Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 367 Cavill's Retirement Plan

The morning mist from the red tide had not yet dissipated, and the distant mountains were bathed in the white light of early spring.

The test site outside the city was hidden in the valley, where the smell of steam mixed with coal smoke in the wind, carrying the scent of tar.

This is one of the most secretive locations in the Red Tide.

High walls surrounded the area, with strict guards and knights armed with guns standing on either side.

Upon seeing the lord's carriage approach, they all stood at attention and saluted, their expressions solemn.

The carriage stopped in front of the gate of the test site.

Bradley got out of the car first, straightening his coat collar: "Please be careful, sir. This place is still in the testing phase."

Louis simply smiled slightly, lifted the carriage curtain, and stepped out.

In the center of the test site, a huge iron chariot stood silently.

Its furnace mouth was still emitting a faint smoke, and the iron wheels were covered with snowmelt from last night. Sunlight shone on its metal surface, reflecting a dark red luster.

It was a cold, icy beauty, like a strange, steel behemoth with the emblem of the Red Tide etched on its side.

The vehicle body was cast from cold iron and refined copper, and the circular boiler room at the front was taller than two people, with copper pipes winding like blood vessels.

The vehicle body was tightly secured by heavy rivets, with two pairs of iron wheels at the front embedded in temporary rack rails, and the rear section consisting of the cargo hold and operating compartment, appearing bulky and rough.

Hamilton was standing by the car, dressed in overalls, his face covered in coal dust, his eyes filled with tension, and holding crumpled blueprints in his arms, all soaked with sweat.

"Lord Louis!" Upon seeing Louis, he hurriedly stepped forward and bowed, his voice trembling slightly, "Everything is ready."

When the lord arrived in person, the other craftsmen also put down their tools and bowed, their expressions showing both awe and pride.

Louis stepped forward, examined the iron car closely, and nodded, saying, "Well done, Hamilton."

"This...this is all thanks to the blueprints and ideas you provided, sir," the boy stammered, his face flushed despite the soot. "I just followed your ideas and...built it."

“Everyone has inspiration,” Louis said calmly, “but the ability to turn blueprints into reality is unique.”

Hamilton's lips parted slightly, but he couldn't speak; however, his eyes shone like fire.

Louis stepped onto the iron ladder and entered the cabin.

The interior space was surprisingly spacious. Although the furnishings were still rough and there were traces of unpolished metal on the walls, the structure was tight and precise.

Orange-red flames danced in the furnace, steam pipes crisscrossed like a net, and the rhythmic sound of the piston chamber reverberated in the air.

"Thump...thump...thump..." It sounded like an iron heart beating.

The control panel was made of copper and wood, and the pointers of the three pressure gauges trembled slightly.

Next to it are the main control valve and the hand brake lever, the outer casing of which still bears traces of burning.

Louis bent down to observe, and everything was almost completely different from what he had imagined, but he had no doubt about the creative ability of this genius boy.

"Get it running," he whispered.

Bradley's expression changed slightly: "Sir, it might be dangerous for you to get into the car yourself."

Hamilton quickly chimed in, "Yes, Lord Louis, this time... this time I can handle it."

Louis turned around, his tone calm: "Haven't you already tested it?"

"Yes, yes, I've tried twenty-three times already, and the results have been consistent," Hamilton stammered.

“That settles it then.” Louis smiled faintly. “I trust you.”

These words made all the craftsmen present hold their breath; the feeling of being trusted was warmer than the fire in the furnace.

Hamilton quickly regained his composure, took a deep breath, and said, "Add more charcoal, pressurize to the first mark!"

The flames in the furnace suddenly shot up, illuminating everyone's faces with a red glow. The craftsman pulled down the control lever.

"Hiss—!" White mist spewed out from the exhaust vent, and the ground trembled slightly.

"Sir, it might... it might shake a little," Hamilton warned nervously.

Louis settled himself in, gestured for everyone to hold onto the armrests, and said calmly, "It's alright."

Emily gently took Louise's hand; it was her first time doing this, and she was a little nervous.

Will stared wide-eyed at the front of the car, his breathing quickening with excitement.

"start!"

The iron wheel turned slowly with a roar, the teeth meshing and producing a deep metallic sound.

"Thump...thump...thump..." The light from the furnace spread along the vehicle, and the iron car, like a giant beast awakening, began to move slowly forward.

Emily exclaimed in a low voice, "It's really moving..."

Will looked shocked: "No Mara? And no magic?"

Louis smiled and said, "Hamilton, could you explain the principle behind it?"

"The principle, the principle is actually very simple." Hamilton explained, stammering, while nervously adjusting the valve.

"Yes, steam pushes the piston, and then... then drives the flywheel, which transmits power to the axle through gears... and then the transmission rod drives the axle to rotate, so it can move on its own."

He spoke faster and faster, his voice filled with barely concealed excitement and shyness, as if he were reciting a secret from his heart.

Emily and Will looked at each other and nodded, but they clearly didn't understand the technical terms.

Emily muttered to herself, "It sounds...like magic."

Louis nodded nonchalantly, his expression composed: "Yes, I understand."

In fact, he didn't understand at all; what came to mind was the image of that vehicle that used to travel through the city in his previous life.

He had only drawn the general structure from memory, but what truly awakened this iron beast was the shy boy in front of him.

The iron cart moved slowly around the field, its wheels crushing the ice and snow, melting water dripping along its path. Furnace fires and steam mingled, white mist being swept into the air by the wind.

Everyone stared intently at the massive iron shadow, holding their breath.

Bradley stood to the side, his palms sweating. He only breathed a sigh of relief when the train slowly came to a stop three hundred meters away.

What followed was a long-suppressed cheer.

The craftsmen raised their arms high, and cheers resounded throughout the land.

Someone excitedly patted their companion on the shoulder, the firelight dancing on their faces.

Hamilton froze on the spot, his face flushed, his hands gripping the roll of blueprints tightly.

Only when Louis turned around and nodded to him did he hurriedly respond, bowing his head and whispering, "Th-thank you, sir..."

The dust on his face dissolved with sweat, sliding down his neck, and his eyes gleamed with an undisguised light.

Louis got out of the car, his gaze sweeping over the vehicle.

The embers at the furnace opening were still flickering, and hot air was still rising from the exhaust vent.

Louis reached out and stroked the metal casing, saying calmly, "There are still some areas that are not ideal and need further improvement."

"Yes, sir! I understand!"

Louis nodded, then turned to look at him: "The next goal is to put this thing on the tracks. We're not just building transport vehicles, we're building trains. And—war chariots."

Hamilton froze, his lips slightly parted, his heart pounding with emotion.

He instinctively hugged the blueprint in his arms, which had lines drawn by Louis himself.

That was the basis upon which he had relied countless times during these days to research, experiment, fail, and start over.

Hamilton nodded vigorously: "Yes, Lord Louis! Your blueprints... I will definitely bring them to life!"

The red flames in the furnace reflected on their faces, and the steam turned into white mist in the wind, rising into the sky.

For the next two days, Louis remained in Red Tide City, personally overseeing the administration and military plans. He entrusted Bradley with the management of the workshops, the taxes of other territories, and the annual allocation schedule for Red Tide Academy, leaving only a few letters as a secret strategy.

Bradley stood before the desk and bowed, saying, "Everything will be taken care of, sir."

Louis nodded and put on his coat: "Thank you for your hard work. I have to go to Dawn Harbor; the plans for this year can't wait."

He looked back one last time at the city that was glowing with steam.

Then he boarded the carriage and set off south to meet the pirates.

…………

Before the cold wave arrived, a thin mist had already formed on the sea surface.

The moon, like a shattered bronze disc, hangs low over the dark bay near the sea, with a sea of ​​boats silhouetted against the backdrop of black sails that resemble a forest of clouds.

Thirty-seven large black sails silently gathered in formation, the sound of anchoring faint yet rhythmic.

Ten reinforced ships, modified by the Ash Guild, were moored in the inner circle, their wooden hulls creaking with iron hoops, and their side-mounted cannons resembling dormant sharp teeth.

The deck was tinged dark red by the campfire and the smell of alcohol; the flames elongated the shadows, which were then torn apart by the sea breeze.

In the very center, the Wave Eater occupied most of the field of vision.

The ship, nearly twenty meters long, was thicker than the others, and its bow iron plating was inlaid with ancient runes. A huge cannon was secured to the deck with thick ropes.
That cannon is something that can tear a section of the dock apart in an instant.

Next to the cannon were stacked alchemical oil jugs, their mouths sealed with wax, and their bodies covered with explosion-proof talismans and straw mats, arranged neatly and with a sense of ceremony.

Cavill Irontooth stood in front of the Wave Eater's helm.

Half of his face was shrouded in shadow, while the other half, exposed by the firelight, revealed a metal prosthetic jaw, the rivets reflecting the flickering flames.

When he raised his glass, he first handed the rim to a seagull, letting the seagull take a sip, before he began to drink heartily himself.

A banquet was being held on the deck, with drummers keeping time, swordsmiths hammering short blades by the fire, and several sailors shoving each other as they drank their fill and passed out.

Someone poured a whole barrel of strong liquor next to the fire. The liquor ignited, and flames shot into the sky, reflecting the blood-stained smiling faces.

A tall, thin pirate, holding a bottle of liquor, shouted, "Tomorrow morning we'll drink the liquor of Dawn Harbor! And rob their women!"

This sparked a commotion.

Another shirtless man slammed his fist on the table and roared, "Damn the Red Tide! Drink their blood!"

The sailors stuck their daggers into the wooden table, shouted out their bets, and clinked their broken copper cups together.

Someone climbed up the mast and shouted, "The Mad King is leading us to riches!"

The next group echoed this sentiment.

Laughter, curses, and singing mingled with the sea breeze, like a pack of out-of-control wild beasts celebrating the eve of a storm, rough, unrestrained, and reeking of alcohol and blood.

Cavill stood on high ground, letting their clamor sweep across the deck.

Some people shouted his name: "The Mad King!"

He responded by raising his glass, the metal prosthetic jaw reflecting the firelight as if he were smiling.

At this moment, three reconnaissance ships approached the shore in the distance, their lights flashing on and off.

The scout jumped onto the deck and reported to the captain in a tight voice: "The defenses of Dawn Harbor have become weak, and two sections of the outer harbor breakwater are under repair."

The warehouse is filled with gold refining fuel and mineral powder, and the cargo loading operation will be completed within two days.

The escort ships are scattered in three locations; one is under repair on the southern front, and there is a shortage of personnel on duty on the western front. The port's light signal rotation patterns are clear and predictable.

He took out a tide record and a rough harbor map, adding: "The inner harbor channel is about seven and a half feet deep, which can accommodate large ships to intrude."

The port of Dawn Harbor has approximately three hundred cavalrymen stationed there, with the night watch reduced by half. If a surprise attack is launched before dawn the following day, the dikes can be breached first, followed by the severing of the storage area…”

Cavill simply nodded after listening, his eyes bright and his lips slowly curving upwards.

“Very good,” he said, his voice sharp as a knife, “that’s the meat we’re about to eat.”

Then Cavill stood on the deck, towering like a madman, his laughter drowning out the sound of the waves and the drumbeats.

He suddenly raised his glass, spilling the wine onto the deck, where it flashed briefly in the firelight.

His voice was hoarse and fanatical: "Brothers! Those self-important dogs of the Empire are waiting to send us food and oil!"

In a few days, we'll drink their wine, burn their ships, and take their lives! Let's pull off a big heist and make a fortune for the whole year!

A burst of laughter erupted on the deck; someone drew a knife and banged it on the wooden table, while someone else threw wine into the air and roared:

"Long live the Mad King!" "Beat their Red Tide!" "Drink it all tonight, kill them all tomorrow!"

Laughter mingled with the sound of the tide and the beat of drums, like waves crashing against the deck.

Cavill spread his arms wide, seemingly towering above the sea mist amidst the cheers of the beasts, his whole being like a shadow cast by fire and wind.

However, when the banquet guests dispersed, leaving only a ring of scattered firelight and the last remaining guards on the deck, Cavill's smile immediately vanished, replaced by a mask of calm.

He pulled open the hidden door by the helm and went into the cabin, where the lights were dimmer. Maps and sand tables were spread out on the table, and the shadows cast by the candlelight sliced ​​his face into sharp angles.

That crazy demeanor he just displayed was a carefully crafted armor.

Cavill knew that these people who lived by plunder only believed in violence and madness, and if the leader of the pirates showed the slightest hesitation, they would tear him apart like a pack of wolves.

So he used alcohol, laughter, and madness to mask his true rationality, making them believe that he was still the fearless mad king.

Only in this quiet cabin did he shed his outer shell, revealing his calm and calculating nature.

Cavill checked the three reports one by one, imprinting the tides, ports, and goods in his mind.

At that moment, he was already calculating his escape route, not for the fleet, but for himself.

The failure of the last mission almost completely cut off the Ash Guild's funding.

Robbery and empty promises of brotherhood are not enough to support thirty-seven Black Sails.

Sailors need meat to eat, cannons need lead, and oil needs money. Once the granaries are empty, they will bite the captain first.

Cavill stared coldly at the map on the table, his fingers tapping the edge of the sand table.

A hint of ruthless smile played at the corners of his mouth; it was a smile of reckoning.

“If these guys don’t have meat to eat, they’ll eat people. So I’ll have to eat them first.”

Cavill had already decided to make one last move.

Then sell the treasures I've hidden away all these years, buy a small city in the Emerald Federation, and become a local tycoon rolling in money.

As for these brothers? They will be left on the waves, like drifting logs.

Of course, Cavill's plan was not a reckless adventure.

Shuguang Port has only been built for two years. It has many ships but little experience. It is currently loading its first batch of precious gold-refining minerals.

With escort ships being moved around and the defensive line shifts in disarray, it was the most lucrative moment.

He carved letters and numbers beside the sand table, muttering to himself: "Three fake merchant ships lured away the escort ships, while the main force outflanked from the fog and swallowed all the cargo in one gulp."

Then he faked his death, took a few men, and escaped. The rest, let them go.

His fingers tapped lightly on the wooden board, the rhythm cold and hard.

The madness has completely crumbled away, leaving only the calm predator.

No matter how powerful the Red Tide Knights are, the sea is still their world.

The waves will not stop for anyone.

What he didn't know was that the Lord of the Crimson Tide had already seen through his inner schemes through intelligence.

(End of this chapter)