Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 361 Crimson Fireworks (Part 1)
On the eve of the meeting, Frost Dragon Territory was brightly lit, and the snowfield was warmed by candlelight and flames.

Asta's estate was decorated in a magnificent manner, with gold-threaded brocade hanging on the walls and ruby ​​chandeliers gleaming coldly.

The northern nobles stood in the hall, wine glasses in hand, praising each other's fiefdoms and bloodlines, the air thick with spices and insincere laughter.

All of this was in preparation for Louis's Red Tide fireworks display.

It was a small suggestion Louis made at the banquet the day before yesterday: "Red Tide fireworks are a new technique that might add some color to the nights in the North. You can come to the banquet to see it."

These northern nobles, with the exception of a few from the southeastern red tide system, had never seen anything called "fireworks".

This was just a casual remark at the time, but the nobles were all invigorated. After all, who wouldn't want to try something new?
"Fireworks? What are those?"

"I've heard it's a rare artifact from the Red Tide Territory that can set the night sky ablaze!"

Thus, the Red Tide Fireworks Festival became the focus of the evening.

"Oh!"

When the first firework burst in the night sky, all the nobles held their breath.

The intertwined purple and gold flames bloomed like flowers in the sky, illuminating the entire Frost Dragon Territory.

The explosions echoed through the valley, and the nobles gasped in astonishment.

"My God...that's fire? And it can even bloom?"

"These colors... gold, purple, and blue! How did you do that?"

"Is this the technology of Red Tide? How impressive it would be to buy a few and display them at my own banquet!"

The exclamations kept coming and going.

Each time the fireworks went off, they drew gasps of admiration and applause.

The music at the banquet grew increasingly lively.

Servants carried silver platters through the room, the aroma of spiced wine filled the air, and golden candlelight flickered in every crystal glass.

The nobles laughed loudly and drank recklessly, as if no storm would come tomorrow.

Except for two people.

Asta Auguste sat in the main seat with a standard smile on his face, but his knuckles were already clenched into his palms.

In the reflection of the lights, he saw smiling faces full of flattery.

He watched as the nobles surrounded Louis one after another, smiling obsequiously and flattering him to the point of obsession.

"Lord Louis, the North should truly thank you!"

"Your territory is truly a miracle of our time."

These words should have belonged to him.

He is the sixth prince, of the bloodline of the empire, and the leader of this reconstruction conference.

But now, no one is looking at him.

Louis simply sat there, smiling, nodding, raising his glass, saying very little.

Yet the space around him seemed to be pulled by an invisible gravitational force, with all the light and gazes involuntarily directed towards him.

Asta's smile began to freeze, and only one sentence echoed in his mind: "It's okay. After tomorrow's meeting, everything will be back to normal."

He reassured himself again and again that after tomorrow's meeting, Red Tide would be stripped of power, and Louis would fall from his high position.

Then everyone will look at him again.

He needed victory, he needed Louis to fall from power, so that he could prove he wasn't a joke of the Empire.

On the other side, Uru stood in the crowd, wearing a long robe and with his head down.

He attended the banquet as Asta's aide, standing in a corner with a docile smile on his face, but he couldn't suppress the anxiety churning in his chest.

At this very moment, beneath the secret passage of the North Gate, the barbarian warriors were already fully prepared for battle.

Tonight, they will break down the doors and massacre the banquet hall of Frost Dragon Territory.

If they succeed, the barbarians can gain the empire's recognition and winter provisions; if they fail, they will be wiped out.

He held the wine glass, his fingers trembling.

He quietly turned his head to look out the window. Fireworks were blooming in the distance, but all he could see was the deathly light beneath the flames.

What troubled him even more was that his wife and daughter had been secretly sent out of the city last night, his last selfish wish.

"If we succeed, we'll bring them back. If we fail... we'll make sure they never come back." He repeated this to himself over and over again.

Just as he was lost in thought, a gentle breeze brushed past his ear, and a young voice whispered in his ear:

"Just say that Asta ordered you to do this. Lord Louis will guarantee the safety of your wife and daughters."

Uru's blood froze for a moment, and he turned around abruptly.

The banquet hall was still bustling with activity, servants bowed as they served dishes, and nobles laughed heartily, but not a single person looked at him.

Everything was as usual, bright, noisy, and innocent.

But that voice was truly etched into his mind.

His hands were trembling, his breathing was rapid, and that short sentence contained so much information that it almost broke him.

The barbarians' plan...has been exposed?

Did Louis know?
Even... his wife and daughters were captured by that man?

"How could this be... how could this happen..." he murmured, beads of sweat sliding down his cheeks.

He wanted to escape, but he couldn't even lift his feet.

At that moment, he finally understood—

Whether it was the barbarians, the sixth prince, or himself, they were all caught in the same vortex.

This is a vortex woven by the very hands of that Crimson Tide Lord.

He looked up and saw Louis gently raising his glass with a faint smile on his lips.

That smile held no malice, yet it was colder than the biting wind.

Flames shot into the sky, nearly shattering Uru's eardrums; the sound was like thunder, exploding in his mind.

The air itself seemed to tremble, and he could only instinctively raise his hand to cover his ears.

At that moment, his vision blurred, his heart pounded erratically, and only a deafening roar filled the world, as if the entire night sky had been overturned.

"--boom!"

The deafening explosions echoed across Frost Dragon Territory, silencing all the laughter and conversation in the manor.

The nobles had to huddle together to talk, their words whispered in each other's ears, their laughter, the sound of drinking, and music all blending together.

The musician's harp music played intermittently, servants carried wine trays as they moved about, and the crisp sound of silver cups clinking echoed in the firelight.

Fireworks burst forth in the sky, illuminating every face that looked up.

…………

Just as the third round of fireworks went off, the north gate of Frost Dragon Territory quietly opened.

The wind and snow swirled in through the cracks in the door, carrying a deathly chill.

From the shadows, over a hundred barbarian warriors slowly emerged.

They were draped in wolf skins, their bodies bound with metal fragments and bone ornaments, their iron axes gleaming in the snow.

Just before they appeared, a group of soldiers clad in Frostdragon Knights' armor appeared in front of the secret passage. These were Uru's secret agents, who were also of barbarian origin.

Their eyes flickered, and they remained silent, only pointing forward with slightly trembling fingers, indicating to the barbarians to proceed along the agreed route.

One of the accomplices whispered, "Turn left, then up one corner... go under the garden ditch."

The other person couldn't help but swallow hard: "Remember, you only have a little over ten minutes."

Kalk nodded and snorted coldly, "Enough."

The team members exchanged glances, their eyes filled with both fear and greed, before quickly retreating into the shadows.

After a brief hesitation, the barbarian raiding party followed the direction they were pointed out, passing through the frozen stone gate and entering the inner corridor of Frost Dragon Territory.

The same fire burned in everyone's eyes, a fire mixed with hatred, excitement, and a desire for death.

These are the last remaining elite of the barbarian tribes, the Bloodthirsty Warriors.

Their blood can burn in extreme cold, and their anger is enough to turn into a snowstorm.

The two guards at the north gate had just looked up when their throats were slashed open by a sharp blade.

As blood splattered, several Bloodthirsty Warriors swiftly pounced on the second row of guards, the short metallic clanging sound swallowed by the flames in the night wind.

A knight, before he could even draw his sword, was struck in the helmet by an iron axe, his brains splattering everywhere. Another soldier had barely uttered a warning when he was cleaved down by a slanted axe, his body slamming against his armor with a dull thud. Even the screams of agony were completely drowned out by the explosions of fireworks overhead.

Blood bloomed into two dark red flowers on the snow, and breath was swallowed by the cold wind.

The body was quickly dragged into the shadows, and the footsteps were perfectly audible.

Kark walked in front.

He was young, his stubble stiffened by the cold wind, but his eyes shone like a wild beast, and a smile played on his lips.

“Tonight,” he said in a low voice, as if making a vow to himself and to his entire people, “we will make the Empire remember our name.”

The soldiers pounded their chests with their fists, producing a deep, rhythmic sound.

The passage was narrow, with damp, cold moisture clinging to the stone walls, and the air was filled with the smell of blood and iron.

The torchlight flickered on their faces, casting long, menacing shadows.

The group advanced, their iron boots thumping against the rocky ground.

With each step, it seemed as if I could hear my heart pounding in my chest.

The stone door in front was pushed open, and a colder gust of wind rushed in.

They had arrived at the underground wine cellar on the outskirts of Frost Dragon Territory.

Through the cracks in the stone, you can see the light shining down from above.

There was music, fragrance, and fireworks exploding in the sky.

"Die, all of you..." Kalk grinned, his voice low as a roar.

The soldiers behind him bowed their heads in unison and began to pray for their impending deaths.

“The snow of the North will remember us.” After he finished speaking, he gripped his battle axe tightly and pushed open the stone door.

A cold wind swept in, and the flames followed, shooting into the night sky.

The first dozen or so soldiers who rushed out were like beasts crawling out of hell.

They charged into the garden, burning with the scent of blood, and cleaved through the first knight who came at them.

The sound of steel clashing was drowned out by the roar of fireworks, and no one noticed.

The flames danced on their armor, and the axe blades gleamed with an eerie red light.

The musicians in the distance were still playing, and the laughter had not stopped.

But not far from the manor, blood had already been spilled on the snow, becoming new fireworks.

Kark raised his battle axe, his gaze fixed on the manor.

His laughter echoed in the night wind as he shouted maniacally, "Charge into the main hall! Let them see the flames of the barbarians!"

The bugle sounded, deep and wild.

The remaining hundreds of barbarian warriors surged out of the secret passage like a flood, heading towards the manor.

Their roars mingled with the sounds of fireworks exploding.

The firelight in the sky reflected the blood on the ground.

Tonight, Frost Dragon Territory burns amidst fireworks and carnage.

When the first alarm rang, Asta was still talking with the nobles, assuming it was a servant's negligence or a false alarm from the guards on patrol.

But then the wind swept in from outside the manor, carrying the smell of blood and tar. Just as he was about to frown, the second alarm rang out, followed by a third that suddenly exploded out, its sound as rapid as a war drum.

Before he could react, he heard the chaotic sound of horses' hooves and shouts of battle coming from afar, mixed with the crackling sound of burning grease.

At the end of the street, running figures and fluttering flags could be vaguely seen. The barbarians were advancing towards the manor by setting fires, and flames climbed up the eaves, illuminating half of the night sky.

Asta's smile froze completely.

"It's...an attack! Barbarians! The barbarians have invaded!"

The guard burst through the door, his body covered in blood, and rushed into the hall.

Flames spread across the street outside the window, shouts of battle drew near, and the air was thick with the smells of burning, cooking oil, and rust.

In the distance, the sound of collapsing roof tiles could be heard, and flames illuminated the street corner; it was the barbarians setting fire to oil and creating chaos.

Asta turned pale and slumped into the main seat.

The wine in the glass spilled on his boots, like a pool of blood.

The nobles rose in panic, chairs overturned, silver platters fell to the ground, and the sounds of impact and screams created chaos.

Some shouted that they wanted to escape, and others rushed towards the door, but were stopped by the guards' long guns.

"Calm down!" Cypher shouted, drawing his sword and standing there, his battle aura gleaming with golden light.

The light drew an arc in the hall, forcefully suppressing the atmosphere of panic.

The manor was poorly guarded at the moment. Each nobleman brought only one personal guard with him, totaling no more than thirty people. The real defense line consisted of only a hundred knights under Asta's command.

They hastily assembled in the outer courtyard, their fighting spirits shimmering in the night, displaying golden, silver, and a few faint blue glows, intertwining like burning starlight.

Fireworks continued to bloom in the sky, drowning out the screams and the clanging of steel on the ground.

Meanwhile, the barbarian roars were approaching from the North Garden.

It was a deep, piercing roar, accompanied by a deafening shockwave.

Leading the charge was Kalk's raiding party.

Each barbarian warrior's battle aura was a deep blue, like a frozen night, but in a fit of rage it transformed into a blazing torrent of flames.

They smashed down the stone gate of the garden and rushed into the outer corridor of the manor.

Two Frost Dragon Knights charged forward, but were engulfed by the blue light as soon as they raised their swords. The axe blades tore through the air, and with a muffled thud, two heads flew off.

Fireworks burst forth in the sky at that very moment, sparks falling like golden rain, reflecting the interplay of blood and flames.

"Stop them!" Cypher roared, brandishing his sword to meet the enemy.

Several golden-clad imperial knights rushed forward, their battle auras clashing violently.

The light of gold and blue intertwined, and the shockwave overturned tables and chairs, splattering wood and blood at the same time.

The explosions overhead repeatedly drowned out the screams, like a contrast between two grand feasts, one in the sky and one on earth.

Above is a celebration of nobility, below is a carnival of death.

After a brief exchange, the barbarians advanced again.

The deep blue light flowed like a surging tide, turning everything in its path into a sea of ​​blood.

Even the screams were completely drowned out by the explosions of fireworks, turning into a silent rout.

Camille's face turned pale, and the wine glass in his hand fell to the ground, splashing wine everywhere, spreading like blood.

He hid in a corner, looking around, and saw only nobles fleeing and servants lying in pools of blood...

Asta sat motionless in the main seat, his lips devoid of color, his mind a jumble of questions:

Why? How did barbarians get here? How did they get in? Who leaked the city gates?

His heart was pounding wildly, and his thoughts were scattered into a blank.

“This…it’s impossible…this is my manor…my northern border…” he murmured, his eyes filled with fear and disbelief.

But the intermittent roars reminded him that he had woken up from his dream.

Kark was already caught up in the killing, his axe blade stained with blood and fire, his laughter echoing between the flames and screams.

Each slash was accompanied by sparks and blood mist, as if dancing in a burning hell.

Fireworks illuminated his blood-covered face.

As he turned, he casually cleaved the fleeing knight in two with a single axe stroke. Hot blood splattered on his face, but he instead displayed an almost intoxicated expression.

Suddenly, his gaze was drawn to a figure at the far end of the crowd.

The man remained standing, his face calm, seemingly oblivious to the chaos around him.

His black hair shone with a cold hue in the firelight; he was tall and slender, with a composed demeanor.

Kalk narrowed his eyes, a chill creeping up his spine. He recognized him instantly; it was the man Uru had shown him in a portrait.

He recognized him at a glance; Uru had shown him a portrait of him.

"That guy! It's him! The Lord of the Crimson Tide!" Kalk roared, his voice like thunder, particularly jarring amidst the chaos.

He waved his hand, signaling four barbarian warriors with extraordinary fighting spirit to rush towards Louis.

The deep blue battle aura emanating from the four individuals was almost tangible, shattering the stone slabs beneath their feet. The shockwaves from their charge ignited flames and surged along the corridor.

(End of this chapter)