Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 381 Before the Dragon Throne Meeting Begins
The morning light fell from above, illuminating the pale face of the second prince, Karen.

He sat on a stone chair, his upper body bare, the lines of his shoulders and chest muscles still sharp, yet as if covered by a layer of deathly ashes.

The bandage on the left side has been removed, and the re-stitched wound extends along the broken shoulder line.

His fighting spirit circulated intermittently within his body, like a broken bellows, leaving only a broken echo and unable to muster any power.

The doctor knelt beside him, placing his fingertips on the pulse point, as carefully as if protecting a flickering flame.

“Your Highness,” he tried to keep his voice steady, “the recovery is going very well…at least, much better than we initially feared.”

This words of comfort only made Kalein's brow furrow even more.

For ordinary people, that is indeed good and enough to keep them alive without hindering their work.

But for a knight whose life depends on swords and battle aura, failing to recover to his peak is tantamount to losing half his life.

Kalein did not respond, nor did his expression change, but his eyes were full of coldness.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice hoarse: "...Your Highness, what's the situation now?"

The doctor hesitated for a moment before finally replying, "The Regent has taken the Ochre Leaf Spirit Fruit and is feeling much better. At least he can... at least hold on until tomorrow's meeting."

Kalein nodded heavily, as if he was barely suppressing some deeper emotion.

But there was no relaxation in his eyes, only a shadow that kept spreading.

"Step back," Karen whispered.

The doctor bowed hurriedly and left, closing the door behind him.

The silence behind the door lasted less than three breaths before Karen's breathing changed noticeably.

First it was rapid, then heavy, like suppressed bestiality churning in the chest, about to tear the skin apart in the next moment.

Suddenly, Kalein raised his foot and kicked over the chair next to him.

The wooden chair rolled on the stone floor, crashed into the wall, and the sound of it shattering echoed throughout the room.

Kalein acted as if he hadn't heard, and slammed his fist into the wall with even more force.

He hammered his right fist into the stone wall, sending debris flying, but he didn't stop.

Until a sudden, sharp pain shot through my left shoulder, the muscles around the sutures of my severed arm felt like they had been scraped by a knife, and the intense pain climbed up my neck along my nerves.

Kalein gritted his teeth, a low growl emanating from his throat, like the suppressed roar of a wounded beast.

What he fears most is being seen by others as he is now, powerless and unable to control himself.

But he was alone in the room, so his anger had nowhere to hide.

Karen's gaze shifted to the black wooden box on the table.

Only a few dried, reddish-brown remnants remained inside, which he used to maintain his image as a prince at the peak of his power.

He originally had two Spirit Fruits: one of which he gave to the Regent.

It wasn't out of mercy, but to allow the Regent to hold out until the Dragon Throne Council, to get through these next few years, and to thwart the ambitions of the Rhine civil servants.

He kept the other one for himself, relying on which Karen could barely maintain the illusion of being a half-step peak knight in front of outsiders.

But in reality, he can barely maintain even the initial stage of transcendence now.

The disparity made his chest feel tight, as if his dignity had been forcibly torn apart.

"Damn it..." he muttered under his breath. Then another: "Damn it..."

That day was supposed to be just a relaxing hunting trip, a long-awaited break, with no military affairs department accompanying us and no political implications whatsoever.

Karen even relaxed for once, which is why he became careless.

That day, the royal family's private cavalry gathered at the edge of the forest, their warhorses puffing out white smoke and their iron hooves pounding the ground steadily.

The route was kept extremely secret, known only to a select few within the royal family, and even his closest confidants did not know his current location.

Kalen rode at the very front, his battle aura at the half-step peak, his internal power surging so powerful it could tear the air apart at any moment.

He believed it was only a matter of time before he became a top knight. At that time, he never thought he would be hunted down, at least not during a trip without warning.

The team ventured deep into the dense forest along the planned route.

It wasn't oppressive, nor was it murderous intent; it was just an almost imperceptible anomaly.

Normally, he would have been on guard immediately, but that day he relaxed for a moment. That one moment was all it took for him to react.

A tiny, metallic glint flashed from the grass.

He was an assassin who was weaker than him, but possessed a ruthless determination that made him willing to risk his life on the blade.

The moment Kalein sensed the danger, he began to turn his head, but it was too late.

The blade slashed diagonally down from the shoulder.

Even with such a large movement, it was done silently, as if it were some kind of innate talent, with precise angles, not seeking to break through defenses, but only to take lives.

"call out!"

The sound of metal and bone being cut exploded in his ears, and his left arm, along with his armor, flew off, splattering blood onto his mount's mane.

The pain made his vision go white, and he fell heavily off the horse, his back hitting a tree root.

His battle qi pathways were disrupted, and the residual force surged back, nearly suffocating him.

The assassin stepped forward again. His speed was not fast in his eyes, but it was so ruthless that it seemed like he wanted to sever the entire lifeline. This seemed to be some kind of bloodline talent.

He didn't come to fight; he came to end the objective.

Kalein raised his sword to block, but his right arm trembled uncontrollably from the excruciating pain. Had he been even a fraction of a second later, he would have died from that blow.

The assassin's eyes held no hatred, no anger, only the cold, hard execution of orders.

Just as the second blow was about to land, the royal guards finally reacted.

"Protect His Highness!!"

Three extraordinary knights rushed forward, one of them knocking the assassin away and pinning him against a tree trunk.

The moment the assassin was captured, a strange choking sound came from his throat, as if some kind of pre-prepared activation had taken place.

The next instant! He collapsed as if all his life had been drained away, and died silently.

There was no struggle, no last words, not even a pained expression.

He died so cleanly, like a shadow whose traces have been erased.

Kalein leaned against a tree, blood dripping continuously, his hands trembling so much he could barely hold his sword, but his mind was unusually clear.

An assassin, whose strength was inferior to his, was able to lie in wait on the only road he could take, was able to severely injure him with a single blow, and was able to commit suicide instantly after being captured.

This is no coincidence.

There is only one explanation: someone told the assassin his location in advance.

At that moment, fear transformed into doubt for the first time.

In the days following the assassination, the capital city appeared normal on the surface, but in Karen's eyes, every place exuded an unusual coldness.

It's not that no one investigated.

On the contrary, their own people, the Ministry of Military Affairs, the Censorate, and even spies secretly sent by several noble families investigated for a full half month.

The woodland was traversed, the remnants of battle energy were compared, and every trace of the assassin's last breath was recorded.

But nothing could be found.

They had no origin, no identity, and no organizational affiliation.

Just like an assassin who is born for this one strike and dies for this one strike.

But for Kalen, the inability to find the information was its biggest weakness.

Because there are not many people who can control assassins of this level, and even fewer who can command such assassins to kill him.

The Control Yuan sent people, but they couldn't find any useful leads.

There were people secretly stirring things up within the Military Affairs Department, and the most frequent topic of conversation was:

"His Highness is injured in his Qi meridians, and I'm afraid he won't be able to return to his peak condition."

"The empire needs a capable successor."

“Karen is no longer suitable to inherit the position.”

Every word was like a nail, driven into his chest.

What made Karen even more uneasy was the behavior of the Fourth Prince Rhine's camp: shock, grief, condolences, and proactive avoidance of suspicion—they did it all perfectly.

Too perfect, too much like it's trying to hide something.

Karen sat in his room, looking at his bandaged broken shoulder, feeling a stinging pain creeping up his neck.

All the fragments gradually pieced together in his mind: the itinerary was precisely leaked, the assassins were weak, yet they were trained to the point of being able to kill high-ranking extraordinary knights with a single strike.

Assassins of this caliber are not easy to find, and despite a long investigation, no leads have been found. Furthermore, rumors have surfaced within the Ministry of Military Affairs targeting them, making the Fourth Prince's camp seem overly righteous.

There was no evidence, but he didn't need any.

Karen already knew the answer: it was the fourth prince, Rhine, who did it.

The suspicion tightened around his chest, like a hand gripping his trachea.

He had never been so certain that without control of the military, without power, and without taking the initiative at the future Dragon Throne Conference, he would be able to succeed.

The empire will inevitably fall into the hands of the fourth prince and the civil officials. And that will be the end of the empire.

Doubt felt like a cold needle piercing his chest, but what truly made Karen realize he was being pushed to the edge of the abyss was not the doubt itself, but the cracks that were beginning to appear in the Ministry of Military Affairs.

Karen never imagined that the legion commanders who had fought alongside him on the front lines and escaped death countless times would abandon him.

During a battle to annihilate the enemy on the southwestern border of the empire, torrential rain poured mud and water into his armor, and he led his knights to hold fast to the breach of the Federation mercenaries.

The battle line was on the verge of breaking several times, and he personally carried the wounded flag bearer to the front line to plant the flag back in the mud and stabilize the position.

When the Southern Alliance of Small Nations provoked the border, he led his cavalry on a rapid march through the mud, launching a night raid on the enemy camp and routing the elite army known as the Copper Wall Legion.

That night, his officers witnessed firsthand how he continued to command while dragging his broken blade through a puddle.

In the year that the Eastern Territory clashed with the Golden Feather Flower Theocracy, the Holy Flame Army attempted to infiltrate the borders while the Empire was in turmoil.

He and his officers fought day and night for five days on the banks of the Holy River, pushing the enemy's vanguard back across the river.

These officers all survived those battles. They had all witnessed his peak performance and how he used himself as the last line of defense.

That's why they stood behind Karen; almost 70% of the Imperial Legion was standing behind him.

But now, the legion commanders standing behind him... are less than 30%, and most of them are old legion commanders.

The rest of the people, the new-style generals and aristocratic militia, were gossiping in private, but he understood perfectly well:
"The empire can no longer afford to be dragged down by infighting among the princes."

"His Highness's injuries... I'm afraid he will never be able to lead the army again."

Their tone was gentle, but they were all pushing him in one direction: to leave the position of heir.

The Ministry of Military Affairs is no longer a monolithic entity.

It became loose, fragmented, and scattered before his eyes, like a giant beast that had lost its reins, held down by him alone.

He stared at his severed left shoulder, feeling as if a block of ice had been forcibly stuffed into his chest.

Pain, humiliation, anger... all these emotions were like being twisted into a rope, making it hard for him to breathe.

But none of this compares to the fear hidden deep within my heart.

If I fall, the empire will collapse.

But a long time ago, Karen never thought this way, and he shouldn't have ended up like this.

Kalen was not once keen on power, nor did he regard succession as a mission.

He always believed that his father was as solid as a rock and that the empire had its own order. He only needed to be a prince who could fight, defend, and stand up for the empire on the battlefield.

There was only one person who truly earned his respect and even his heartfelt admiration, and who was qualified to inherit the throne.

It was the third prince.

The younger brother, who rose to fame at a young age and possessed the strength of a peak knight, commanded with composure on the battlefield, and was known throughout the capital as "the person most like an emperor."

He was a man who could maintain morale, understood the people's sentiments, and dared to take responsibility; he was a true successor recognized by both nobles and commoners.

Karen was never jealous of him.

As long as that genius lives, he is willing to forever be the one who stands on the front lines and sheds blood for the empire.

Until the Third Prince was assassinated in an extremely humiliating manner.

That was the first time in his life that he realized that power was not so simple.

What followed was the disappearance of the emperor and the scattering of imperial power.

Karen suddenly realized that responsibilities he thought he would never have to shoulder were being forcibly placed on his shoulders.

Responsibility becomes an obsession, and obsession becomes an irreversible fanaticism.

The more Karen thought about it, the more convinced he became: the Crown Prince was weak and wouldn't live much longer; the Fourth Prince was only good at scheming and had no military spirit; and the others were simply not qualified.

Only I can stabilize the front lines, only I can keep the nobles in check, and only I can bring the military affairs department back to its original purpose.

If he hadn't been in power, the empire would have perished.

The thought burned like fire in his chest, keeping him awake amidst the pain, yet also pushing him deeper and deeper.

Kalein took a deep breath, but it felt like he had inhaled a handful of ice shards, causing his chest to tighten.

He knew exactly what to do next; there was no need to make a list or weigh things over again.

His heart had already led him to the end of the road, leaving only one direction:
At tomorrow's Dragon Throne meeting, we must keep Rhine in check.

He must convince the Ministry of Military Affairs that he is still the "capable prince in battle".

Even if we rely on the Spirit Fruit to hold on, it will be enough as long as we can hold on until the crucial moment.

We must regain absolute command of the Ministry of Military Affairs, otherwise the morale of the army could be divided among other successors at any time.

The regent must hold out for a few more years; if he falls, the fourth prince will be able to take over everything legitimately in the power vacuum.

We must find the person behind the assassin, even if the answer is already in his mind.

Most importantly, I must make everyone believe that only I can save the empire!

This is not ambition, but a decision driven by fear.

This kind of determination is more resolute than any ambition.

…………

As the light streamed through the carved window lattices of the mansion, the fourth prince, Rhine, sat behind his desk, perusing thick volumes.

He breaks down everything into manageable steps and then deals with each one individually.

The room was quiet, with only the soft sound of a quill pen scratching against the paper.

The footsteps outside the door stopped very quietly.

"Your Highness." It was his teacher, Karen, her voice low, as if afraid of disturbing something.

Rhine looked up: "Go in."

Karen entered carrying the secret report box and placed a sealed gold plate on the table: "A confirmed report from the Regent's Palace... The Ochre Leaf Spirit Fruit was personally delivered by the Second Prince's personal guards."

Rhine's pen paused at his fingertips. He glanced at the secret report, then chuckled softly, his tone laced with teasing and amusement: "Brotherly love, truly touching."

Karen nodded slightly, her expression calm. He could tell that there was no warmth in that laugh, only calm calculation and barely concealed sarcasm.

Rhein placed the secret report on the table, leaned back in his chair, and spoke as if it were nothing important: "It's better if the Regent can hold on for another day or two than if he collapses tonight."

Karen pondered for a moment, then said in a deep voice, "Your assessment is that holding on would actually be more advantageous for him?"

Rhine shook his head: "The worst thing about chaos is that it comes too quickly."

He knew very well that if the regent died suddenly tonight, the Ministry of Military Affairs would immediately force him to abdicate.

The Fifth Prince and several local factions immediately took advantage of the chaos to act.

The civil service system will be thrust into the spotlight, and the capital city may very well split apart.

That's not the chaos he wants; he wants controllable chaos.

The brief period of clarity brought on by the Spirit Fruit is just enough to keep the situation stable for a day, without changing the final outcome.

Rhine tapped the table lightly with his knuckles, his voice calm: "The Second Prince sent the Spirit Fruit to stall the Regent's decline. He believes that as long as the imperial power remains stable, he will have more time in the Ministry of Military Affairs to win over the people."

Karen said slowly, "This step... do you think it will become an obstacle or a buffer?"

Rhine smiled slightly instead: "Quite the opposite."

Because the regent will not die in the short term, the emperor will not immediately lose control; but if the regent dies in the long term, the imperial power cannot be stable.

He had more time to gradually win over the nobles and legion commanders, and the second prince was unable to take the opportunity to seize military power.

“A regent who can hold out but is powerless to intervene in politics…this is the best state for us.” He closed his eyes. “Tomorrow is the opportunity.”

The regent appeared capable, but his position was far from secure, and the Ministry of Military Affairs was unable to obtain legitimate authorization at the meeting.

Karen then asked, as if helping Rhine sort out his thoughts: "Judging from the trend, you have the upper hand, but the situation is not yet at a point where victory is assured, is that right?"

Rhein responded calmly: "High, but no more than 50%."

The nobles were watching and waiting, the military ministry wouldn't listen to him, and the local lords were unwilling to make any rash moves. Any unexpected event could turn the situation against him.

Of course, Rhine couldn't gamble on how long the Regent would live; he had to prepare a backup plan.

"Tomorrow, if the meeting fails to reach a conclusion, we win."

Tomorrow, the proposal by the Chief Inspector of the Censorate, Mays, to restore the Electoral system will be a neutral option that is unacceptable to all factions for the time being, but it will also make people realize that they need to choose sides.

Rhine's gaze fell out the window, and his tone became somewhat somber: "A broken empire is never what I wanted."

Karen raised her eyebrows slightly, but did not interrupt, and simply listened quietly.

“But the current situation,” Rhine said slowly, “is impossible to stabilize by force; only time will do… In just two more years, the imperial power will naturally fall into my hands.”

And it will be done peacefully. No bloodshed, no war, no further tearing of the empire apart.

Karen looked at him and nodded slightly.

Rhine spoke calmly, yet with a deep-seated determination.

Slow down the empire, prevent its rapid collapse, and allow all factions to exhaust their potential impulses during this buffer period.

Let imperial power return to his hands in the quietest way possible amidst the chaos.

(End of this chapter)