reorganize our forces, and wait for reinforcements and a new batch of supplies from the rear before making further plans.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Kalian's face darkened.

Retreat? The word itself felt like a negation of all his victories over the past few months.

“Retreat?” Kalian repeated coldly, his gaze as sharp as a blade. “Louis is currently annexing the Empire in the south. If I take one step back now, I'm personally handing myself over to him!”

He slapped his palm onto the table: “We must attack.”

A silence fell over the meeting room.

Just as the dispute hit a stalemate, the knights outside brought in an unexpected prize: a captured high-ranking Federation deserter.

The man was covered in dust and mentally shattered, as if he had been completely drained. Among his belongings, a roll of yellowed old blueprints was found.

It was the "Map of Abandoned Tunnels in the Federation Mining Area."

The moment the blueprints were spread out, Kalian's eyes lit up.

It was a route labeled "Old Crystal Vein Mine Tunnel," excavated a hundred years ago and long since abandoned due to complex terrain, residual toxic gas, and the depletion of the ore veins.

The blueprints showed that it bypassed the frontal fortress groups, pointing straight like a hidden needle into the heart of Crystal Rock City.

“No defenders?” Kalian immediately ordered, “Send the Royal Scouts to verify this at once.”

The scouts' report came back extremely quickly: “Your Highness, it is true.

The tunnel is rugged, but it is indeed clear. There are no garrisoned troops along the way, and most of the warning mechanisms have failed, leaving only a few rusty signs.”

Everything was going smoothly to an almost absurd degree.

Remont stood by the map, his brow furrowed, continuing to play the role of the cautious old official.

“Your Highness, this path is too dangerous,” he said. “Once discovered, the narrow terrain makes it impossible to deploy, and if the retreat path is cut, it will be total annihilation.”

Kalian, however, showed a certain look: “Precisely because it's dangerous, the enemy won't expect me to go this way.”

He looked at Remont, his tone carrying an undisguised edge: “Duke, you've grown old. This is a blitzkrieg, not your brand of dallying noble warfare.”

The final deployment was quickly finalized.

Kalian personally led ten thousand of his most elite knights to penetrate the mine tunnel and launch a surprise attack on Crystal Rock City.

Remont would lead the main and logistics forces to continue a massive feint on the front, drawing all of the Federation's attention.

The moment the order was given, Remont lowered his eyes, but his heart was cold.

Late at night, the ten thousand iron cavalry began their move, like a silent black stream quietly slipping into that deep mine tunnel.

On either side were steep black rock walls, and the air was filled with a pungent odor.

The march was exceptionally smooth—no patrolling magical beasts, no cave-ins, no traps. It was so smooth it was unsettling, yet it made Kalian all the more convinced it was a gift from fate.

When the faint light of Crystal Rock City finally emerged in the night on the distant horizon, he even allowed himself a smile.

In the darkest hour before dawn, the vanguard burst out of the narrow tunnel.

The view suddenly opened up.

Before them was a vast basin plain, low-lying like a natural bowl.

Crystal Rock City sat on the edge of the basin, its lights still on, looking completely defenseless.

Almost at the same time, from the direction of the distant frontal battlefield, the sound of earth-shattering cannon fire arrived.

Remont had begun the feint.

Kalian felt his blood surge.

“Do you see it?” He unsheathed his longsword and pointed toward the city ahead. “That is our reward.”

“Charge! Crush them! Let the Federation's gold pave the way for the Empire's revival!”

The horn sounded.

Ten thousand knights, carrying their desire for victory, poured down from the heights.

Like an out-of-control black mudslide, they surged without hesitation into that already prepared dinner plate.