Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 274 The Strategic Forge of the Red Tide

Last night, the entire wheat valley was immersed in a joyous celebration that truly belonged to the harvesters.

In each village, bonfires were lit in their own threshing grounds or village squares, long tables were set up, chickens and sheep were slaughtered, hot soup was simmering, and countless large pieces of meat and large bowls of wine were exchanged.

The most lively place was the main celebration area in the center of the valley, where more than a dozen of the best villages held a joint banquet, with dozens of pots of dishes being cooked at the same time, their aroma wafting far and wide in the night breeze.

Under the cover of night, the firelight illuminated people's smiling faces as the "Spring Farming Performance Ranking" was read out one by one, and the awards were announced one by one.

"This year's 'King of Farming' comes from Hall Sunn of the Thirteen Villages!"

A deafening cheer erupted as Hall Sunn, his face flushed, stepped onto the stage and tremblingly accepted the land deed bearing the Red Tide Territory Seal.

A permanent, high-quality private field, complete with the right to use a modern iron plow and two draft oxen.

He worked tirelessly from dawn till dusk, becoming the most diligent person in the entire Wheat Wave Territory. And tonight, all his efforts were worthwhile; his fate was thus changed.

"The list of the top ten households is as follows—Loy, Kayla, Besh..."

Behind every name lies a year of hard work by a village community.

The villagers excitedly pushed their relatives and friends onto the stage to receive their awards, and some children tugged at their parents' clothes and shouted, "It's my father!"

Some elderly people received their certificates with trembling hands, only to have them lifted high by young people before they could even return to their seats.

The prizes included grain, cloth, ironware, land deeds, and livestock.

For these farmers whose feet are firmly planted in the soil, this is not just a reward, but also a form of recognition.

After the list of "Top Ten Households" was announced, a group of young people were nominated by representatives from various villages and communities.

Most of them were around twenty years old, their shoulders not yet fully straight, but their eyes were already firm.

When Green called out their names, his tone was particularly solemn: "The above fifteen people have been recommended for their outstanding work and will go to the Red Tide Chief's office later this month to participate in the primary management team training. After completing the training, they will return to their hometowns and be given priority to serve as deputy heads of the commune and brigade, assisting in the overall coordination of agricultural affairs, transportation, logistics and disaster preparedness."

The villagers were in an uproar, followed by a loud round of applause.

This is not just praise, but a gateway to a higher level.

These young people will no longer just be good laborers, but are expected to become the backbone of a village, a community, or even a leader.

In this northern valley that was once home only to slaves and refugees, countless eyes now gaze upon them with envy and hope.

In that noisy corner, the chairman's area was relatively quiet.

Louis, holding a wine glass, nestled into the back of his chair, his cloak glowing a warm red in the firelight.

He listened to the villagers' laughter and chatter while half-closing his eyes to look at the pile of grain.

The firelight occasionally danced on his face, making him look less like a lord and more like a victorious veteran, putting down his weapon and catching his breath by a campfire.

He didn't say anything, but his gaze spoke volumes.

That's not complacency, nor is it relaxation; it's the sense of relief that comes after a long and arduous journey.

He didn't drink much.

Emily glanced at him, smiled and shook her head, took his wine cup, poured herself a small half-cup of warm honey wine, and handed it back.

“You’re always like this,” she whispered, “always thinking about tomorrow when you should be enjoying yourself the most.”

“There’s no way around it. The two counties and thirteen territories in the North are on my shoulders, and I can’t afford to slack off.” Louis accepted the document with a smile.

There was a hint of mischief and self-deprecation in his eyes.

Emily didn't say anything, but simply leaned gently on his shoulder.

…………

On the second day of the celebration, in the warm afternoon sun, Louis boarded the carriage to return to the Red Tide Lord's territory.

As he boarded the vehicle, he gave an order, and the entire convoy set off, this time carrying dozens of carts of grain, unlike when they arrived.

On both sides of the carriage, fully armed Red Tide cavalry stood in formation to escort it.

They were no strangers; this was the third grain transport team.

The success of the first two batches made everyone more composed and skilled, and they had mastered the routes, defenses, and rhythms.

Horse hooves pounded the ground, wheels rolled on the road, dust flew up on the main road, and the rows were orderly.

This massive transport fleet operated strictly according to the "mainline transport plan" previously formulated by Louis:
The main road runs directly from Mai Lang Territory to the granary of Chi Chao City, taking about five to seven days. The road is paved with compacted stone, making it suitable for large vehicles.

There were three transit points and fixed grain protection posts along the way to prevent unexpected events such as bandits and monster attacks.

The convoy was organized in groups of ten, with each group equipped with a squad of escort knights.

The means of transport included oxcarts, mule carts, and newly made cast iron wheeled wagons, with a carrying capacity of between 500 and 800 kilograms, which moved continuously day and night.

To prevent losses, each bag of grain is lined with oiled paper and marked with its processing status: red stripe for "dried", blue stripe for "baked", and yellow stripe for "awaiting sifting".

Daily inspections are scheduled to prevent sprouting, mold, and rodent infestation.

Temporary grain stacks were also set up along the route for temporary storage in case of rain.

Louis had originally considered using the medium-sized river within the territory of Wheatfield to transport grain to the Red Tide by boat, in order to save manpower and vehicles.

However, current shipbuilding technology is not yet mature, and winter comes early in the north and rivers freeze quickly, making it too risky to proceed rashly.

He has personally written to the Duke of Calvin requesting support, hoping to send several shipbuilders north to assist.

In particular, the Calvin family is renowned throughout the empire for shipbuilding. If this project succeeds, it will not only solve the problem of inland waterway transportation but also be a crucial step in building a maritime trade network for the future.

The slanting sunlight illuminated the winding grain convoy, and dust, kicked up by the horses' hooves, drifted away like wisps of smoke behind the column.

Each carriage was loaded with heavy sacks of grain, the sacks tightly sealed, and the cloth strips marking them fluttering in the wind.

The driver held a long whip, staring intently at the road ahead, the wheels rolling over the stone slabs of the main road with a dull thud.

The knight in the front row raised his whip and shouted, "Go straight ahead without delay!"

The sound cut through the valley, and the drivers responded in unison. The procession picked up its pace slightly, winding its way like a long snake to the end of the main road, slowly advancing towards Red Tide Territory.

…………

The night wind grew stronger, and the chill in the depths of the valley deepened.

A group of barbarian scouts quietly approached from the roadside woods.

They were the vanguard of a barbarian tribe in the North, about fifty men, riding short-legged warhorses with tangled fur, their faces smeared with black mud, carrying short bows and axes, and moving as stealthily as a pack of wolves.

They spotted the large grain convoy in the valley, lying in ambush behind the rocks, their eyes gleaming with greed, like hungry wolves staring at a pile of meat.

"What's going on... There are nearly a hundred grain carts alone!"

"Tsk, look at those sacks, they're all dried grain. If you can grab a whole truckload, you'll make a fortune."

“But there are quite a few knights as well…” The leading barbarian chieftain frowned.

He wasn't stupid; he could tell at a glance that this grain-protecting cavalry unit was very well-organized, although its numbers weren't large.

However, each ten chariots were accompanied by a group of elite knights, and if a direct assault was launched, the entire army could easily be wiped out.

But their greed had already set them a burning desire.

That was a real mountain of gold and grain; one cart could save an entire tribe from winter.

“It’s unrealistic to just rush in and grab it.” He licked his chapped lips, his eyes turning cold. “But even if they have a lot of people, there are blind spots at night. We won’t attack the whole team; we’ll just create an opening, grab the loot, and leave.”

His gaze swept across a slope below the mountain road, where the terrain was relatively low and gentle, only two hundred paces from the edge of the convoy, and the sentry posts were spaced a little further apart.

Further ahead, there were a few grain wagons parked a little slower in the rear.

"Get off over there, take advantage of the darkness and their changing of the guard, rush in and swiftly seize two cars."

"After the looting, disperse and retreat into the woods in three groups, without lingering in battle."

He made several hand gestures, indicating that the troops should be divided into three groups: one group to assault the convoy, one group to contain the outer cavalry, and the other group to ambush and provide support in the mountains and forests.

"Just one swift attack, and while they're distracted, cut a small opening and tow the truck away immediately. Fight fast, don't dawdle."

The men below nodded in agreement, gripped their weapons tightly, and looked eager to try.

Some even secretly wrapped hemp rope tightly around the handle of their battle axes, preparing for a desperate gamble.

If the infiltration is successful, this trip will be worthwhile.

Winter is coming, who wouldn't want to stock up on a few bags of grain and a few buckets of wheat flour? They're more valuable than anything else.

Their figures, like ghosts, slowly descended from three sides of the mountain forest, their killing intent brewing in the night wind, silently approaching the Red Tide grain convoy.

The night was their most familiar ally; with their faces smeared with black mud and their bodies wrapped in animal hides, they blended almost into the rock face, and even the wind did not notice their approach.

But suddenly—"BOOM!!!"

A magic-explosive bomb suddenly detonated, illuminating the night sky with a blinding roar that seemed to tear the night apart. The five or six barbarians at the forefront were instantly blown away by the blast, their bodies tumbling through the air before crashing into the rocks, their flesh and blood mingling with the rubble.

The aftershocks of the explosion caused the entire mountain forest to tremble slightly, startled birds scattered, and mournful cries rained down.

"There's a trap!!"

"Retreat—retreat—!"

Before they could even turn around, a second wave of fire suddenly erupted from both sides.

The Red Tide cavalry had already been lying in ambush on the valley wall. Now, using the firelight to illuminate the enemy's shadows, they charged down from the high ground!

They were clad in red and black armor, with red battle aura bursting out along the veins of the armor, like war gods descending to earth.

Spears and swords flashed in the night, leaving streaks of blood, giving the barbarians no chance to catch their breath.

"kill!"

The cavalry surrounded them from three sides, their iron hooves thundering, and their warhorses neighing as they broke through the rear of the second scout formation of the barbarians.

Just as a barbarian warrior drew his battle axe, a spear pierced his chest, sending him flying backward.

“Don’t let a single one live,” Lambert shouted, following Louis’s order.

Louis remained seated in the lead car of the convoy, the vehicle as steady as a rock.

He was looking down at some recent news from the empire, as if this bloody battle was nothing more than the chirping of insects at night, and had nothing to do with him.

In fact, he had it all under control all along.

This morning, the daily intelligence system informed Louis of the barbarian's interception of supplies.

Therefore, the barbarians' fate was sealed even before they encountered the caravan.

The battle lasted less than a quarter of an hour. As the last barbarian scout attempted to climb over the cliff, he was cleaved in two from behind by a Crimson Tide Knight.

The bodies were quickly dragged to a ravine and burned. They were covered with pine resin and scraps of cloth, and burned to ashes as soon as they were lit.

The Red Tide Cavalry quickly regrouped and returned to the escort formation, as if the group had never been separated.

After this brief interlude, the wheels returned to the valley, rolling over the scorched ground, sending up a mixture of dust and ash.

……

On the way back with the grain, Louis changed his itinerary at the last minute.

Before the convoy arrived at Red Tide Territory, he personally led a small group of people on a detour to a place rarely mentioned to outsiders—the Shadow Tomb.

That was a special facility that he personally planned and secretly modified.

Now it has a new name: Shadow Trial Grounds, or more precisely, the core base within the Crimson Tide Territory codenamed "Spiritual Forge".

“Go check on the progress over there,” he said briefly, without elaborating further.

To the uninformed, it was just an abandoned ancient tomb in the north.

But in Louis's heart, it was the furnace from which hundreds of knights would rise to prominence, the forge he would use to forge the true elite of the Red Tide.

The surface camouflage still preserves the original appearance of the ancient tomb, with jagged rocks, weathered stone tablets, and broken slopes, making it look like nothing more than a forgotten old tomb.

Only the concealed beacons and sparsely distributed sentry posts reveal the actual purpose of this place.

As the sound of horses' hooves drew near, a middle-aged man clad in gray-patterned training armor strode quickly to greet them.

With a solemn expression and steady steps, he was none other than Arian, the training commander of the Crimson Tide Knights, who was in charge of this place.

“Lord Louis, you’ve arrived.” Aryan bowed.

"How is the situation?" Louis dismounted and gave a brief reply, his gaze already passing over him to the entrance to the rock crevice hidden in the mist.

"The renovation is progressing smoothly, and the four core areas have taken initial shape. Today is a good day, as the training officers and pharmacists are conducting tests. If you don't mind the simplicity, you are welcome to take a look."

So they ventured deeper into the cave, where they were greeted by a recording station, atomizing equipment, and stone paths leading to different sections.

Phosphorescent moss hangs from the walls, its faint purple light like fireflies in the eternal night, creating an eerie and solemn atmosphere.

The first place we arrived at was the Shadow Moss Cultivation Station.

"We have now been able to stably cultivate three types of moss variants," a young technician in a medical coat reported. "These variants enhance concentration, catalyze the circulation of fighting spirit, and suppress hallucinations. We are currently attempting to synthesize and refine a spray suitable for portable use on the front lines."

“Very good.” Louis’s gaze sharpened. “What range can the purified concentration of the catalytic moss remain stable within?”

"It should be between 1.2 and 1.5. Any higher and it can easily trigger short-term hallucinations and backlash."

“Then we’ll mass-produce it based on 1.3.” He paused, then turned to his adjutant and instructed, “Include it in the war preparation plan and prioritize its inclusion in the Knight Squad training kits. Consider equipping it in batches in the future.”

Continuing deeper, they arrived at the lizard breeding room.

The temperature here is significantly higher. Inside a sealed compartment in the cave, a massive Soul-Eating Lizard lies quietly, its scales shimmering with a faint, eerie purple light.

A mental barrier isolates the mental fluctuations it releases, but the air is still subtly oppressive, making people involuntarily tense.

“This is the most stable batch.” The chief engineer showed a gray-silver device. “This is the ‘psychic shock bomb’ we are testing. It has a built-in magic crystal and can create short-term fear illusions once triggered.”

“Suitable for breaking formations and disrupting the enemy’s morale.” Louis’s gaze turned slightly cold. “Make a note of this. Equip the scout knights with this in the future to break down the enemy’s mental defenses.”

"Yes," the adjutant replied.

But what caught his attention most was still the core of the trial grounds: the altar of will breaking through.

The central rotunda has been meticulously renovated into a secluded retreat. The surrounding stone walls still retain the ancient tomb sacrificial patterns, and the hazy phosphorescent light floats in the air, illuminating the elite knight sitting quietly on the altar.

The opponent closed his eyes and sat cross-legged, his fighting spirit swirling around him like a gushing spring, sometimes condensing into threads, sometimes dispersing like smoke, clearly at a critical moment of breakthrough.

"Which person is this...?" Louis asked in a low voice.

Arian nodded: "Since they were transferred here three weeks ago, seven people have been promoted to elite, and three are breaking through to the transcendent level. The training process is gradually stabilizing, combining fumigation, medicine, and breathing techniques in three stages... It consumes a lot of resources, but the benefits are amazing."

How long is the cycle?

"Normal dietary supplements can restore the body in seven days. If catalytic drugs are used in addition, the cycle can be repeated every three days."

"Can it be expanded to allow several people to cultivate simultaneously?"

"Currently, we can maintain twelve people operating simultaneously, and this can be expanded to twenty once the drug production increases."

Louis remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the young knight who was sitting cross-legged in front of the altar, his body shrouded in battle aura, and who was breaking through to the next level.

The man's fingertips trembled slightly, and a faint light pulsed around him, as if some kind of steel was being repeatedly forged, hammered, and shaped.

"If this level of efficiency is maintained..."

His voice was deep, but it couldn't suppress the surging passion within it: "How many newly recruited elites can I acquire within three months?"

"A conservative estimate is thirty to thirty-five people."

At that moment, the air seemed to stand still.

Louis took a slow breath, staring intently at the figure in front of the trial platform, his mind already racing through the military strength of the entire Northern Territory.

There are many special breakthrough methods in the Empire, which are so stable, so mass-produced, and so controllable.

Within three months, thirty-five elites were recruited.

Thirty-five sharp blades, each imbued with will, discipline, and passion.

And this has only been three months.

Given enough time, he can forge the Red Tide into the sharpest fangs in the North!

“You’re using a factory to forge ordinary knights into elites batch after batch…” Emily stood beside him, her tone gentle, yet she was also shaken by the scene before her.

“That’s why it must be included at the core of the Red Tide strategy.” Louis blurted out almost without thinking, his voice already tinged with excitement. He abruptly turned to his adjutant, his speech quickening.
"Starting today, all relevant medicinal materials will be transferred here, with priority given to supplying the Shadow Moss catalytic pool. Two more senior pharmacists will be transferred to assist in optimizing the equipment. There can be no delay even for a day."

"Yes, my lord."

“Also,” Louis said in a low voice, “bring over that batch of Azure Honey and Frostblood Redberries, mix them with Shadow Catalyst, and see if it produces a faster breakthrough effect.”

The adjutant was taken aback, then immediately accepted the order and left.

The underground was completely silent, except for the faint trembling of the moss in the distance, like the dim light rising from a furnace.

Louis squinted, looking at the calm, unyielding spiritual forge.

At this moment, he is no longer calm; he is the sharpest and most terrifying strategic weapon in his hands.

When disaster strikes, he is no longer anxious. As long as there is this "forge", he can continuously transform ordinary knights into elites and forge elites into extraordinary ones!

"Very good..." he murmured softly, a faint smile finally appearing on his lips.

(End of this chapter)