Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 140 Red Tide Games

Emily was completely confused and tried to piece together the scene in her mind, but she couldn't figure out what the "pull-up competition" the woman was talking about looked like.

"You'll see when the time comes," the woman said with a smile and a wave, then carried the empty bowl toward the recycling point.

Before we knew it, it was morning.

The training grounds for knights and soldiers in Red Tide Territory have become lively.

This place has now been converted into a temporary sports field, with a wooden platform erected and the flag of the Red Tide Territory planted on top.

A hand-drawn competition schedule was pinned to the front, with drawings and crooked handwriting indicating: "Tug-of-war," "Relay race," "Stone throwing competition," "Firewood relay," and so on.

Although not glamorous, it exudes a simple and down-to-earth atmosphere.

Emily originally only planned to "take a look and leave," since her identity was not suitable for lingering in the crowd.

But as she reached the edge of the sports field, her pace slowed down.

Laughter and shouts rose and fell.

The children ran around happily, waving their homemade flags, and circled around the adults.

These warm and lively scenes attracted her.

After thinking about it, she decided not to leave, but instead found a wooden step at the edge of the square and sat down.

At first, Emily was a little reserved, afraid that her identity would be discovered, but she soon realized that no one was paying attention to her.

People's eyes were focused on the game in the center of the field, and their emotions rose and fell with the outcome of the match, like a pot of boiling water.

A little boy squatted down next to her, clutching half a candy cookie, muttering, "With Longleg Cole in our neighborhood, we're sure to win!"

When he learned that Emily was a guest from outside, he explained the rules to her in a vivid and detailed manner.

Tug-of-war is played with hemp rope, and ten people on each side work together, regardless of gender.

The team that carries the rice sacks must run around the entire square, and the fastest team will receive silver coins.

There's also a "firewood relay," where a bundle of firewood is passed around to see which team is the most reliable.

These competitions are not complicated, and even a bit clumsy, but that's precisely why they can be participated in by the whole nation.

Whether farmers or slaves, men, women, young or old, everyone gritted their teeth and ran, pulled ropes, and threw stones with all their might.

No one cares about status, no one cares about background.

I just want my family, neighbors, and friends to see my efforts and cheer me on.

The winner would be surrounded and cheered by a crowd. The medal was a round iron plaque, and the prize was silver coins and bags of food placed on the table.

Those who lost collapsed to the ground, exhausted and dejected, but they all received a small piece of bread or a piece of candy, as well as a smiling pat on the shoulder from someone nearby.

At first, Emily just sat quietly, with a hint of doubt in her eyes.

She looked at the center of the field, where farmers, blacksmiths, and fishermen were running, falling, and getting up in the dust, laughing and helping each other up.

The movements were clumsy, the scene was not elegant, and even a bit ridiculously awkward.

"What...does any of this mean?" Emily couldn't help but ask herself in a low voice.

But gradually, she noticed some details.

The light in the eyes of these people as they shouted and smiled was genuine.

It is by no means a mask of fake smiles at aristocratic banquets, nor a pretentious act at aristocratic balls.

This is a joy that belongs to ordinary people, a joy that comes from the heart.

The children ran around the field, kicking up dust, clutching candy and medals, all smiles.

The adults were sweating profusely, giving each other high-fives, while the losers still walked off the field with smiles on their faces.

Even though the outcome was already decided, no one complained or argued; there was only laughter and prolonged applause.

The atmosphere was so innocent that Emily almost forgot where he was and what he was doing.

This is a rare form of entertainment for the people of this land.

Finally, it was time for the last match – the tug-of-war final.

The square erupted in chaos, the noise so loud it made one's heart tremble.

People crowded to the sidelines, children clung to adults' shoulders to get ahead, and even candy vendors forgot about their business and squeezed in with their little baskets.

The two teams squatted down and gripped a thick hemp rope tightly.

The participants were dozens of simple, honest faces, including a dark-skinned blacksmith, a burly woodcutter, and a thin boy.

But none of them were nobles, and none of them had knightly blood.

But their eyes were all equally determined.

The referee raised his arm, and the air seemed to freeze instantly.

"start!"

At the command, the entire square erupted in chaos.

"Pull! Pull!!"

"Don't let up! Hold on!"

"Almost there, almost there, just one more time!"

Shouts, applause, and cheers filled the air.

The two men roared simultaneously, their feet digging into the ground, their hands clenching so hard their veins bulged, their faces flushed red, as if they wanted to twist everything into that rope.

Emily held her breath, watching the group of people struggling desperately in the mud.

Some people fell down and were pulled up, while others were about to give up but still gritted their teeth and persevered.

Sweat, dust, and shouts all mingled together, creating a heat that felt like it was about to burst into flames.

Even her guards forgot their duties, waving their fists and shouting encouragement to the stranger: "Go! Pull it!"

As the rope moved slowly, the tension in the room became so high that even breathing became heavy.

"One last blow! All of us together! Aaaaaah!!"

Finally, with a loud shout, the rope was pulled across the marker line.

"Won!!"

The applause erupted like thunder, and the crowd cheered.

The group of people lay on the ground, laughing and panting heavily, their faces filthy, but their eyes shining brightly.

Nora clapped her hands excitedly: "This is so much fun! This is the first time I've ever seen a competition like this!"

Emily didn't respond to her words. As a child raised in aristocracy, she could see much more than just humor in them.

The people on the field were laughing, shouting, and singing.

It wasn't just a smile of victory, but... an indescribable sense of glory.

Or rather, a sense of belonging and solidarity.

It is the people's genuine love for this land.

If it were just for some prizes and a full stomach, they wouldn't have sung folk songs around the team after the competition, shouting until their voices were hoarse.

They are fighting with all their might for "our Red Tide Territory".

This is not an achievement that can be obtained by a few policies alone, but rather by a kind of emotion that has been deeply rooted in people's hearts.

Louis taught the people here to be proud of themselves and of him.

Emily felt a chill run down her spine, yet a subtle tremor also stirred within her.

And her fiancé, whom she originally thought had only risen to prominence through a few brilliant victories, has now quietly sown seeds that have never appeared before in this desolate yet youthful land.

"Louis...how did you do that?"

Emily's thoughts drifted back to Frostspear City, a place she knew so well she could walk through every street with her eyes closed.

The richest territory in the North, bar none.

But what about the people there?
Always walk with your head down, always live cautiously.

They can eat their fill and stay warm, but they never smile.

Even on festive days, they were merely ordered to line up and watch the lively celebrations of the nobility, as if they were just decorations.

She suddenly realized that the city had never been a place where people could truly live.

Instead, they are allowed to "survive".

"Why is this happening?" Emily asked herself softly.

She suddenly began to fantasize about bringing back this atmosphere, this competition, this genuine connection between people...

Will there come a day when the children of Frostspear City will run on the snow, laughing and holding their parents' hands, giving their all for a small medal?

But she soon realized that it wasn't a problem with the system, nor could it be replicated by a particular law or event.

Louis was able to do it not because he distributed a lot of grain or built a lot of houses.

It was not because he personally stepped into this land, but because he gave these people trust, patience, and hope.

In the father's territory, the connection between people and the land had long been severed by the burdens of life, leaving only indifferent silence and numb survival.

A thought popped into her head: perhaps... her fiancé could change the entire North.

Emily was right.

This lively "Red Tide Games," where even children could run onto the stage to receive awards, was not a whim or a pastime that any resident came up with on a whim.

This was an event personally approved by Lord Louis, who even participated in the design of the details.

The goal is certainly not just "to make everyone happy".

In this early spring, when the chill of the North still lingers, resources are already scarce, and the shadow of war has not completely dissipated. It is precisely for this reason that a competition involving the entire population is all the more important.

By competing in physical strength, speed, and teamwork, they can win prizes, applause, and, more importantly, a sense of "collective glory."

It is not a victory for any one person, but a victory for "us Red Tide people".

For Louis, this was a meticulously planned scheme.

He wants to use the competition to foster a friendly competitive atmosphere, allowing people to get closer to each other through the process of chasing and surpassing each other.

Find a sense of belonging in laughter and shouts, and find a sense of identity as a person in this place.

More importantly, those moments of practicing together, teaming up together, and cheering each other on will slowly cultivate something within them:
"Territorial pride."

As long as there are people in the square cheering for the same team.

As long as you feel regret when you lose a game and shed tears when you win, a subtle change will occur.

They didn't know what it was called because it was something that happened gradually and subtly.

To enable residents to no longer be merely managed, but to develop a sense of ownership over the Red Tide territory.

But Louis knew that with this thing...

When the Red Tide Territory faces a great crisis, they are able to unite and overcome difficulties together.

The cheers had barely subsided after the civilians' competition ended when another blast of horns resounded throughout the square.

"Next up is the Knights' exhibition match!"

The scene fell silent for a few moments, then erupted again amidst the expectant shouts of children and young people.

Rows of armored knights appeared in the sunlight, their distinctive black and red cloaks billowing in the wind like burning flames, solemn yet fiery.

They were clad in heavy armor, with swords at their waists, and their steps were perfectly synchronized.

As he walked past the audience, every movement was like a ritual that had been repeatedly practiced, without the slightest excess or slackness.

Sunlight shone on their silver-gray breastplates, reflecting a dazzling brilliance, and the rhythmic clatter of hooves sounded like the beating of war drums, striking a chord in the empty square.

Everyone subconsciously held their breath and straightened their backs, as if they were also an insignificant member of this iron torrent.

Emily was stunned.

She was the daughter of a nobleman and spent many years dealing with the elite knights under her father's command.

Those people prided themselves on being elites, well-trained, and impeccably polite...

But she had to admit that the group of people in front of her were not much different from them in terms of discipline and spirit.

Even without comparing their cultivation levels, they are superior.

That unified pace, that tacit and silent collaboration when cooperating, that unwavering dedication even during the performance...

She had never seen him in her father's order of knights.

She even felt that if this team were put on the battlefield, they might not necessarily lose to the veteran knight orders of the same level in the North.

Next up is the official exhibition match.

The first event was a mounted spear duel.

Two knights stopped their horses at the opposite starting line, holding lances and their faces covered by armor. At a command, they gave the order.

"Drink!!"

The thunderous sound of hooves! The lances flying like dragons!
The two riders galloped past each other, colliding in the middle with a dull thud. The spearheads struck the target in front of the other rider's chest accurately, sending sparks flying.

The audience erupted in cheers like waves!

"Wow, that's amazing! So cool!"

"Is he...is he alright?! That shot really seemed to hit him!"

"I want to be a knight when I grow up!"

A flame seemed to ignite in the children's eyes; it was their lifelong dream.

Next came the demonstration of foot combat and grappling techniques.

Two heavily armored knights, each wielding a blunt sword, faced off, probing, parrying, and sweeping their legs, each strike heavy and powerful.

Although the equipment used was for a drill, every impact felt so real it made my heart race.

The audience watched with bated breath, and some couldn't help but imitate the movements.

Finally, the grand finale of the Knights' performance arrived.

"The practical combat segment against Warcraft."

When the host announced it loudly, the audience erupted in excited commotion, with countless people even standing up, craning their necks higher than giraffes, afraid of missing even a second.

Several elite knights appeared, their longswords wreathed in red battle aura, resembling blazing flames and dazzling light.

Their opponent is a glacier boar.

It is as big as an elephant, with thick skin, tough flesh, long teeth, and fast legs. It is a common low-level magical beast in the north.

Although it is insignificant on the battlefield, it is still an excellent prop for a performance in this square.

And these knights clearly know how to "perform".

Instead of rushing in and instantly killing the wild boar, they exchanged blows, their fighting spirit flashing as if they were putting on a special effects-filled animal fight show for the audience.

Sometimes it charges suddenly, sometimes it deliberately slides to dodge, keeping the wild boar in complete control while always narrowly missing a chance to escape.

The cheers from the crowd were deafening.

One spectator jumped up excitedly and shouted, "Hurry up and catch it! Kill it with one sword!"

Someone even grabbed their friend's arm and exclaimed, "Oh my god, did you see that sudden attack he just made?!"

Emily stood in the crowd and couldn't help but chuckle softly.

She had never seen anything like it before, not because hunting monsters was particularly rare.

Instead, this fighting style of "deliberately slowing down the fight for everyone's benefit" is almost like... performing an opera with Warcraft.

"So, battles can be viewed as a performance... and it's quite exciting."

After the animal fight show ended, the most exciting part finally began.

As the trumpeter sounded the melody symbolizing victory, the Red Tide Knights, lined up in neat rows, raised their lances in unison, their breastplates clashing and their horses' hooves pounding the ground.

They shouted at the top of their lungs: "For the Red Tide! For Lord Louis! Long live!!!"

This sound was as powerful as thunder.

At that moment, the entire square seemed to resonate in the air.

The children jumped up excitedly to imitate the actions, the adults shouted with excitement, some with tears in their eyes, and some clenched their fists.

Cheers rose in waves, sweeping across the land like a tidal wave.

Long live the Red Tide!!

"Long live Lord Louis!!!"

In that instant, everyone seemed to converge into a scalding torrent.

Emily stood in the crowd, seemingly swallowed by the heatwave, her breath caught in her throat.

She looked at those people, those soldiers, civilians, children...

The undisguised pride and reverence on their faces burned in her heart like fire.

It wasn't because of bloodline, birth, or family honor.

They genuinely and sincerely admired one person—Louis.

It wasn't because he was a nobleman, nor because he was the young lord who had defeated the Snowsworn.

It was because he gave them hope.

He made them feel that they also belonged to this land, to the name "Red Tide".

He was not only their lord, but also their patriarch and their sun.

Emily felt a little suffocated; she had never seen such a scene in her father's territory.

Her father was the ruler of the entire North, the most powerful being, but people feared him and obeyed him, but never supported him.

Emily clenched her fists, her curiosity about Louis reaching a new level.

Little did she know that on a nearby pavilion, Louis was also quietly overlooking the jubilation in the square.

He stood in the sunlight, arms crossed, his expression calm.

"Hmm... the effect is not bad." Louis murmured, a faint smile playing on his lips. "At least it lets them know that even if there is another war in the future, they have a knightly order that is always ready to fight behind them."

The fervor and reverence of the people at this moment were not unfamiliar to him, nor was it something he should indulge in.

Because he knew all too well that this northern land was constantly in danger.

The peace he enjoys now is only a brief respite, and he knows for certain that a greater calamity will befall the North this winter.

We must maintain the current peace with a clear and firm order.

This knightly demonstration was never intended to please anyone from the very beginning.

It's not about showing off, nor is it about romance.

The reason given was simply to demonstrate the territory's military strength and give them a sense of security.

Louis then turned around and asked, "How are the dinner preparations going?"

Bradley nodded: "Almost done. All the ingredients have been delivered to the square, and the performance team is having their final rehearsal. We can start in another hour."

“Hmm.” Louis nodded, looking up at the sky.

(End of this chapter)