Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 144 The Supreme Sorcerer
Night fell, dark clouds loomed overhead, and even the air seemed to carry a heavy, oppressive feeling.

Deep within the Forest of Masters, the ancient tower stands quietly at the edge of the forest.

A few pale moonlight peeked through the thick clouds, casting a cold, silvery glow on the tower.

On the circular arcade at the top of the tower, the Sorcerer Supreme Aurelion stood with his hands behind his back.

Before him, a bronze raven lay silently on a carved stone platform, its eyes dull and lifeless, not flashing for a long time.

That was the communication tool of his senior brother, Archmage Jürgen Locken, who would regularly bring him messages a few months ago.

Even just a few words are enough to prove that the old friend is safe and sound.

But now, several months have passed, and there's still nothing.

"It's been too long. I hope nothing unexpected happens," Aurelion muttered to himself, his voice heavy with barely concealed distress.

He raised his right hand, and his fingertips slowly traced a simple circular magic circle in the air, with a faint blue and white light appearing.

"Come." A soft voice called out.

A moment later, twelve figures in gray robes arrived and knelt on one knee before him, their silver masks reflecting a cold light under the magical glow.

"Supreme."

Their voices were low and solemn, as if they blended into the night.

Aurelion raised his hand, and a rough parchment map appeared in the air, marking the outline of the Ironblood Empire's northern border.

“Master Jürgen Loken has not written to us for several months. You twelve shall immediately proceed to the North and find the place where he last appeared.”

His voice was low and slow, yet it carried an almost sacred sense of oppression.

"Yes!"

"Bring everything back...regardless of life or death, bring back the truth."

With a flash of light, the twelve silver-masked mages vanished without a sound, leaving behind only an eerie silence.

…………

The first light of dawn shone through the window, casting dappled and hazy shadows inside the room.

Yesterday's revelry has faded away, but the lingering warmth of last night still hangs in the air, so quiet that you can almost hear each other breathing.

Louis slowly opened his eyes, his gaze instinctively sweeping to his side.

Sif was curled up in his arms, her silver hair scattered messily on the pillow, her pale cheeks showing signs of weariness, and her breathing steady and soft.

His gaze paused slightly as he noticed a tear, still wet at the corner of the eye, on the sleeping face.

Louis slowly raised his fingertips and gently wiped away the tear.

"Thank you for your hard work," he murmured softly, turning around and sitting up, skillfully raising his hand.

A semi-transparent light curtain slowly unfolded before his eyes with a "hum," emitting a faint, icy blue light.

[Daily intelligence update complete]

[1: Sorcerer Supreme Aurelion Sol, concerned about the disappearance of his friend Archmage Jurgen Loken, has dispatched twelve Silver Masks to the northern border of the Ironblood Empire to investigate.]

[2: A large number of two-headed bears are expected to migrate in seven days.]

[3: Snow on the mountains is melting rapidly, glacial streams are overflowing, and the Canglu Territory is flooded.]

“Aurelian Thor?” Louis looked at the first one, raising an eyebrow slightly.

He had never heard of this name before, but the title "Supreme Master" was not to be underestimated.

A person who can possess such a title must be no ordinary person.

However, Archmage Loken... he was all too familiar with him.

The old man who collapsed in front of him, who, in his dying moments, managed to expel a wave of energy, stuffing fragmented memories and that primordial meditation technique into his mind…

Louis didn't know any mages at all, had no one to guide him, and didn't know whether his progress was fast or slow.

The entire cultivation process was like groping with one's eyes closed, relying solely on the fragmented memories left to him by the deceased old master.

"Perhaps these twelve silver-masked mages will give me a chance to come into contact with... the real magical world."

But Louis didn't intend to speak about Loken's death casually.

It wasn't that he didn't trust people, but rather that he instinctively felt that knowing too much or speaking too soon might actually cause problems.

Let's not mention it for now, and see how things go after we meet a real monk.

His gaze shifted to the second item, a slight smile playing on his lips: "Two-headed bear migration...resource intelligence."

These two-headed bears are, to put it bluntly, "strategic livestock" in low-magic worlds.

It has low magical content, but a relatively docile temperament. With the help of the Frostleaf Vine cultivated by our family, it has a high probability of being tamed.

The meat of the two-headed bear has a magical quality; it is not only delicious but also slightly good for strengthening the body, making it an excellent supplement to the knights' diet.

It might even develop into a commodity chain, selling to other territories in exchange for resources.

Making "Red Tide Brand Warcraft Jerky" doesn't sound like a bad idea.

He had already planned it out in his mind: he could set up an enclosure to tame, cut, marinate, and smoke the animals.

However, that was seven days later. He silently noted down this piece of information and continued reading the other information.

The third point is a typical early warning intelligence report.

Glacier streams are swelling, and flooding is imminent.

"Don't bother me with such a small matter."

He put on his outer robe, picked up his pen, and wrote a concise and clear letter, instructing the local officials stationed in Canglu Territory:

Reinforce the dikes and urgently evacuate the population;
If there is a shortage of timber and craftsmen, local supplies can be provided.

If necessary, water should be diverted to protect farmland and houses.

After sealing the letter, he went to the window, beckoned a swiftbird, tied the envelope to it, and released it.

The feathered shadow soared into the sky and disappeared.

"Done." He stretched, putting aside all his distracting thoughts for the time being.

With seven days until the two-headed bear appears, the more pressing task now is spring planting.

He had arranged with Mick yesterday to inspect the fields and agricultural affairs today.

…………

The early spring sun still carried a chill, and remnants of snow lingered on the field ridges.

The damp soil mixed with rising white steam made it seem as if the earth was slowly awakening from hibernation.

The sound of plowing was incessant as sturdy oxen dragged improved heavy plows, moving slowly across the slippery soil.

The heavy plow's metal blades cut deep into the frozen soil, turning up the dark earth.

Several shirtless and barefoot farmers stood in the muddy water, their cheeks flushed red by the alternating steam and cold wind, their shouts rising into the air with the white steam.

Mick, walking along the ridge of the field, whispered to Louis beside him, "This field was plowed last year, so this year we only need to lightly hoe and repair the irrigation ditch."

His boots were covered in thick mud, yet he held a lump of wet mud steadily in his hands. Louis watched as he gently rubbed the mud apart, pressing it into his palm as if caressing some extremely precious treasure.

“It’ll be hot for another day,” Mick said, his voice more like addressing the soil than a person. “We can start hoeing this area the day after tomorrow.”

Louis looked down the field ridge, where a thin irrigation ditch meandered between the furrows, shrouded in a warm mist, as if spring was quietly emerging from the ground.

That is hot spring water.

He clearly remembers that in early spring last year, in order to turn the soil and sow seeds before the snow melted, he proposed the idea of ​​"drawing hot spring water to melt the frozen soil".

At the time, everyone looked on with suspicion.

But now, in just one year, the craftsmen are able to lay canals and build trenches on their own, and even control the temperature difference perfectly.

"You did a good job." He nodded with a smile.

Mick stood beside him, his face beaming with delight, clearly recognizing the weight of the compliment.

“We diverted a tributary of the hot springs from the south,” he explained succinctly. “The foreman modified the waterway structure, using a cobblestone trough to stabilize the flow rate and temperature, allowing the hot water to seep evenly into the frozen layer… This brought spring a full two weeks earlier than last year.”

“But look,” Mick then led the lord around to the other side, pointing to a patch of muddy ground with grayish-white crystalline stains, “it’s salt. Geothermal heat thaws quickly, but it also forces the salt and alkali underneath to the surface.”

Next year, we can try covering it with a layer of boards to create a greenhouse-like insulated planting method. The heat won't directly hit the ground, which will help to moderate it.

He didn't say much, but his words were clear, as if he had pondered them repeatedly in his mind.

“Write it down.” Louis nodded and gestured to Sif, who was standing to the side.

At that moment, a pungent smell came from ahead.

Mick paused, turned around and smiled, "Perfect timing, the fertilizer is ready."

Several workers are dumping a truckload of dark brown fertilizer into the field.

As soon as the lid was lifted, the smell, like the rotting gas from the belly of some wild beast, hit my nostrils.

"The base fertilizer is freshly prepared. It contains monster manure, wood ash, fish intestines, and clods of earth powder. Insects dare not approach it, and the fertilizer is very potent," Mick proudly explained.

"Is there enough koji powder left?" Louis asked.

“This is Master Hilko’s new recipe. The alchemy lab is producing at full capacity, enough to support the main fields for spring planting.” Mike paused. “In addition, last year’s giant bones were not wasted.”

Mick led the group to a field marked with a small wooden sign. The sign read in large characters in charcoal: "High-Efficiency Fertilizer Experimental Field".

He walked to a small, fenced-off field: "This is an experimental field. We're using Frost Crystal Ash, extracted from the corpse of that Frost Giant. Let's see how it goes."

Louis said, "Keep going. You've done a good job on agriculture."

Mick scratched his head and smiled a little sheepishly.

Then Mick led Louis to the seedling shed.

The shed was located in a depression at the foot of the mountain on the north side. It was surrounded by thick wooden stakes and animal hides to block the wind, and the top was covered with a translucent grease film, which allowed light to pass through and kept the shed warm.

The air inside the shed was humid and warm, as if every breath carried the scent of earth and decaying leaves.

A faint smell of sulfur mingled with the warmth of the air.

Louis stepped into the seedling shed, and the warm, humid air immediately enveloped him.

In the very center of the open space, a huge fire-backed tortoise lay peacefully asleep.

It curled up in a ball, its shell covered with reddish-brown cracks, as if it were a piece of volcanic rock.

The turtle's breathing was slow and heavy, occasionally punctuated by low purring.

A faint warmth emanated from the cracks in the tortoise shell, dispelling the chill inside the shed.

Mick said in a low voice, "This fireback tortoise has been hibernating here since we brought it from the tropical zone. Its body heat continuously releases heat, which is just enough to maintain the temperature of the hatchery... It's been a stroke of great luck for us this year."

Louis looked at the resting tortoise and nodded to himself. With the Frostleaf Vine stabilizing the Fireback Tortoise, the temperature control problem in the nursery shed was mostly solved.

Along the central path, there are neatly arranged seedbeds on both sides.

The rye sprouts were just emerging with green tips, while turnips and potatoes were still quietly buried in the moist soil.

Mick explained from the side, "Your idea was indeed effective. The advantage of raising seedlings is that we can gain an advantage in advance."

Especially since planting can begin before the fields thaw, it avoids the peak season for pests and diseases, and the seed germination rate is also much higher.

Louis nodded, his gaze fixed on the green shoots that had already broken through the soil: "More importantly, this ensures proper management during the seedling stage."

Centralized seedling cultivation allows for better pest control, watering, and fertilization, and also helps to select weak seedlings, ensuring that only the strongest are transplanted in the end.

He approached a particularly vigorous turnip seedling, gently touched its tender leaves, and felt the seedling's vitality and burgeoning potential: "This is truly a time-saving and labor-saving method."

But Louis also noticed something different; among the rows of lush green seedbeds, there was a corner that looked rather dim.

The edges of these seedlings are black, and the stems are faintly white; it's obvious they've been infected with mold.

Mick strode forward, his tone tinged with regret: "There was a problem with this batch of vaccines, mainly due to the severe dampness and poor ventilation a few nights ago. I've already had them isolated, so it won't spread."

Louis crouched down to take a look and found that the mold was indeed contained in a small area and had been dealt with promptly.

He didn't blame him, but simply said softly, "It's alright, you can arrange it."

Those few words sent a jolt through Mick.

He lowered his head and bowed deeply in response: "...Yes!"

At that moment, Mick's eyes reddened.

He remembered when he first arrived in Red Tide Territory, he was still wearing a slave collar, his palms were covered in frostbite and wounds, and he cowered in the mud and snow, avoiding eye contact.

Now he can stand in the seedling shed, leading his team to cultivate the land, his words are heard, and his suggestions are adopted.

All of this was given to him by the young lord before him, and he would always remember the lord's kindness.

Louis didn't notice Mick's reddened eyes, nor did he realize the weight and gratitude behind the words "I will always remember."

He simply looked at the rows of tender green shoots and silently nodded in his heart: Well done.

This is what he wanted—not just a warm and humid seedling shed, not just those buds and leaves surrounded by mist.

It is a territory that is becoming more orderly, self-sufficient, and even sustainable.

His thoughts had already crossed the sheds and extended to the distant border.

Besides Red Tide Territory, the other five fiefdoms have also begun spring land reclamation.

Although it lacks geothermal resources, fire-backed turtles, and hot spring irrigation canals like the Red Tide Territory.

However, they were provided with land reclamation tools, basic food reserves, and a "red tide model" that had been proven in practice.

If it can be carried through to the end, barring any unforeseen circumstances...

This winter, we may achieve self-sufficiency for the first time and no longer need to buy grain from other places.

Warm air wafted gently from the depths of the seedling shed, carrying the scent of soil and life.

He looked away and nodded to Mick behind him: "Keep it up, and write down all your experiences from this year."

Mick straightened up abruptly, a glint of light in his eyes: "Yes, my lord."

(End of this chapter)