Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 266 Frosty Scout

[Daily intelligence update complete]

[1: Out of boredom, Asta Augustus toured the North, and Red Tide Territory was one of his key targets for investigation.]

[2: Hamilton, a young apprentice craftsman in the Red Tide Territory, possesses a rare combined talent in mechanics and alchemy, and may become a master craftsman in the future.]

[3: Titus of the Frostfire tribe led 3,000 elite troops, with the help of the Scorching Vine Court, to launch an offensive against the Shattered Axe and Red Rock tribes. Despite being outnumbered, he achieved a decisive victory and forcibly incorporated the two barbarian armies into his command.]

[4: The vanguard and scout forces dispatched by the Frostfire Tribe have quietly crossed the border and are secretly stationed in a canyon area not far from Red Tide Territory.]

Upon seeing the first item, he didn't even lift his eyelids, and his lips twitched almost imperceptibly.

There was little surprise, nor any tension.

“Let him come if he wants,” Louis said calmly, leaning back on the cushions. “We’ll see him sooner or later anyway.”

Given the current size of the Red Tide Territory, it's impossible for them to hide anything anymore. Towns, roads, factories, thermal power plants... let him see everything he can."

He paused, his tone calm but tinged with sarcasm: "Of course, the truly valuable things won't be displayed right at the entrance."

The original formula for Frostleaf Potion, the structure of Magic Bomb, the recipe for Honey Aura Potion...

He never intended to show these things to anyone, let alone the sixth prince of the Iron Blood Empire.

He tapped his knee with his knuckles. “But it’s not a bad thing to let him see the order and efficiency of the Red Tide.”

His gaze then fell on the second piece of intelligence: a young artisan apprentice within the Crimson Tide Territory...

This time, his gaze noticeably sharpened.

"Oh?"

He raised an eyebrow, and a long-lost interest resurfaced in his eyes.

He reached into his side pocket and pulled out a thick booklet, his "talent list," which he kept with him at all times, specifically for gathering this kind of intelligence.

The book records the names of various people selected from the daily intelligence reports, from agricultural official Mick to craftsman Valentine, and administrative officer knight Green... most of them have now become indispensable backbone forces on various main lines of the Red Tide Territory.

"They were able to get several industries up and running so quickly... all thanks to this intelligence." He thought to himself, flipping through a few pages before stopping at the most recent entry and writing:
[Number 147: Hamilton - Craftsman Apprentice - Potential in both mechanics and alchemy]

He closed the notebook and gently tapped the cover: "I've struck gold again."

Louis's gaze lingered on the third piece of information for an unusually long time.

He was originally leaning back in the car seat, holding an intelligence booklet in one hand, his expression relaxed and lazy.

But upon seeing this message, his eyes narrowed instantly, and he sat up straight.

Intelligence from a few days ago indicated that Titus had suffered a series of defeats and that the Frostfire tribe was on the verge of collapse.

Originally thought that the Frostfire tribe was about to withdraw from the chessboard of the struggle for supremacy in the North, it turned out to be a complete reversal overnight, and even swallowed up two barbarian armies.

This turn of events is too abrupt, too fast, and too strange.

He frowned slightly and tapped the words "Burning Heartbreak in the Vine Garden" with his fingers.

"Burning Vine Garden? What is that?"

He had never heard of this term before, nor had any official document mentioned it.

A completely unfamiliar "trump card" that could rewrite the course of the battle suddenly appeared.

It only reminded him of those mother nests that sprang up from the ground, a nightmare he didn't want to relive.

"It's some kind of ancient magic again..."

His eyes turned cold, and his vigilance instantly spiked. In any case, it was time to redeploy the Red Tide Territory's military system.

This so-called "Frostfire Alliance" will probably not last long before it integrates into a new military order in the North.

Once they unite, the Red Tide, as the most stable force in the North, will undoubtedly become one of the battlefields.

Preparations must be made in advance.
Then he calmly glanced at the fourth piece of information.

"Scouts have crossed the border and are stationed on the edge of my territory..."

Louis squinted, pondered for a few moments, then gently tapped the car window frame: "On the way back, detour to the vicinity of that canyon and 'invite' that group over."

His gaze shifted to Sif, who was still fast asleep beside him.

Her white hair was scattered messily on the blanket, her long eyelashes trembled slightly, and her face was serene.

Wasn't the Frostfire Tribe the predecessor of the Cold Moon Tribe?
If those vanguards were truly remnants of the Cold Moon Clan, Sif... might still recognize them.

When the time comes, we might as well let her talk first.

After reading the intelligence, Louis closed the intelligence booklet with a swift and decisive motion.

Even while traveling, he never slacked off in his daily training.

He closed his eyes slightly, sat cross-legged in the center of the carriage, slowly circulating his internal energy breathing technique while guiding the magical flow of meditation in his mental realm.

The two intertwine, and with each breath, the Qi and blood resonate with the spiritual energy, immersing the person in a state of calm and stillness.

He has persisted in this practice for many years, and it has long been integrated into his life, as natural as eating and sleeping.

After finishing his cultivation, he opened his eyes, his expression even more restrained and sharp.

"Hmm, you've finally finished your training?" A familiar girl's voice rang out in the car.

Sif had gotten up at some point and changed her clothes. She was wearing a clean and light travel dress, and her white hair was tied into loose braids, which made her look radiant yet languid.

She came over carrying a small silver tray with a delicate breakfast: toasted bread rolls, hot pies with cheese filling, and jams and smoked meats, a specialty of the Red Tide Territory.

"I specifically asked them to prepare this beforehand. If you don't get up soon, you'll all get cold."

Sif turned her head away, a slight smile playing on her lips: "You start cultivating as soon as you wake up again. It's rare to have someone to have breakfast with me."

Louis reached out and took the tray, looking at her with a smile: "Isn't it because someone was here that they prepared it for me in advance?"

"Hmph, sweet talker." She pouted, sat down next to him, picked up a piece of jam bread and took a bite, chewing it very seriously.

The two ate quietly, and the atmosphere was warm and peaceful for a moment.

“By the way,” Louis suddenly spoke up halfway through the meal, “the barbarian tribes are at war again.”

Sif paused, her hand holding the fork still, and her expression slightly changed.

“…Mmm.” She responded softly, lowering her eyes.

Louis looked at her, his expression unchanged, but he carefully observed every detail of her reaction.

Two years ago, she had already told him her identity: the last princess of the Cold Moon tribe.

She still hates those who killed her father and exterminated her clan, but it remains unclear who did it or which knife brought down her father's head.

Blood flowed like rivers back then, and the truth had long been buried in the tribal warfare.

This hatred has no target, no way to retaliate, so it can only be sealed in the heart, like an unsheathed sword, swallowed in silence day after day.

“…I know that one of them harmed my father,” she said softly, her eyes gazing at the misty mountains outside the car window. “But I still don’t know exactly who it is.”

She paused, her voice lowering even further: "And nobody remembers the name Hanyue anymore."

Over the years, she had worked alongside Louis, gradually assisting in the management of the Red Tide, transforming from a junior secretary into a de facto ruler. She personally handled everything from political affairs and mining to defense line coordination, and the hatred was gradually masked by these mundane tasks.

But it's not that I've forgotten; I'm just trying my best not to think about it.

"If I could..." she lowered her head, a little shy, but still frankly said, "Right now, all I want is to be with you, to give you a son, and to stay by your side..."

A moment of silence fell over the carriage. Louis raised an eyebrow, a hint of a sigh and pity flashing in his eyes.

"This is not like the way you always gritted your teeth two years ago."

"You want me to still be like that? Are you a pervert?" She glared at him lightly and retorted softly.

“No.” Louis reached out and stroked her hair, smiling slightly. “But since they’ve reappeared, we’ll have to face them sooner or later.”

Sif didn't speak, but simply nodded slightly.

…………

This scout team consisted of only a dozen or so men, but each of them was clad in heavy furs and had sharp eyes.

Their appearance differs slightly from that of typical barbarians; they are more silent and reserved.

The animal skin battle robe was not adorned with exaggerated bone ornaments, but rather had a muted color scheme, making it easier to move stealthily through the snowy forest.

A woman was walking at the front.

She was tall and slender, carrying a double-edged spear on her back, with a band of pale silver wolf skin wrapped around her shoulder armor, and a feathered hairpin tucked into her hair.

Those were traditional ornaments of the former members of the Cold Moon Tribe, symbolizing "an inextinguishable fire beneath the cold frost".

His face was sharply defined, and his eyes were like the sharp edge of a blade beneath the ice. Though he didn't speak, he made the burly men behind him instinctively put away their frivolousness.

Her name was Vesa, and she was the temporary leader of this small group.

They were originally members of the Cold Moon tribe, but were forced to submit after Frostfire defeated Cold Moon. Now they are just remnants in the Frostfire tribe, and are not even officially registered as soldiers.

Vesa and her squad belonged to the Coldmoon loyalists and were sent by Titus to the North to spy on others. Nominally, they were the vanguard, but in reality, they were nothing more than marginalized and discarded pawns.

They knew that true trust had been buried in the snow along with the blood on the day the Cold Moon was destroyed.

However, if they can achieve some military merit here, they might be able to regain some initiative.

For myself, and for that old flag that has long since crumbled.

So they traveled south.

The first impression upon crossing the border was one of desolation.

Withered grasslands, dilapidated camps, villages half-rebuilt after being burned down, and skeletons drifting in the wind along the road, not yet cleaned up.

The calamity brought by the Mother Nest nearly plunged the entire northern border of the Empire into hell.

After all, the Mother Nest was initially established within the Empire by the Despair Witches' planting base, and the first wave of attacks was directed entirely at Frostspear City.

Instead, the barbarian tribes outside the northern borders, being too far from the center of the mother nest, were only slightly disturbed by the ripples.

Thus, the current situation has become extremely ironic: the wilderness remains intact, while the empire's northern border has been severely damaged.

They began to whisper among themselves: if Shuanglie could truly unify the tribes and then advance southward, he might actually be able to swallow up the current devastated northern border whole.

A scout licked his chapped lips: "When that day comes, we won't have to beg the Empire for winter food anymore."

Visa remained silent, but his gaze grew increasingly resolute.

For the tribe, this was a turning point; for these marginalized individuals, it was likely their only path to upward mobility.

They walked and looked around.

The desolate scenery was almost numbing.

Occasionally, one can see a few noble territories that are still in operation, but whether it is soldiers, farmland, facilities or roads, they all seem to be holding on with their last breath, gloomy and dying.

But at the very end of this wasteland, they encountered an unexpected scene.

When the mountain road suddenly opened up and a whole cluster of cities unfolded before them, even the well-traveled Visa couldn't help but tighten the reins.

Red Tide Territory.

The city walls are well-maintained, guard towers stand in rows, and vehicles and horses move about in an orderly manner.

The tower reflected a faint silver light in the sunlight, and neat rows of white smoke rose from the workshops in the distance.

Pedestrians on both sides of the road hurried along, but showed no sign of panic.

Even the patrolling cavalry wore uniform armor, their discipline so strict it was unlike anything one would expect from the North.

“Is this acceptable? In the North, there are places like this?” a young scout murmured in disbelief.

"Frostspear City isn't this good either," another person added quietly.

Visa didn't speak, but stared at the signs, sentry posts, and road layout outside the city, his face gradually darkening.

This is no ordinary defensive line; it is a war machine that has been meticulously designed, continuously expanded, and maintained for many years.

And clearly, it is still operating and even growing stronger.

They looked at each other. No one spoke.

In the devastated North, this stable, intact, and even outrageously prosperous territory stands out starkly.

This is not a refuge for survivors, but more like the beginnings of a new order.

“Let’s set up camp around here,” she finally said, her voice low but without hesitation. “Don’t disturb them for now, let’s get a better look first.”

This was the most prosperous northern territory she had ever seen, and also the most dangerous.

They found a secluded campsite in a canyon outside the Red Tide Territory.

It was a natural rocky ravine, a long and narrow canyon surrounded by rugged rock walls, which could not only block the wind and hide one's position, but also facilitate the deployment of sentries at night.

Visa and his men set up camouflage overnight, kept the smoke from the cooking fires low, and took turns on guard duty to avoid alerting any patrols.

She was extremely cautious; even if a stray falcon flew by, she would stare at its trajectory for a moment.

Because she had a vague feeling that something was very wrong here.

Over the next few days, they took turns going out, constantly infiltrating the outer mountainous areas, approaching the city's defense routes, and even trying to record the daily changing of the guards and the changes in their formations.

“This couldn’t have been built in a few years,” Visa said in a low voice, staring at the outline on the drawing board.

“A few years ago this was wasteland,” an old scout beside her whispered. “I remember that year we sneaked along the southern route and even camped here overnight. There was nothing there then, just swamp grass and withered bones.”

“But now,” the young scout lowered his binoculars, his voice hoarse, “it’s the walls, the streets, the workshops… this place looks like it fell straight from the sky.”

What alarmed them most was not the prosperity, but the discipline.

The Red Tide garrison showed no sign of slackening or negligence.

The sentries never left their posts, patrols changed shifts at designated times, and each squad was coordinated with liaison eagles and light-patterned flags—everything was as precise as a model of the Imperial regular army's central drills.

Even more strangely, they didn't see any obvious signs of "post-war reconstruction".

There were no ruins, no fire marks, no traces of migrant refugees, and almost no injuries caused by the mother nest.

"...Didn't the mother hive rush over here back then?" someone whispered, guessing.

Visa remained silent, pondering the question repeatedly.

How did they manage to do all this in just a few years?

But on the fifth day at dusk, the situation suddenly changed.

(End of this chapter)