Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 170 Teacher, I want to learn magic!

On the southern slope of Chichao Ridge, the newly built bee farm has already taken shape.

The entire site is situated in a sheltered, sunny valley, covered with a semi-transparent animal skin dome to protect it from the cold.

The red cedar beehives are neatly arranged, occasionally emitting a soothing pale blue mist, exuding the scent of frost-covered vines and night-blooming moss.

The swarm of blue-striped bees flew quietly and orderly in the air.

"The bee colony is in very good condition," the accompanying beekeeper reported to Louis. "The queen bee has adapted to the new hive, and honey collection is stable. We expect to expand the colony next month."

Louis nodded, looking satisfied.

The honey produced by this bee colony may not have a strong boost to its fighting spirit, but it is stable and long-lasting.

This perfectly complements Frostblood Redberry, creating a supplement suitable for regular use by knights.

He turned to his old butler, Bradley, and instructed him, "You're in charge of this matter. Make sure everything is handled properly, from honey collection and storage to subsequent processing. Once the Frostblood Redberries bear fruit, we'll get Hillco to cooperate with us and combine them to develop a highly effective Knight's Supplement."

Bradley's eyes flashed with a rare excitement after hearing this.

He understood what this meant, of course. It was not just about honey resources, but symbolized the birth of one generation of knights after another, and the rise of the Red Tide's military strength!

“Understood, sir.” He took a deep breath and nodded solemnly. “I will personally oversee the process and ensure that not a single drop of honey is wasted.”

Just then, someone on horseback arrived at the bee farm, interrupting the two's conversation.

"My lord!" An armored knight dismounted, his face slightly sweaty, and bowed.

He was one of the knights sent by Lambert to search for the ruins of the mage's battle.

“You’re back.” Louis stood up, brushing the straw off his cloak. “How did the investigation go?”

"Reporting to Your Excellency, we have searched the entire area around Fir Ridge along the route." The knight unfolded the parchment map in his hand and tapped the markings on it with his knuckles. "We can indeed see traces of intense battles, such as burned forests and fractured ley lines."

"Are there any bodies?" Louis asked calmly.

“…Not a single one.” The knight hesitated for a moment. “Not even a trace of blood is visible, as if…it was deliberately cleaned up.”

Louis didn't speak, but just stared at the map for a few seconds, signaling him to continue.

The knight added, "Even... the traces of a fight don't look like those left by a battle of auras."

“What do you mean?” Louis didn’t look up, his eyes fixed on the spread-out map.

He knew it was a battle between mages and corpse worms, but he still wanted to hear what it was like.

"The ground was indeed badly damaged, but not from weapon strikes; it was more like... high-temperature erosion." The knight paused.

"There were several places where the ground collapsed, charred and brittle, as if it had been splashed with some kind of highly corrosive liquid. But the surrounding vegetation was intact, as if only the designated area had been burned."

Corrosion, yet it didn't spread?

Louis tapped lightly on a gray shadow on the map with his fingertip. "Where are those traces concentrated?"

"There are tent wrecks, campfire sites, and the edges of several boulders. In the worst areas, not even a clod of earth remains."

The knight paused, as if choosing his words carefully, "It's not fire, it's more like... more like it was 'corroded' by something and then evaporated."

"Besides that, there is another detail that is rather unusual."

"explain."

"There was a smell that was hard to describe in the air."

Louis raised an eyebrow slightly. "Is it the smell of blood?"

"No, the smell of blood is stronger and more pungent. It's like... the smell of a corpse rotting in the hot weather for ten or fifteen days, but mixed with the smell of metal and rotten eggs."

The knight shook his head, frowning as he recalled, "The smell was incredibly sticky, clinging to our nasal cavity. Even two hours after we returned, we still felt the residue on our clothes."

Is it from a single source, or the entire region?

"The entire area... a gust of wind could stretch all the way to the other side of the woods." There was a hint of unease in the knight's eyes.

"Moreover, nothing grows in those scorched areas. But the grass further away is unaffected, it looks like... someone precisely drew a boundary, and everything inside was burned, corroded, and wiped out, while the outside wasn't touched at all."

"Not even a wild animal has come near?" Louis asked slowly.

"No... absolutely not. We originally thought that wolves would come closer to hunt after the battle, but the area was eerily quiet, and we didn't see a single insect."

He paused for a few seconds, then carefully added, "It's like... being cursed."

Louis stared at the mark of the woodland on the map without saying a word.

The knight waited two seconds, then said, "Your report is complete."

"I understand. You can go now, but remember not to tell anyone about this."

"Yes." The knight bowed and quickly left.

Beside the beehive, bees hummed softly like a tide, and the afternoon sun cast dappled light and shadow on the surface of the wooden box.

Louis stood in front of the fence, his fingers gently brushing against a worker bee that was crawling slowly, but his gaze was far away from it.

As the knight's footsteps faded into the distance.

Louis looked away and called out calmly, "Lambert."

Lambert strode over from under the shade of the tree, his face devoid of any smile. He had overheard the conversation briefly and his expression had already turned serious.

As one of the few people in the know, he was well aware that the area was not an ordinary battlefield.

That's where Rayhill and the other two silver-masked mages were attacked by the insectoid corpses.

According to the knight, nothing was left at the scene except for the lingering smell of decay.

“You heard the situation too,” Louis said, looking at him. “There wasn’t a single body left. Even the bloodstains seemed to have been… completely wiped clean.”

“And that stench.” He paused, a cold glint in his eyes. “It’s not the smell of an ordinary corpse.”

Lambert nodded silently, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly.

According to the knight, it was the aura of something "inhuman," as if death had been fermented and then expelled back into the world, so strong that it would make the battlefield knight vomit.

“I don’t think it’s natural cleanup,” Louis said, his gaze lowered. “It shouldn’t be something any animal was feeding on. It’s more like they were ‘covering up the traces’ themselves.”

Lambert's expression was very solemn.

If even the dead insects know how to clean up the scene, it means that there is an organization behind them, that they are intelligent, or that they are being controlled by someone.

“We must get moving.” Louis turned and ordered, “Send more knights immediately to expand the search radius and conduct a thorough search within a five-mile radius.”

"clear."

"Five to six knights are stationed in that area for regular patrols. They rotate shifts three times a day, and they are not allowed to relax at night."

"Yes."

“And…” Louis’s voice suddenly lowered, “tell them to be careful. Very careful. If they see any strange corpses, rotting stench, or even moving ‘shadows’… they must not approach them and must immediately withdraw the report.”

Lambert pursed his lips and bowed his head to accept the order.

If what the Search Knight and Lyshill said is true, then these orders are by no means an exaggeration.

Louis stood before the beehives, watching Lambert's retreating figure, his heart heavy as he considered other possible solutions.
It's not enough to do it alone; we must tell the Duke of Edmund about this.

He possesses greater resources, stronger fighting force, and intelligence on the true defenses of the North. If these "insect corpses" were indeed released by some enemy…

This Lord of the North probably knows what they are, and there's even a high chance he's seen similar cases before.

This was not an ordinary skirmish, nor was it simply a matter of two mages losing contact.

"We need to make him take this seriously."

Of course, it's not that the monk's affairs can't be talked about, but it's just that not everything can be said.

Even Duke Edmund shouldn't know the Silver Mask's true identity or how he met him.

Louis prepared to give a somewhat vague report:
The patrolling knights of the Crimson Tide Territory discovered an unusual battle site. The ground was charred and the air reeked of a strong stench of decay, suggesting an encounter with some unknown monster or spell.

A seriously injured survivor, whose identity was unknown, was found nearby. The person happened to be passing by and took him in for treatment.

It is simple enough, yet it hides a dangerous signal.

This "unknown danger" is precisely what makes the Duke most concerned.

“Let him prepare early,” Louis said softly, as if speaking to himself.

For a moment, only the buzzing of bees echoed in the ears of the apiary.

The sunlight slanted down and fell on the wooden lid of the beehive, making it feel warm and cozy.

But Louis had a heavy stone weighing on his heart that he couldn't shake off.

He sighed and looked up at the sky.

The great daily intelligence system, give us some information about the bugs.

…………

The weather was sunny and the sun felt warm on my skin.

Leisher sat quietly in his wheelchair, letting the nurse behind him slowly push him along the streets of Red Tide Territory.

The sunlight wasn't harsh, and the breeze carried the enticing aroma of smoked fish.

He was wearing a woolen cloak, and although his face was still pale, there was a hint of spirit in his eyes.

This chair, which can slide on the ground, is said to have been invented by Lord Louis.

The axles and handrails are specially designed so that even one person can easily operate them.

The people of the Red Tide Territory call it a "wheelchair," and it seems to be quite popular, especially for the elderly and the injured, as it is almost like some kind of magic.

"He even thought of such details... The Crimson Tide Lord is indeed no ordinary person," Leishir murmured.

Leisher twitched his fingers slightly, trying to draw upon magic, but his body remained empty.

The familiar flow of magic seemed to have vanished, leaving only a dry, empty shell.

He lowered his head, his fingertips trembling slightly, a sense of gloom rising in his heart.

Although he has been awake for several days, the aftereffects of that excessive consumption that nearly burned out his soul are far from over.

He was still unable to cast spells; even the most basic summoning spells had lost their ability to respond.

That connection that once linked me to the world is now like a broken string, with no companions responding and no spiritual echoes resonating.

Leisher is now unable to cast even a simple fireball.

Worse still, this emptiness isn't temporary; it might be...

It forever changed his path of magical practice.

Even if his magic power gradually recovers in the future, he may not be able to return to his peak state.

This is not ordinary fatigue, but a sign of damage to the foundation.

He felt anxious, frustrated, and even a little fear.

More importantly, he had considered countless times reporting this crisis and his experience to His Holiness the Venerable Master immediately.
However, without magic, he couldn't even send a message.

So they are forced to stay here, quietly waiting to recover, or waiting for their companions to come to them.

This was his third walk outside in the Red Tide Territory, in order to clear his mind.

He had expected a long and tedious wait, but the territory unexpectedly caught his eye.

The streets are simple but clean and orderly, and although there are not many shops, they are very lively.

What surprised him most was that the people here actually had smiles on their faces.

Such a smile is extremely rare in a place like the North.

Children chased and played on the street, women carried fish baskets back from the market, and men sat on the drying platform repairing tools and drinking hot soup.

“What a rare sight…” Lyhill watched as a pair of children ran past his wheelchair.

When I heard them laughing and shouting things like "Do you believe in light?", I couldn't help but smile slightly.

This territory is quite different from the rest of the North.

The wheelchair moved slowly along the street, with Leahy sitting in it, wearing a long, light gray cloak, watching the children chasing and playing in the distance.

His lips twitched, and just as a slight smile appeared, a cheerful greeting reached his ears.

"Hey, Leahy, you look great today."

His savior, Louis, seemed to have wandered over by chance and stood beside him with a relaxed expression.

Leisher looked up, saw the familiar face, and quickly nodded in greeting.

“Thanks to you, I can walk a bit on my own now… but,” he lowered his head, pausing slightly, “I can’t use magic yet, and my summoning spells are unresponsive. I’m afraid I’ll have to stay here a while longer. Thank you for your help.”

“It’s not a hassle here,” Louis chuckled, his gaze sweeping into the distance. “You can stay as long as you want, no one will rush you.”

Leisher paused for a moment, then lowered his head and said softly, "...Thank you."

He was deeply moved and thought Louis was a really good person.

Louis slowly squatted down beside the wheelchair, casually picking up a blade of grass from the roadside: "I sent people to investigate the place where your accident happened."

Leisher paused slightly, his eyelashes trembling.

“There was indeed a fierce battle in that area.” Louis looked at him with a hint of apology in his eyes. “Unfortunately… we didn’t find the bodies of your two companions. There were no insect corpses either, not even a trace of blood was left.”

Leisher was silent for a few seconds, a dark glint flashing in his eyes.

He slowly gripped the armrest and whispered, "That means... they weren't eliminated at all."

The wind blew across his pale profile, and the pride that once belonged to the Silver-Masked Mage now turned into an unconcealable worry and anxiety.

Just as he lowered his head slightly, lost in brief contemplation...

Louis suddenly spoke, his tone seemingly casual yet carrying a hint of seriousness: "By the way, once you've recovered a bit... could you teach me some magic?"

Leisher paused for a moment, then looked up. "Huh? You mean you want to learn magic?"

(End of this chapter)