Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 265 War of Fury
"Why... how could this happen..."

Batu sat motionless amidst the ruins, his eyes bloodshot and his lips cracked, yet he could not utter a sound.

The battle is over.

The Red Rock Shattered Axe Alliance—the most elite heavily armored tribal army of the northern barbarians—is now nothing but scorched earth and broken bones.

The blood and mud covering the mountains and fields were still wet, the battle flags were torn and tattered in the flames, and armor and severed limbs were buried intertwined on the scorched grassy slopes.

The air was thick with the stench of burnt fur and flesh. The wolf riders' corpses were piled up haphazardly, their battle axes stuck in the back of warriors' heads, and flies buzzed and swarmed around the mountain of corpses.

Last night, they still had five times the enemy's strength, occupied the advantageous terrain, built their camp high, and were fully equipped. Their cavalry lined up on the slope like an iron torrent.

The Shattered Axe tribe even hung their ancestral battle flag in the heart of their camp, swearing an oath to "fight to the death."

Moreover, for a whole month prior, the Frostfire Legion had been suffering repeated defeats.

The Shattered Axemen cheered every day that "the final battle is imminent," and even the tribal elders predicted that Frostfire would only last one more day, which would be the moment when the northern tribes would divide the spoils in victory.

Everyone thought it was a crushing victory.

However, before dawn, the inside game had already collapsed.

Without warning, without the sound of fighting, the main force of the army was as if it had been sliced ​​in half by an invisible blade, broken in one direction.

The initial anomaly was just a minor malfunction... First, communication was suddenly cut off, and the trumpeter's brass horn emitted a sharp, lingering sound before abruptly stopping.

Then the outermost guards abandoned their lines, some even turning and rushing towards their own main tent, like wolves charging into a sheepfold, their eyes bloodshot.

He witnessed some familiar martial arts warriors suddenly turn their spears around and stab their own brothers with ruthless and unwavering movements.

The brother beside him had his throat slit open, collapsed to the ground, thick black blood gushing from his mouth, his eyes filled with confusion, bewilderment, and despair.

He even tried to shout "Why" with his last breath.

But no one answered him.

More soldiers rushed out of their tents, their eyes terrifyingly empty, as if their consciousness had been stripped away.

They no longer distinguished between friend and foe; some even chopped their battle axes into the necks of their own horses, just to make them whistle.

The tent exploded in the flames, releasing a mixture of blood and alcohol, creating a pungent, burnt aroma that made it hard to breathe.

Shouts, screams, crashes, and the sound of bones breaking—all intertwined to create a symphony of hell.

Batu roared an order to assemble, but no one responded.

He barely made it to the central command after charging through three walls of fire, only to find a ground littered with severed limbs and defectors...

This is not a defeat in battle, but a collapse of morale.

The entire legion seemed to have their loyalty and reason stolen from their souls at the same moment.

It's not magic, yet it's more terrifying than magic.

Because what they lost was their will as human beings.

Just when the Shattered Axe camp was at its most chaotic and vulnerable, the warriors of the Frostfire tribe finally appeared in the white mist in the distance.

They didn't blow horns, shout, or even hear the thunder of cavalry hooves.

They advanced silently through the morning mist like a thick iron wall. Only the lifeless eyes beneath their brows were terrifying.

As the first rays of sunlight shone down, it became clear that their armor was still stained with wet blood, and the long swords in their hands gleamed with a cold light...

They charged.

There were no roars, no slogans, yet it was more chilling than any scream.

The rhythm of their footsteps was like a funeral procession, not for themselves, but for the chaotic, lost, and will-shattered enemies before them.

Some of the warriors from Shattered Axe finally came to their senses and tried to resist, but their formation had already collapsed.

They frantically raised their shields, but could not stop the dense, avalanche-like charge.

Halberds pierced chests, blunt weapons shattered helmets, and rows of people were knocked over and trampled.

The camp gate was as flimsy as paper; it was smashed down.

"Retreat! Retreat!" a lieutenant shouted hoarsely, but his voice was drowned out by the sounds of weapons slicing through the air and flesh tearing apart.

The Frostfire Legion was like a cold plague, slowly eroding the entire camp from the edge of the battlefield, each step treading on pools of blood, each strike revealing an undeniable determination.

They weren't fighting; they were sweeping.

Like a group of merciless "executors".

“How could this be… just like that…” Batu knelt amidst the pile of corpses, the world before him burning and collapsing.

His armor was charred black, and his palms were covered in blood and mud, along with bits of his comrades' hair.

My thoughts were still churning, the chaotic battle scenes and the constantly collapsing orders in my mind intertwined.

Just then, a gust of wind swept across the scorched earth. Amidst the swirling ashes, a figure seemed to be walking against the wind.

Batu suddenly looked up, and Titus Frostfire was already standing in front of him.

For a moment, Batu almost thought he was hallucinating.

He had no followers, only himself, but he was like the embodiment of the fury of the entire battlefield.

The cloak fluttered slightly, carrying with it the smell of gunpowder and the acrid stench of burnt ashes.

Shuang Lie wore heavy armor, but without any family crest or color, as if it were a battle suit made specifically for death.

On his face, besides his calm, almost deathly eyes, there were gray-black lines like vines, spreading from the corners of his eyes to the sides of his neck, like withered branches entwined, etched on his skin.

But the way he looked at Batu felt like a lead weight pressing on his chest, making him instinctively want to avoid eye contact, lower his head, and submit.

Batu was panting heavily, his chest heaving violently. His eyes were bloodshot, and the anger on his face was gradually masking an indescribable panic.

"What kind of sorcery did you use!" he roared, his voice hoarse like burnt cloth. "Was it poison? A curse? Or... some evil spirit crawled into our brains and tore us apart one by one?"

He staggered forward a step, as if to pounce, but stopped abruptly at the last moment, as if he had hit some invisible line of death.

"Your men...you have so few men! How could this be possible?! Five times the strength, triple-walled camps, the Ancestral Spirit Battle Banner flying high, how could we possibly lose?!"

"Your men aren't warriors, they're scum who betrayed their chieftain! How could they possibly tear us apart?!"

His eyes flickered, and his hand pointing at Titus trembled slightly, as if in the final struggle before going mad.

“You are not human,” he whispered, as if cursing, or as if talking to himself. “You are not human…you are some kind of…some kind of calamity.”

Finally, he staggered back a step, as if he had gone mad: "This shouldn't be happening...this can't be...this isn't the kind of power this world should have."

The wind blew across the scorched earth, ruffling the tattered edges of the broken axe banner.

However, Titus merely sneered.

The smile was as cold as a thorn piercing from the depths of ice; it was neither joy nor anger, but simply disdain. "You still don't understand," he said in a low, hoarse voice.

Batu wanted to retort, but his throat felt blocked by something, his tongue felt heavy as lead, and the words swirled around at the back of his tongue, but he couldn't say them.

Then, suddenly, it was as if a long-sealed book had been violently turned over in his mind, filled with memories he didn't want to recall.

He saw imperial cavalrymen raising their muskets as they trampled through his childhood village, his mother's blood splattered on the snow, and his father forced to kneel and swallow orders.

He saw the first night he gritted his teeth and endured humiliation, and heard the silence, intrigue, and compromises disguised as "oaths" in the Red Rock tribe.

These humiliations and hatreds that he should have buried deep inside were now torn apart like a tidal wave, flooding his mind frame by frame, as if forcibly revealed by "some force".

His eyes twitched violently, but he couldn't utter a single word.

Titus simply watched him silently.

There was no raising of his hand, no magical fluctuations, and not the slightest hint of intimidation.

But standing there, he seemed to be the axis of the entire world.

The surrounding Frostfire warriors did not move a single soldier, yet each of them remained as composed as a statue, their breathing synchronized and their aura steady.

Batu, without realizing it, began to unconsciously follow their breathing rhythm, his body expanding and contracting as if being pulled by an invisible string.

He saw Titus's figure flicker in his pupils, like a ghostly figure engulfed by flames, eventually blurring into a bizarre scene.

It was a land entwined with gray vines, cold flames burning on the vines, hills collapsing, streams frozen, and countless dark figures kneeling in the distance, as if silently begging for mercy.

…………

The gray-blue morning mist had not yet dissipated, but the chimneys above the smelter had already begun to emit smoke, and the aura of the Qi vein stone floated slightly in the air.

Louis stood on the ironwood railing on the high ground, gazing at the bustling scene in the underground area.

Teams of laborers in gray cloth uniforms filed in, and knights patrolled the well, so the order was not chaotic.

"Have they already gone down the well?" he asked casually.

Kyle stepped forward, his face as serious as ever. "The main mine just finished this morning, and the branch mines around it have all started operations. According to the phased arrangement, that batch of... the labor force supported by the Empire has also been fully incorporated into the mine line work teams."

Louis nodded. "How much in total?"

“Five thousand and seventy-three people,” Kyle answered precisely. “Nearly seventy percent of them have criminal records, mostly redemption soldiers, family members of convicted officials, or exiled slaves. They have been divided into groups to work in the mines, as you instructed. Ten people are grouped together, with experienced workers mentoring newcomers.”

"Nothing went wrong, right?"

Kyle shook his head: "There were very few accidents, and the few minor conflicts were all suppressed. On the contrary... they worked harder than expected. Some even worked through the night... hoping to change their identities as soon as possible."

Louis smiled. "Looks like these criminals can still be saved. What about those with no prior convictions up there?"

“I followed your instructions and incorporated it into the factory production line.” Kyle nodded. “I’m responsible for selecting, cleaning, batching ore in front of the furnace, cooling, and pouring it into the mold…”

Their movements weren't fast yet, but they learned the rules very diligently. This is probably because of your policy of 'those who perform well can gradually be freed from slavery.'"

Louis's voice was calm: "As long as they're willing to work, I don't care if they're slaves or not."

The Red Tide Territory has already tested this; as long as the system holds up, these people are willing to endure hardship and work tirelessly for freedom. They are far superior to those free people who just coast along.

Kelton paused, then asked softly, "You... really intend to release them all?"

“It’s not about letting them go, it’s about letting them earn their own way,” Louis said calmly. “I’m giving them a path, whether they take it or not is up to them.”

After saying that, he patted Kyle on the shoulder: "I'll head back to Red Tide Territory first. It'll be harvest season soon, and I'll be there too."

Kelton looked up immediately: "Lord Louis... this is just the beginning, you're not here..."

“It’s on track.” Louis raised his hand to interrupt him. “You follow my plan. After the second batch of equipment arrives, expand two production lines and train the new crew into skilled workers.”

Remember to report back weekly, and tell me all your questions via the Swiftbird; I will definitely reply.

Kyle was silent for a moment, then bowed and said in a low voice, "Your subordinate... will certainly not disappoint you."

Louis said nothing more.

He glanced one last time in the direction of the mining area.

The firelight flickered at the wellhead in the distance, like a heart burning underground. Hundreds and thousands of figures moved like ants, yet their steps were orderly.

The heavy rails groaned as mine carts drove one after another toward the gold refinery, where piles of Qi vein stones were stacked like small mountains.

Sweat, heat, and the sound of gears—at this moment, these elements formed the true pulse of Star Forging.

He then turned around, his cloak swaying gently in the wind.

At the end of the slope, Sif, dressed simply, was waiting for him with her horse in hand, a smile playing on her lips, but she didn't urge him on.

The convoy behind her was already lined up.

Several reinforced black iron boxes had been loaded into the middle carriage and sealed by Kyle himself.

Inside are several graded and selected samples of Qi vein stones, as well as refining formulas and equipment parameter records that have just been registered and numbered.

Each item is not just stone or paper, but rather the most crucial "list of achievements" of Star Forging Leader over the past two months.

Nearly fifty knights accompanied him, all clad in light armor and ready to go.

Louis didn't say much, just glanced at the sky and raised his hand in acknowledgment.

As the horn sounded, the convoy turned onto the mountain road. In the dust kicked up at the rear of the convoy, the well towers and elevated structures of the Star Forging Mine slowly emerged from the twilight.

…………

The carriage swayed gently as it slowly made its way along the wide, smooth official road.

The car windows were covered with soft curtains, blocking out the sunlight, but you could still feel the rising sun outside.

When Louis woke up on the soft cushions in the car, the ceiling above him was carved with golden vine patterns, and the car was filled with a faint fragrance of wood and saffron.

This is no longer the simple horse-drawn carriage it once was.

With the rapid development of the Red Tide Territory, Louis no longer adhered to the early strategy of "pretending to be poor and trying to be approachable."

In this world, noble status is sometimes not a burden, but rather a necessary suit of armor.

This vehicle was built to the standards of the "Earl's Carriage" in the southern part of the empire, with widened axles for shock absorption, full leather-wrapped silver seats, and a small ventilation array on the roof and a separate cold water tea cabinet.

It is both luxurious and practical, capable of traversing muddy roads and snowfields, and can also be parked outside a noble meeting hall without appearing shabby.

And right next to him was Sif.

She was sleeping soundly, half her face buried in his arms, her breathing long and even.

Louis moved his shoulder without waking her, and lightly waved his finger in the air.

[Daily intelligence update complete]

(End of this chapter)