Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 337 Attack and Execution

Some of the snow melted in the early morning, revealing a few ruts on the western slope of the post road.

Cohen stood on high ground, squatted down, took out the map from his sleeve, and checked the route one last time.

“According to the pattern, the supply wagons would pass through here. We burned the lead wagon, killed them all, and intercepted the grain.”

Sarik didn't say anything. He and a dozen others stood around, carrying oil barrels and using the roadside firewood to make a makeshift shelter.

Of these people, only a few were among the first to follow Sarik.

There were fewer than five of them at that time. They would meet secretly at night, not daring to light a fire, and just talking in the dark.

Later, more and more people came. Some were approached by Sarik himself, while others came to him on their own after hearing rumors, and he stayed.

Cohen looked at the hardworking people in front of him, but he felt no expectation of completing the task.

This was not a highly successful ambush; even if it succeeded, it would only destroy a few grain wagons.

The Red Tide won't be thrown off balance by this small loss; they have plenty of supplies.

Cohen's goal wasn't actually to destroy anything, but simply to make people feel that something had happened in this place.

It wasn't that the Red Tide was bombed, nor that the barbarians won, but rather that everyone was made aware that "the subjugated barbarians have made their move" and "the Red Tide has begun killing the barbarians."

Once the word gets out, the already dwindling trust will be completely destroyed.

The illusion of barbarian autonomy will shatter as soon as the people in the border villages start to be wary of each other.

That's their real goal.

Cohen tucked the map back into his cloak and took two steps toward Saric.

"I'll lead the way tomorrow. Your men will guard the corner; don't hesitate to light the fire."

Saric looked up at him, but didn't respond. He gripped the longsword at his waist.

Cohen knew he understood, and then turned to look at the barbarians who were diligently preparing; these people truly believed in the glory of the barbarians.

But this was just a lie he fabricated; in reality, the barbarians had already perished the moment Testu launched the war.

Cohen only knew that he had accepted this mission and that he had no choice but to complete it, otherwise he would not be able to return to the Emerald Federation and see his wife and children.

…………

The kerosene was poured evenly, flowing down from the top of the slope at the corner.

“Ready.” Saric gave the fuse one last check.

More than a dozen barbarians nodded, hiding behind the snow, their breathing suppressed to the limit.

Not far away, Chichao's supply caravan slowly entered the post road.

Three grain carts, two leather carts, and a dozen soldiers lined up on either side, their armor plates having an ordinary sheen, like the kind of reserve squad that always accompanied the troops.

But it makes your heart start to race.

Even now, Saric was still unsure if he really wanted to make a move, but in the instant he hesitated, black smoke rose in the distance.

He didn't have time to think, he just heard himself shout the command: "Ignite!"

The flames burst forth in an instant, and the first vehicle was engulfed by the pillar of fire, crashing backward with a deafening roar and swirling snow.

"Charge!" Saric drew his sword and led the charge, their footsteps echoing along the burning oil line.

The team pressed forward swiftly and decisively, as if the plan had truly succeeded.

On the other side, standing on the slope outside the post road, using a cedar tree as cover, Cohen still held the tinderbox in his hand, which he hadn't completely put down.

The sound of kerosene exploding still echoed in my ears, and thick smoke billowed up from the bottom of the slope, blurring my vision.

Cohen saw the first car completely engulfed, followed by a cacophony of shouts.

Those dozen or so barbarian soldiers charged quickly, their sword-drawing stances were ruthless, and their movements were synchronized, unlike a group of hastily assembled ragtag soldiers.

"As expected, these barbarians do have some backbone."

Cohen had assumed these people had been tamed by the Red Tide, but he was surprised to find that when it came to actually fighting, they reacted more swiftly than he had imagined and didn't let him down at the crucial moment.

The scene looked quite impressive; it turned out that the so-called Red Tide Order was nothing more than this.

All it takes is a barrel of kerosene, a few swords, and a few people who can't control their emotions to create a breach in this line.

"These people are too confident; they haven't even set up many sentry posts. They've forgotten that the people they're supporting aren't just obedient subjects of the empire."

This is quite a big commotion. When the people on the Red Tide side hear the news, will they think that the border guard villages here have collectively rebelled?

Cohen breathed a slight sigh of relief, put away the fire signal, and prepared to turn and retreat.

The route has been planned out: a three-mile detour on the snow track, followed by half a night's walk, and we'll be back outside the forest line. As for these barbarians, let them die.

Stupid people deserve to die.

However, Cohen had barely turned around and hadn't even taken his second step when he heard a short command explode from behind the slope.

"Expand."

Cohen immediately turned his head and saw a beam of fighting spirit that was dazzling to the eye.

The blue battle aura sliced ​​through the flames like a sword beam.

Suddenly, the curtains of the seemingly burned grain carts were lifted, and what jumped off were not panicked drivers, but a row of orderly Red Tide Knights.

They were clad in leather armor, but beneath the armor emanated a uniform blue aura, and their footsteps caused the snow to collapse, creating a shallow pit.

"Start gathering them, try to capture them alive," the leader ordered in a low voice.

The knights spread out and moved out at the same time. The short spears in the front row swept out in an arc, directly knocking down several barbarian soldiers who rushed at them onto the snow.

The person in the back bent down and lifted the metal mesh barrier, which slammed into another person, pulling him down so he couldn't even struggle.

Saric stood frozen in place, his hand gripping the old longsword trembling.

For a moment, he thought he could really steal the grain, but now he realized that the cart was full of straw, and the real cargo belonged to the knights.

"Retreat!" Saric had barely uttered the words when a surge of fighting spirit swept him to the side, forcing him to kneel in the snow.

The cold air crept up the wound, and he couldn't feel any pain, but his entire leg had lost all feeling.

He looked up and saw the knights standing in a semi-circle, surrounding him and his companions, blocking every escape route.

The two words popped into Sarik's mind as he watched his companions being pressed into the snow one by one, like prey.

The last spark of hope in his heart was extinguished along with the blue fighting spirit, leaving him utterly despondent.

It turns out they never had a chance.

Not far away, Cohen was also forced to the edge of a snowdrift by the two knights.

One sword tip knocked the short blade out of his hand, while the other rammed his chest with his shoulder, pinning him to the snow and twisting his arm to break his support.

Cohen suddenly realized that they had been watched from beginning to end and had walked into a trap step by step.

"You... you've been..." His voice trembled, and he couldn't finish his sentence.

The knight didn't answer, but simply handcuffed his hands behind his back, making no extra movements, as if he were just hunting.

The cold metal buckle was stuck on his wrist bone, and a sharp chill traveled up the chain. Cohen barely noticed that he was trembling.

He tried to struggle, but found that his strength seemed to have been stripped away.

My mind started to turn back.

From the very first day they entered the area around Bianwei Village, those red tide patrol teams were far too regular in their movements.

Those caravans that seemed to be chatting casually were actually exchanging pleasantries in every sentence.

They initially thought they had evaded the knights' supervision, but now it seems they were simply led here.

A knight tore a piece of cloth from his cloak and gagged him, as if he couldn't be bothered to listen to nonsense.

Louis stood on the slope, looking down at the mess below the post road.

The fire had long since died down, leaving only a faint smell of tar that drifted in the night wind. He looked at the several blackened wooden carts and the dozen or so barbarian surrenderers who were pinned down in the snow, their faces covered in soot. Some of them were still wearing the cloaks he had given them, their heads tilted to one side and draped over their shoulders.

Further out, the three so-called merchants were also dragged out. The coded tokens hidden in their collars, the documents, and the magic explosive bomb were all found without exception.

"I thought it would be some big fish... but it turned out to be just a few small shrimp."

Then he turned to look at the barbarian rebels, whose eyes held anger, fear, and despair.

Before the implementation of the "barbarian autonomous village" system, Louis never expected things to turn out this way.

They confined a group to a village, provided them with food, clothing, firewood, and medicine, arranged for knights to maintain order, and set up patrols and classrooms.

It did save their lives.

During that winter, if it weren't for the Red Tide allocating grain to the granaries and taking these scattered barbarians into the border village, they would have frozen to death on the snowfield and starved to death in the ruins.

But now it seems that simply keeping them alive is not enough.

Systems can suppress the majority, but there will always be someone who tries to break free of their shackles, even if that attempt is futile and brings no benefit.

Louis had asked himself whether those barbarians who submitted had truly accepted the Red Tide Territory's order, or were simply resigned to their fate.

Now he has the answer in his heart.

On the way to Bianwei Village, he had talked about this with Sif.

Sif said, "The barbarians want blood and fire, not mercy."

When she said this, her eyes were anything but gentle, as if reminding him not to be so naive.

Louis responded with a relatively mild statement: "They obey us not out of fear, but because they want to live."

But at this moment he suddenly felt that perhaps he had stayed in the Red Tide for too long and overestimated his charm and the conscience of these barbarians.

Over the past year, he has indeed transformed the barbarians into a seemingly controllable source of soldiers through institutional reforms.

They trained, stood guard, and patrolled in the border villages, and even learned the language, customs, and service system of the Empire and the Red Tide.

Louis believed that by doing so, he could gradually bring them into order over a decade.

Unexpectedly, trouble arose within a year.

He overlooked one problem: systems can suppress action, but they cannot shape people's hearts, at least not in the short term.

Human hearts always sprout and deform in the most unexpected cracks, eventually tearing open the weakest layer.

Louis sighed, his gaze sweeping over the faces kneeling on the ground, and muttered to himself, "I was too naive."

Vesa stood beside Sif, watching the captured barbarian surrenderers on the post road without uttering a word.

Her eyes reflected the group of kneeling figures and the extinguished embers at their feet, and her heart wavered.

Visa lowered his voice and asked, "Lady Sif... our former enemy was indeed the Empire. But the Red Tide is different now. We can feed them, clothe them, and help them survive, so why do they still want to start fires?"

Sif didn't look at her, but just scoffed, "You're just being nosy."

She spoke softly, yet it was as if she had summed up the whole matter.

Visa didn't respond; she understood the statement, but didn't entirely agree.

For a fleeting moment, she almost understood the impulses in those people's hearts.

It wasn't dissatisfaction with life, but a deep-seated obsession—the glory of the barbarians.

She knew she had had those moments too.

But now she no longer wavers.

Vesa stroked the barbarian sword tucked at his waist.

But a gust of wind blew from the side, lifting a corner of her cloak and revealing the Red Tide badge she wore on her chest.

She was no longer a barbarian warrior.

She is Vesa, the embers of the Cold Moon Clan, and also Lady Crimson Tide's shadow guard.

If you had to say which side she belongs to, it would be that she stands by Sif's side.

The girl who once stood with her in the snowstorm is now Lady Red Tide.

That was her reason for choosing to stay.

Regardless of race or revenge, it was simply because she found a home with Sif.

And under Louis's command, Visa got a life he never imagined.

She has her own house, a Red Tide-style knight's dwelling that is truly built of stone bricks, has a snow-proof roof, and geothermal heating.

She has three meals a day, and instead of relying on rations to eat dried meat chunks, she can sit down and eat hot soup and bread.

She was also known as Lady Visa.

Visa thanked Lord Louis.

A young man from an imperial noble family was willing to give her trust, status, and even the responsibility of protecting Sif.

The glory of the barbarians?

That thing had long since broken into pieces in that cell, and she no longer clung to those past symbols and totems.

…………

On the makeshift wooden platform, Sarik's feet were secured with iron rings, and a thick hemp rope was already tied around his neck.

Standing beside him was the village chief, an elderly barbarian elder, whose paper for reading aloud trembled slightly in the wind.

The village chief's voice was hoarse and slow; each sentence he uttered felt like a layer of his own skin being cut off.

"Red Tide Military Household System, Article 3. Anyone who submits to the military household and then rebels will be executed."

He read those few words for almost half a minute.

No one defended Sarik and his group, and no one dared to.

Everyone knows that the real trial has already ended.

Beneath the wooden platform, a dozen or so barbarian prisoners and three spies from the Silver Plate Guild were lined up in a row.

Their wrists were tied behind their backs with thick ropes, their shoulders were forced forward, and the nooses around their necks hung from the beams, making their skin turn white.

They dared not move an inch, as if the slightest tremor would tighten the rope.

Some people's legs were trembling, some had already collapsed, and then the knight pulled them up.

Cohen, the leader of the Silver Disc spies, was muttering something to himself, tears streaming down his face, but no one paid him any attention.

Their eyes were no longer filled with anger, but empty and numb, as if they had finally realized that death was the only thing waiting for them.

The four Crimson Tide Knights raised their long poles and gently pushed them forward, causing the mechanism to fall.

In an instant, his body was suspended in mid-air beneath the rough wooden plank.

No screaming, no struggle.

Only the creaking sound of the taut hemp rope echoed throughout the village square.

Sarik's shadow flickered on the ground for a few seconds before coming to a complete stop.

Among the onlookers, representatives from other border villages, patrol knights, and even some military households not involved in the incident stood motionless on the snow.

There was no anger in the eyes of these barbarians, only an unspeakable sorrow and fear.

Then the bodies of Sarik and the others were cut off by ropes, rolled up in burlap, and transported one by one to the cremation pit outside the village.

But none of those who remained dared to move, because they knew it wasn't over yet; the collective punishment order hadn't been announced.

The laws of the Red Tide are clearly written: under the military household system, if anyone in the village participates in the rebellion, the entire village is responsible for monitoring them. Those who condone it are equally guilty, and those who know about it but fail to report it are even more severely punished.

(End of this chapter)