Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 164 Fir Collar

Beyond the Fir Ridge, deep in the dense forest.

The morning breeze rustled through the treetops, dispersing the lingering mist from the night before.

Sunlight filters through the leaves, casting dappled patterns as a well-organized cavalry unit marches along a forest path.

The leader was a young man, wearing a black cloak with silver patterns that shimmered faintly in the sunlight.

He rode his horse along, seemingly just out for a stroll and inspection, showing no sign of tension.

"The lord seems to be in a good mood," a young knight muttered.

His companion nudged him gently with his elbow: "Isn't he always like this? Quite approachable. To be honest, I feel much more at ease with Lord Louis than with anyone else."

Although they were unsure of the specific purpose of this trip, they had already become accustomed to it:
Just do whatever Louis gives you.

Since the Battle of the Snow Oath, the soldiers of the Crimson Tide Territory have developed an almost instinctive trust in this young lord.

Beyond the dense forest, a rocky hill suddenly appears.

The fissure, as if cleaved by the heavens, opened up a dark entrance at an angle. The surrounding area was filled with vines and pebbles eroded by frost, and traces of animals that had once lived there could be vaguely seen.

Louis dismounted and said softly, "Everyone be careful, let's go inside and take a look."

He didn't put on airs or try to appear mysterious.

It was just a sudden whim to explore an old place.

Several knights stepped forward, raising torches as they cleared obstacles ahead.

They were relaxed, and some even joked, "Maybe there's a treasure map hidden in this cave."

But as they went deeper, the laughter gradually disappeared.

Deep inside the cave, it was damp and cold.

Moreover, the air was filled with an indescribable scorching and putrid smell.

These strange smells made them somewhat wary.

Upon reaching a natural cave hall, the light suddenly brightened.

"Sir, there are people ahead!" the scout ahead suddenly shouted a warning.

Everyone immediately went on high alert.

Louis, however, merely straightened his expression, quickened his pace, and walked towards the end illuminated by the firelight.

A figure lay supine on the stone ground, half-submerged in a pool of greenish liquid, the air thick with a stench of sour decay and blood.

His grey-silver robes were already tattered, his left shoulder looked as if it had been scorched by flames, and his armor was charred and torn up.

The exposed skin was covered with black burn marks, and a piece of insect remains was embedded in the wound, still wriggling slightly.

The seal marks, suppressed by magic, shimmered faintly among the flesh, cruel and cold.

“It’s him…” Louis’s gaze sharpened when he saw the terrible injuries.

Just as he was about to approach, a low voice called out from beside him, "Lord Louis, please take a step back!"

It was Lambert, who stood in front of him with a tense expression.

"Last time... you were knocked unconscious by a dying old man who vomited all at once."

Upon hearing this, many knights twitched at the corners of their mouths, clearly remembering it vividly.

Louis, being someone who valued his life, didn't try to be brave.

He took a small half-step back and shrugged: "That was my carelessness."

Two experienced knights quickly stepped forward.

One of them knelt down, reached out and gently checked Lyshill's breath, then examined his wounds and pulse, frowning as he whispered, "He's still alive, but badly injured... he's about to die."

Another knight tried to wake him, his voice not loud, but clear enough: "Hey, can you hear me? Are you alright?"

No response.

The body that lay limp on the ground was like a piece of broken wood from which its soul had been ripped away; its aura was extremely chaotic, with only faint signs of life maintaining its last will.

Louis stood at a distance, staring at the wound on the man's chest.

The entire suit of armor had been completely corroded, the skin and flesh were charred black, and the blood and flesh were mixed with the remains, giving off a nauseating stench.

This scene is chilling.

"...If we had arrived a few hours later, we probably would have been dead."

He squinted, vaguely remembering that although the legendary mage last time was also seriously injured, it seemed that the injuries he suffered were different.

Louis pulled two green vials from his pocket. The vials were silver-plated and sealed, with a warm, lustrous sheen.

"Feed him this." He handed the medicine to the knight beside him.

"Yes."

That was a high-purity life potion produced by the Calvin Chamber of Commerce.

From the moment he became a "mine owner," he stockpiled a lot of goods, which were more useful than gold in the war-torn North.

This is nothing new to him now, but it's a worthwhile investment for this "rare mage".

The knight carefully fed the potion drop by drop into Lyshill's mouth. The process was difficult, but he eventually collapsed successfully.

He drank the second bottle, and after a while, a trace of color gradually appeared on his originally ashen face.

"His breathing has stabilized a bit, and his body temperature has risen," the knight said softly.

“But he’s still unconscious,” Lambert said, frowning.

“Then take him back.” Louis stood up, dusted himself off, and spoke gently.

He sighed softly, his gaze falling on the battered body, a sense of unease rising within him.

"What on earth could have reduced a mage team to this state? And this thing... is even near my territory."

He silently prayed for the unfamiliar monk: "You better live. I wonder what could have done this to you."

After rescuing the dying mage, Louis did not return to Red Tide Territory by the same route.

Instead, following the original plan, they embarked on a journey to Fir Territory.

"Well, it's about time to go..." He stretched on his horse. "After all, that's one of my territories."

This was the first time he had set foot on territory outside of Red Tide Territory, outside of his own domain.

The reason? It can be summed up in two words: too busy.

War, reconstruction, food, refugees, wintering, administrative systems, the Calvin family's affairs in the North...

Each of these items is enough to drain a normal person dry.

“Busy as I may be, I’m still the lord.” He leaned against the car window, a rare hint of anticipation in his eyes. “I really want to see what the Fir Territory will become under the influence of my policies.”

If the situation is ideal, the people will live and work in peace and contentment, tax revenue will be stable, and local officials will be clean and efficient.

Then he can confidently pat him on the shoulder and say, "Well done."

But what if not?

"Hmph..." He curled his lips into a smile, "Then... dismiss everyone and re-examine them."

After all, the policy has already been implemented and the resources have been allocated. If Hanshanling really messes things up, the person in charge cannot escape responsibility.

"Don't blame me for being ruthless," he murmured to himself.

…………

On the other side, in Fir Ridge.

The moment news of Lord Louis's impending visit spread throughout the town, the entire Fir Territory seemed to be set ablaze.

The roads were swept clean and spotless, and were covered with colorful cloths and the Red Tide flags fluttering in the wind.

A festive atmosphere spread, and officials ordered a day off for the entire city.

"No one is allowed to stay at home today; everyone must welcome the lord!" Of course, even without this order, they would still all gather together to welcome the lord.

The square was packed with people. Residents had been gathering on the main street since early morning, wrapped in thick clothes, but their eyes were burning as they gazed at the end of the avenue.

"Will they really come?" a young boy asked his father, looking up at him with uncertainty in his voice.

"Yes, I will." His father patted his head firmly.

The sunlight was blinding, yet the crowd continued to grow.

But by noon, the cavalry had still not appeared.

One of the knights couldn't help but mutter a complaint to the civil official beside him: "Are you sure the lord is coming today? Don't tell me you've got the date wrong."

The civil official shook his head with a wry smile: "Something must have been holding us back."

Just then, a rumbling sound came from afar.

"He's here! Lord Louis is here!!"

The crowd erupted like ignited gunpowder.

Thunderous cheers ripped through the sky, mixed with weeping, kneeling, and near-frenzied shouts.

Some people held their children high, while others tossed their own flowers into the air, as if offering a sacrifice or celebrating a festival;

Some elderly people even knelt down with a thud, their faces covered in tears, murmuring, "The sun... the sun is coming..."

In the center of the crowd, a middle-aged carpenter listened to the cheers and burst into tears.

Several months ago, her daughter Mia was on the verge of death from a high fever.

It was the Red Tide Territory's knight patrol that rescued her and brought her back to Lord Louis's camp, where she was healed with precious potions.

When the plague broke out, he himself was afflicted by the Snow Spirit Curse and was on the verge of death.

It was Louis who personally ventured deep into the hot zone, captured the Fireback Turtle, and established the first steam therapy shed in Fir Territory, pulling him back from the brink of death.

Mia has now been selected as a reserve knight.

Every week, he would send letters back from Red Tide, meticulously detailing the training progress, rifle practice, night patrols, and more...

It made him both proud and heartbroken.

To him, Louis was not only a lord, but also "the man who brought a second life to their family."

But this isn't a feeling that belongs only to his family.

In Fir Territory, on this land that rose from snowstorms and war, almost everyone was saved by that man in dire straits.

The refugees ate their first bowl of hot porridge around the fire;
A woman gave birth on a snowy night and received medical care and charcoal.

Under his protection, the children read, studied, and trained, no longer afraid of the future.

“If it weren’t for him, we would have died that winter long ago,” a woman said tremulously, her eyes still fixed on the end of the road. “He was our only hope.”

Louis rode a tall, snow-maned warhorse, his deep red cloak fluttering in the wind.

He wasn't wearing dazzling armor or carrying extravagant ceremonial regalia; he was simply dressed in a plain battle robe. The wind and snow carried a slight chill, yet it made him appear as if he were bathed in the first rays of dawn.

His features are gentle, and his face is youthful, yet he does not appear frivolous.

It has a gentle and warm quality, like the first ray of sunlight on the horizon at dawn.

Some of the refugees broke down in tears, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming emotional collapse that came after a long drought.

"That's our lord?"

"So young..."

"But...it seems like this isn't the first time I've seen him..."

"Hmm... In my dream... there was a figure, exactly like him."

Soft whispers arose from the crowd.

He was the one who built camps amidst chaos, distributed bread and potions in blizzards, buried corpses after the war, and provided shelter to refugees.

They are the ones who bring hope.

It is neither a legend nor a deity.

Instead, it was the living, breathing, real sun standing right before their eyes.

Some people stared blankly, forgetting to wave, while others collapsed to the ground in tears.

They knelt not out of fear, but out of gratitude; they waved the flag not because of orders, but because of love.

The Red Tide Territory's sun flag was not raised as a symbol.

It's because there really is light up there.

Louis was slightly taken aback when he saw that the crowd's emotions were almost igniting the air.

He wasn't unfamiliar with such situations.

He had already witnessed the celebrations in the Red Tide Territory, the welcome ceremonies for those returning to camp after the war, and the gratitude and tears of the people.

But the scene before us... is even more intense and more real.

Weeping, kneeling, and shouts of gratitude filled the air; unfamiliar yet sincere faces all reflected a gaze bordering on faith.

"Maybe it's because this is my first time in Fir Territory," he sighed softly to himself.

These people have probably been waiting for him for a long time.

He reined in his horse, stopped at the town entrance, and dismounted.

He looked ahead, his voice not loud, but like spring snow melting through ice, it cut through the crowd: "I didn't expect so many people to come to greet me... nor did I expect to be welcomed in this way."

He smiled, his gaze slowly sweeping over each and every citizen, his eyes showing no arrogance, only gentleness and earnestness.

"Perhaps many of you...received food from us during the most difficult times; perhaps some received a blanket, a medicine, or a temporary camp in the snowstorm;
But you have survived to this day because you are strong and brave enough.

I have come today to visit you, to see this land that has risen from suffering.

He continued, his voice carrying a hint of sunshine: "And now, spring has arrived."

The ice and snow are melting, and the land is awakening. This is the season for sowing, and the season for hope.

I don't need you to do anything for me, and I don't want you to express your gratitude verbally.

"If you can work hard, cultivate the land, protect your families, and contribute to the territory this spring, that will be the best reward for me."

There was silence.

The wind blew across the square, brushing against the hair and hems of the crowd.

Immediately afterwards, someone choked up, as if emotions suppressed throughout the winter had finally found an outlet.

Someone choked up in a low voice first: "We will try our best, my lord..."

Soon, emotions spread like an avalanche.

"I'm definitely going to plant two more rows this year!"

"We will no longer flee; this land is our home!"

A burst of enthusiastic shouts and applause erupted from the crowd; some waved flags, while others were moved to tears.
Some children even knelt down and shouted, "Long live the Red Tide! Long live the Lord!"

That wasn't just a slogan; it was a true testament to their survival.

They had seen this light in the darkness before.

Now they are willing to live for this light.

The flag of the Red Tide Territory is fluttering in the wind.

Its base color is scarlet like blood, yet it gleams with a warm golden glow in the sunlight.

The golden sun in the center of the flag seemed to truly shine.

(End of this chapter)