Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 282 Fall
Windfire Valley, this winding and treacherous canyon, lies quietly on the edge of the northern heartland.

The towering cliffs on both sides resemble a gateway between heaven and earth.

Watchtowers stood atop the cliff, stone projectile platforms and magic explosion arrays were already in place, and the Third Legion's battle flag fluttered in the morning breeze.

As dawn broke, the thick fog lingered, and frost still clung to the rock walls. The entire canyon was shrouded in a layer of pale dampness, making it exceptionally quiet…

It was like the stillness before a storm.

Suddenly—BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A heavy, drum-like sound came from afar, deep and muffled, as if some giant object was stomping in the distance, yet it was rhythmic and regular, like a roar from the ground.

This is the sound of the Northern Barbarian army's drums, reverberating through the valleys at dawn. With each beat of the drum, the soldiers' hearts pounded.

Immediately afterwards, the ground began to tremble, and a horde of heavily armored monsters appeared in the fog.

They are enormous, resembling bulls and bears, yet covered in dense plant scales, each scale entwined with red vines.

Some spewed red mist from their mouths, while others had several legs, like fortresses writhing on the ground; as they ran, the earth seemed to groan.

They didn't howl, only the rumble of their hooves pounding the ground, like living battering rams, silently approaching.

Following them, the Northern Barbarian Knights appeared.

They were not riding warhorses, but rather mutated mounts.

The tusked lizard horses, the armored dire wolves, and even the hybrids of plant and beast—each rider exuded rage and strange phenomena.

The knight was clad in rough armor, with floral tiara markings on his shoulders and helmet. His eyes gleamed with fighting spirit, and his body radiated an infectious glow.

They let out a low growl, like a herd of beasts about to roar, and their vanguard thrust forward like arrows.

At the entrance to Windflame Valley, in front of the Imperial defense line, a battle was about to erupt.

General Rudolf was no mere nobleman skilled only in literature; he was the commander of the Imperial Seventh Legion, a high-ranking extraordinary knight, and a general who had participated in the bloody battles of "Molten Ash Hills" and "Tallinn Cross," a general who had risen through the ranks through sheer strength.
He slowly stood up, drank the wine in his glass in one gulp, wiped his mouth, and revealed a slight smile.

His usual contemptuous, sarcastic smile, the one that made everyone look like a country bumpkin.

"Finally here." He hummed softly towards the direction of the drumbeats at the valley entrance in the distance, then turned around, put on his military uniform, straightened his epaulets and cloak, and gave casual instructions as he walked:
"Sound the bugle call, prepare for battle! Push the magic explosion projectors to high positions, sniper platforms in place, tell the vanguard to form ranks!"

He spoke calmly and at a measured pace, as if he were arranging a spring hunt rather than preparing for a bloody battle with no return.

The young adjutant, Serian, looked nervous but also excited: "Should we have the knights prepare to charge?"

Rudolf raised his hand to stop him, casually grabbed his monocle and put it on, looking towards the valley entrance where the morning mist had not yet dissipated, and coldly ordered: "Magic Explosion Array, fire all at once."

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom—!
The six alchemical projectiles were activated simultaneously, and the alchemical oil mixed with the exploding crystals crashed into the horde of beasts with long trails of flame.

Suddenly, scorching and acrid smoke from the explosion filled the air.

The exploding rain of fire turned the front line blood red, and large numbers of strange beasts were blasted away.

They writhed and screamed in the flames, falling like charred charcoal, kicking wildly and tumbling on the scalding ground.

Stones and kerosene poured down the slopes on both sides like a landslide or tsunami.

Heavy rocks smashed down the charging beasts at the front, and the sound of cracking bones echoed throughout the canyon.

"Fire arrows!"

Following the command, the Imperial cavalry quickly formed ranks, drew their bows, and unleashed a rain of arrows like a night wind, precisely reaping the survivors in the chaos.

The knights' aura arrows streaked through the air with blazing light, and the monsters roared as they fell to the ground as piles of corpses.

Several heavy ramming beasts, clad in thick vine armor, struggled to escape, but were engulfed by flames and collapsed with mournful howls.

The frontline soldiers erupted in thunderous cheers, and the bugles on the watchtowers sounded impassioned, as if they could already see the dawn of victory.

Rudolf stood on the command platform, raised his binoculars and looked towards the front line. He saw flames raging at the mouth of the valley, piles of dead beasts, and the advance was temporarily halted.

A mocking smile appeared on his lips: "The northern barbarians are nothing but thick-skinned beasts. Strip them of their fur, and they are nothing."

The messenger behind him bowed and waited. He waved his hand casually: "Go, invite the dance troupe to the central army. Have them play some drums and dance. Victory needs a sense of ceremony."

Then he turned back to his chair, smoothing the wrinkles on his cloak, as if the smoke and death were merely a speck of dust before the banquet.

However, just as Rudolf sat down and before he could even raise his teacup, a deafening roar suddenly came from the direction of the mountain pass in the distance.

Immediately afterwards, several enormous objects streaked across the sky and crashed down like meteors.

Huge objects, such as giant rocks and logs, ripped through the mist with a sharp, whistling sound, crashing heavily onto the canyon defenses.

A tower above the main castle was smashed in half, sending wood and stone flying, and several archers fell with screams.

Another massive, flying log swept across the edge of the catapult platform, knocking down half a set of equipment and setting two oil soldiers, who had not yet had time to move, ablaze along with them.

These projectiles were not accurate enough, nor as powerful as the Empire's regular firearms, but... there were too many of them, like a calamity falling from the sky.

The front lines of the battlefield were thrown into chaos, and the troops were forced to retreat and regroup.

Immediately following was a series of tremors like thunder rolling down the mountaintop, causing the ground to shake.

From the side of the mountain pass, a giant assault team composed of dozens of frost giants, each five to ten meters tall, charged straight in!

Their bodies were wrapped in living vines, their muscles bulged, and their exposed bones were covered in strange patterns formed by the vine armor.

They roared like wild beasts as they ran, their fists like hammers, their stomping the ground like drums, each step causing the rock walls of Windflame Valley to tremble slightly.

Rudolf saw it clearly through his binoculars, but his expression remained unchanged; he simply snorted, "A scary trick."

He waved his hand and said, "Keep holding firm, focus on key targets, prioritize shooting the tall ones."

The magic bombs were launched again, boulders rolled down, and fire rained down.

But the frost giants stepped into the fire almost without fear, the flames licking at the vines on their bodies, but not stopping them.

The rattan armor they wore seemed to have extremely high heat resistance and physical protection, and some giants' rattan armor even regenerated rapidly under flames, coiling and crawling like living things.

The Empire's archers' shots and magic explosions seemed to hit a flowing mountain.

It's effective, but far from enough.

At the same time, the barbarian rear guard surged in like a flood.

The roaring monsters charged forward, and the mutated cavalry, wielding their spears, weaved through the gaps between the giants, wave after wave, seemingly without end.

The battlefield transformed into a tidal wave crashing against a stone embankment.

Rudolf's expression changed slightly, a strange sense of fear flashing through his mind: "These madmen... why did they all come out at once? Why are there so many of these beasts... and they're getting stronger and stronger? Did I... come to the wrong place?"

He gritted his teeth, waved his hand sharply, and roared, "Send the order! Three thousand knights of the Silverwing Legion, attack!"

The horn sounded in response, echoing through the valley like thunder rolling across the silvery mountain walls.

On the east side of the canyon, the heavy gate opened, and a wave of silver-armored warriors surged out.

Three thousand imperial knights stood in formation at the vanguard, their armor gleaming in the sunlight, their battle banners fluttering in the wind.

Battle aura burned on their bodies, like eagles spreading their wings, like the morning light tearing through the fog.

The silver wing emblem gleamed with a cold light, warhorses neighed, iron hooves shook the earth, and three thousand riders stirred up a storm of steel!
"Victory to the Empire!"

With a roar, the knight legion charged out from the flank, cutting into the chaotic front line like a sword flash.

Swords clashed and slashed through the air, crashing into the crimson battlefield.

Red and silver, flowers and blood, fighting spirit and anger, clashed violently in the valley.

The initial momentum of the charge forced the barbarian vanguard to retreat several steps, but what followed was something these knights could never have imagined, no matter how hard they tried.

Hunter is a member of the Silverwing Knights of the Third Legion of the Empire. He has participated in dozens of battles against the Emerald Federation, and his longsword is stained with the blood of his enemies, but he has never seen an enemy like this.

They started off very smoothly.

Wherever the spearhead struck, beast blood splattered, battle aura scorched the vines, and warhorses neighed amidst the flames—everything unfolded as it had in previous victories.

Although the barbarian army was fierce, they were unable to launch a real charge in this narrow valley terrain.

He once thought victory was within reach, until he beheaded a northern barbarian cavalryman.

Blood splattered onto the silver cloak, and before Hunter could even shake the blood off his knife, the corpse that had just fallen in front of him suddenly burst into flames. Not ordinary flames, but a twisted, burning mixture of plant and flesh.

The corpse, like a "spark" of some kind of plant reproduction, released a scorching red mist the moment it fell, which instantly spread and covered the surrounding Northern Barbarian warriors.

The next second, the roars of those barbarian soldiers suddenly rose in volume!

The eyes of those charging Northern Barbarians instantly turned red, their bodies swelled, and patterns like ironwood appeared on the surface of their muscles. Vines grew wildly from the gaps in their armor and wrapped around their limbs, as if they had been given a buff.

They could even tear apart spears with their bare hands and knock away mounted warriors.

"They...absorbed the death energy of their comrades!?"

Not far away, another Northern Barbarian warrior fell, and the violent explosion ignited another cloud of red mist. The three tribesmen nearby roared to the sky, their vine armor suddenly expanding, transforming them into humanoid beasts as they charged forward.

"The more they die, the madder they become!!"

Hunter heard someone scream, but there was no time to think.

Just as his teammate had cut down an enemy, he was suddenly struck by a Northern Barbarian in his "enhanced state" and sent flying several feet, crashing heavily onto the vine-covered ground.

This is hardly a battlefield.

It is an altar, a sacrifice!
It is the blood and bones of the living that are used to awaken a storm of vines and fury.

Moreover, each fallen corpse seemed to have completed some kind of bizarre sowing at the moment of death.

Within the remains, the vine seeds burst open instantly, giving birth to new vines and new flowers.

Crimson light surged like blood mist, and writhing vines danced wildly like snakes, growing madly, binding the warhorse's legs, tearing apart the knight's armor, and seeping into flesh and blood through the cracks.

Every drop of blood is irrigation.

Every dead person is fertilizer.

The entire battlefield was like a living garden, a garden of rage nourished by the blood and flesh of the empire and the northern barbarians, growing wildly, twisting and dancing amidst the smoke of battle.

From the high platform, Rudolf watched all of this unfold.

His silver hair trembled slightly in the wind, and the usual disdain in his eyes was being swallowed by the shadows.

He watched with his own eyes as the Silverwing Knights Legion, those three thousand elite troops who once struck fear into the hearts of the enemy, were now seemingly caught in a bloody web that was tightening with each battle.

Every charge they made was like feeding the enemy a boost.

Every inch of their advance was met with an even more frenzied counterattack.

“Impossible.” Rudolf gritted his teeth, gripping the railing tightly, as if speaking to himself, “They’re just barbarians… just savages…”

But this is not a barbarian tribe; this is a war group infected by some uncontrollable force, a monstrous legion that feeds on death.

He had initially thought it would be an easy defensive battle.

He would achieve brilliant military exploits in this peaceful border region, then be transferred back to the south, retire as a true aristocrat of the capital, and live an elegant life.

But now he stands at the edge of this valley, watching an imperial battle line that is spiraling out of control, collapsing, and decaying, like a fool watching his knights being swallowed by flowers.

He flung his cloak aside, turned around, and shouted, "Bring all the knights over to block them! If we can hold out for a few days, reinforcements will arrive!"

Lieutenant Serian hesitated for a moment, but ultimately accepted the order and left.

Rudolf, meanwhile, strode up to the main castle command platform and stared intently at the burning battle line.

The Imperial Army only held out for two days.

For two days and two nights, arrows were fired in full force, and the magic bombs were exhausted. The catapult platform was completely destroyed in the repeated launches.

The knights charged wave after wave, one group falling, another taking their place.

But even the enemy's main force never appeared.

Throughout this war, they were only facing the vanguard.

Even so, the Third Reich army continued to suffer defeats.

The Northern Barbarian vanguard grew increasingly frenzied with each battle, their spirits fueled by the deaths they suffered. The blood of their own people, and the blood of the Empire's citizens, became the fuel for their insane fervor.

They seemed utterly unafraid of death. Each corpse was like an offering, fueling their frenzied fighting.

This is a sacrifice, madness, and purgatory.

Even the most well-trained and resolute knights of the Empire are still human.

They would be exhausted, they would be terrified, and they would watch helplessly as their comrades died and were swallowed up by the flower vines.

At some point, one may be overwhelmed by a psychological breakdown.

Finally, before dawn on the third day, the defense line was breached.

A huge shadow rose from behind the mountain, and several giant trees came hurtling towards them.

"Block it—!!"

Before anyone could finish shouting, the main gate of the castle shattered with a deafening roar, sending dust billowing like mist.

Vines surged in from the gaps like a tide, and the frost giant swung his massive hammer, smashing down the arrow tower.

The barbarian knights followed closely behind, their warhorses entering the camp.

The first stronghold in the North has fallen!

Meanwhile, Rudolf had already quietly retreated. Dressed in his battle robes, he led his remaining personal guard in a hasty retreat through the southern mountain passes.

He once shouted, "If we can hold out for a few days, reinforcements will arrive," but he abandoned his knights and chose to flee.

Amidst the billowing smoke, some followed him, some roared as they chased his disappearing figure, while others didn't even have time to curse before being entangled in the earth by the furious vines that burst forth from the ground.

Far away, on a rocky outcrop, a flower-like thing quietly bloomed.

It is not a flower, yet it possesses a more enchanting allure than any flower.

The fleshy petals, entwined like blood vessels, slowly opened, releasing a wisp of white light that enveloped the entire area.

A brief silence descended.

Countless people stopped what they were doing and stared wide-eyed in the direction of the flower.

They trembled, their eyes filled with terror, as if they had seen something indescribable.

But this fear did not turn into collapse; instead, it gradually... ignited.

At first, the soldiers instinctively shouted and roared, trying to dispel their inner fear.

But soon their breathing became rapid, their eyes began to turn red, their bodies became hot, their blood seemed to be ignited by something, and anger surged from the deepest part of their souls!

"We are the ones who have been abandoned."

"The empire has abandoned us like dirt, but these monsters... give me strength!"

"If this is the will of the flower... I am willing to fight for it!"

Beneath the breath of the blooming flowers, some of the Imperial soldiers who had been lying in wait for death suddenly struggled to their feet, wearing charred armor and dragging bloodstained swords. To everyone's astonishment, they turned around and swung their blades at their former comrades.

"They're insane! They're insane!"

"Stop! We are knights of the Empire!"

"His eyes were lifeless... no, something had taken them away!"

But it was too late.

These fallen ones had ferocious faces and were filled with rage. They no longer shouted slogans or proclaimed the glory of the empire.

They didn't shout anything, they just went on a killing spree on the battlefield.

It was as if they wanted to transform all the past shame, fear, and pain into blood on the blade.

Vines and blood began to entwine them, and they tore off the imperial clothes, sewing new garments from animal hides, and joined the legion entwined with blood and furious vines.

(End of this chapter)