Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 409 Ending
The last line of defense leading to the main gate of the palace has been torn to shreds by blood and fire.

In the rainy night, the stone steps were slippery, and the bodies of the fallen guards lay scattered everywhere.

Only the last remaining royal guard still tried to form a defensive line to block the blood-stained sword, as the second prince, Karen, was closing in step by step.

Their captain of the personal guard, covered in wounds and with shattered armor, roared, brandishing his giant hammer: "Your Highness! We've lost! Can you spare the Fourth Prince's life?!"

Kalen did not answer.

He merely raised his eyes, his gaze like that of a wild beast crawling out of a pile of corpses, hollow yet carrying a chilling coldness.

The captain of the guard felt a chill in his heart, but he still gritted his teeth and swung his hammer to meet the attack.

He clung to his last shred of hope, roared, and slammed the giant hammer down.

"Ha—!" The hammer fell like thunder.

However, Karen did not dodge.

He directly withstood the fatal blow with his fighting spirit, and in the next instant, the heavy sword drew a merciless arc of light.

"puff--!"

The captain of the guard's head flew into the air and rolled down the stone steps.

Karen kicked the headless corpse aside, his voice hoarse like sandpaper grinding iron: "Where is Rhine? I'm going to skin him alive."

"boom!!"

The massive door to the Imperial Hall was smashed to pieces.

Outside the door, two figures stood side by side in stark contrast.

Duke Raymond rode a tall horse, his armor gleaming, his cloak spotless.

He stepped aside, looking more like an elegant tourist than someone involved in a coup in the capital.

On the other side, Karen was covered in blood, his armor was shattered, and blood was dripping from his hands.

He stepped into the Imperial Hall, treading on fragments of corpses, like a demon returned from hell.

In the vast Imperial Hall, parchment scrolls, official documents bearing gold-lacquered emblems, and incompletely stamped orders such as the "New Charter," "Allocation Order," and "Troop Deployment Order" were scattered all over the floor...

These were the core policies that Rhine had repeatedly deliberated and planned for many years before becoming regent, hoping to reshape the imperial order; they were the starting point for his grand ambitions.

Now it is like a shattered dream, easily crushed by blood and iron hooves.

Several civil officials were so frightened that they wet themselves and huddled under the table, trembling and not daring to make a sound.

Rhine stood alone before the dragon throne.

He was still wearing that pure white regent's robe, but now, amidst the bloodshed, he looked extremely ironic, like a church choir boy who had mistakenly wandered into a slaughterhouse.

Seeing Karen approaching, Rhine did not draw his sword.

He hysterically grabbed the contracts, ledgers, and files from the ground and threw them at Karen's face.

"Don't come any closer!!" he roared. "If I die, you will be traitors! Imperial law will judge you! The civil service will strike! The entire country will be paralyzed!!"

Like a drowning man grasping at the last piece of wood, he used the legal principles and interests he had always believed in to build his final line of defense.

But in the face of blood and fighting spirit, these voices are laughably weak.

Raymond rode forward, the sound of his hooves echoing in the empty Imperial Hall.

He looked down at Rhine as if he were looking at a pathetic clown.

“Your Highness,” Raymond said calmly, “you are still too naive.”

A civil official's words are worthless compared to absolute power.

He bent down and picked up the "Charter of the New Empire" printed with the imperial emblem from the ground.

With a single swing of his sword, he effortlessly cleaved the thick "New Charter" in two.

"As for the law..."

Raymond casually tossed the half-sheepskin aside, letting it fall at Rhine's feet.

"This is just waste paper."

The second prince, Karen, didn't utter another word of nonsense.

He threw away the dulled heavy sword in his hand and, like a wild beast driven to the brink of despair, suddenly rushed up the steps.

At that moment, all he could see were blocks of red and black.

Rhine's perpetually composed face was now contorted in pain.

This contrast gave Karen a violent pleasure that surged deep within his chest.

It turns out that this younger brother, who had driven himself to the brink of despair, was nothing more than a coward in the face of fear.

"boom!"

Rhine's back slammed against the cold stone base of the dragon throne with a dull thud.

Just as he was about to get up, Kalein's iron arm was already gripping his throat.

Rhine scratched wildly with both hands, his fingertips scraping against the arm guards with a harsh rubbing sound, but he couldn't even produce a spark.

His legs kicked wildly in the air, his boots slapping the floor tiles, like a drowning person desperately grasping at the void in his final despair.

As Kalein watched his struggle, a surge of pleasure welled up inside him, and the tension that had been building up for years finally snapped...

The excruciating pain of a severed arm.

The numb look in the eyes of his old subordinates when food supplies ran out at the border.

Those veteran army commanders who were forced to kneel down and beg for mercy by civil servant audits.

Karen didn't need evidence; he already knew: "Rhine wants to kill me."

This was not a sudden murder, but rather a gradual process that began with the military being sidelined, financial support being cut off, and pressure from civilian officials, which led Rhine to his death.

Today, revenge has finally been taken, and tears streamed down Karen's blood-stained face.

Rhine's face had turned a terrifying dark purple, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was still confused.

This is illogical.

Why is money useless? Why did civilization lose to brute force?

"Why?" he uttered the last whisper from his throat.

Click.

The sound of the throat bones shattering was crisp and piercing.

Rhine's eyes lost focus in an instant, and all the blueprints he had hoped to use to rebuild the empire collapsed along with his life in that second.

His body, like an empty shell stripped of its soul, slumped limply before the dragon throne.

The empire's "civilization faction" died at the feet of the dragon throne, a symbol of imperial power.

"Ahhhh!"

Kalen released his grip, his roar echoing across the dome of the Imperial Hall, shaking the souls of the trembling civil officials cowering behind the pillars.

Raymond stood quietly at the bottom of the steps.

He looked at Karen's back, which seemed to be on the verge of collapse, straightened his cuffs, and revealed a very faint smile.

It was a kind of chilling satisfaction.

He was like a craftsman, checking whether the blade he had forged with his own hands was sharp.

Before this, Karen was just a down-on-his-luck prince.

Now, he has publicly killed his own brother, the regent of the empire, cutting off all avenues of retreat.

This means that he can finally be molded into the emperor he desires.

Raymond slowly stepped onto the stairs, his leather boots echoing steadily and rhythmically on the cold stone surface.

He went to Karen's side and gently pressed his trembling shoulders, as if comforting a child having a nightmare: "Well done, Your Majesty."

…………

The once bustling Triumph Avenue, where lights never slept, is now only filled with the sound of the wind whistling through the broken walls and ruins.

Seven days ago, this place was adorned with flowers. To welcome the fourth prince, Rhine, as he became regent, the nobles decorated the avenue to make it resemble the heart of the empire.

Seven days later, rows of gallows were erected on this wide street that symbolized prosperity, the wooden beams creaking in the night rain as if they were a lament for the old order of the empire.

The muddy ground was trampled to a pulp by horses' hooves, mixed with blood, alcohol, and dust, giving off a nauseating smell.

The firelight in the noble district was reflected in the puddles, like tongues of fire twisting and dancing in the night sky.

Duke Simmons was dragged before these gallows. He was no longer the man he had been seven days ago.

His prison uniform was stained with mud, and his thin, withered knees were exposed through the tears. His wig fell off as he was being dragged, revealing his sparse, graying real hair.

His face was wet from the rain, but it couldn't wash away the confusion and fear in his eyes.

The head of one of the eight major families was now like an old fish that had been pulled ashore, only able to gasp for breath.

“I…I am the Elector…I have immunity…immunity…” Simmons murmured repeatedly, as if chanting a protective spell, but with each utterance, his voice grew weaker.

It was as if he himself realized that these titles couldn't save him in the capital.

The executioner stood before him, raised his voice, and announced to the surrounding knights: "Simons Grand, one of the eight great families, a traitor to the old empire, who betrayed his military power and aided the rebellious king, shall be hanged according to military law."

"I...I am a loyal subject! I have always supported the imperial power! I..."

Before he could finish speaking, the sack was put over his head, and his voice was completely swallowed up.

The noose was tightened.

The captain raised his hand and waved it down: "Down!"

As the wooden plank was pulled away, Simmons' body suddenly sank, and a muffled sound like something being torn apart came from his throat.

His legs twitched a few times, causing the gallows to sway gently, like withered branches in the wind.

Soon after, his struggles ceased completely.

The rain continued to fall, but it couldn't wash away the blood on Triumph Boulevard.

The remains of the powerful families of the past swayed in the wind and rain, becoming the first offerings in the new map of the capital.

Besides Simmons, several former high-ranking officials of the empire were tied together.

Karen, Rhine's mentor, devised all his plans to seize power.

President of the Control Yuan, Mays, was the drafter of the New Charter.

Finance Minister Belial's plan was to deprive the Second Prince's knightly order of its provisions.

There were also dozens of civil officials, all of whom had been at the core of that elite circle.

Now their necks are bound by the same noose.

His face was covered in ash, his eyes were empty, and he was pushed and shoved to his knees under the gallows like an animal.

The night wind blew open the cloth bag, and raindrops pattered on their cheeks, but no one made a sound.

The curtain fell faster than expected.

As the noose tightened, the celebratory lights under the plane trees lining Triumph Avenue were no longer visible.

Instead, corpses were hanging from the branches.

A wooden plaque hung around his neck: "A parasite of the Ministry of Finance." "A traitor to the Censorate." "A lackey of the Rhine."

A night breeze blew, and the dozens of corpses swayed gently, the wooden plaques clanging together with a hollow sound.

The civilians watching stood far away, their expressions numb, neither pleading for the deceased nor daring to speak out.

Because they have come to understand that the new master is more brutal than the old one.

…………

Rain was still streaming through the high windows of the Imperial Hall, the water dripping down the glass.

The sound of the rain pounding against the eaves was dull and continuous, as if the entire capital was holding its breath for tonight's storm.

The second prince, Karen, sat on the dragon throne.

He was not wearing any ceremonial imperial robes, no gold embroidery, no ceremonial crown, only a black marshal's uniform with bloodstains still wet on his shoulder armor.

He refused the title of regent and all the titles offered by the civil officials.

Kalein merely raised his chin and uttered two cold words: "Write—Emperor."

The civil officials' knees buckled, and they dared not ask any more questions.

On the steps at the entrance of the hall, there lay the tattered helmet of the 8th Army Corps Commander, the crack stained dark brown with blood.

A guard knelt on the ground and reported in a trembling voice: "Your Highness... the 8th Legion... was completely wiped out, with no survivors."

Kalein remained silent for a moment, his metal prosthetic limb scraping against the armrest of the dragon throne, making a harsh scraping sound.

“They followed the wrong people,” he said softly, “but they are paragons of chivalry.”

He raised his hand and ordered: "A proper burial."

No one in the Imperial Hall dared to refute it.

That was the Rhine's most loyal legion, yet they received better treatment than any defector.

On the other side of the hall, two legion commanders were kneeling on the ground, their faces filled with expectation and humility.

They made a choice during the siege: to defect.

Now they think they've chosen the right side.

"Your Majesty!" the two kowtowed in unison, "We are willing to serve you like dogs and horses! We are willing to sweep away all obstacles for you!"

Kalein looked down at them, his eyes devoid of warmth.

He suddenly chuckled, a laugh that sent chills down the spines of everyone present.

"The 5th Army Corps deserted in the face of battle. The 18th Army Corps was afraid of death."

He raised his hand and gently tapped the armrest: "Implement the decimation law."

The hall fell into a deathly silence.

One out of every ten men was selected and executed on the spot, while the rest were all incorporated into the suicide squad, where they would be the first to charge in the next battle.

The two legion commanders collapsed to the ground, their faces instantly turning as pale as corpses.

Kalein looked down at them: "This is your chance to atone for your sins."

One sentence sent a jolt through the hearts of all speculators.

The lights in the Control Yuan building went out in the rainy night, the iron gate was smashed open, and three hundred volumes of case files were thrown into the furnace.

Kalen no longer needs the Oversight Council; he only needs the military court.

The lock on the vault door broke, causing the door to fall to the ground and the entire cellar to tremble slightly.

The knights carried out chests of gold coins, piling them up on the military wagons.

Civil officials wailed, "That's disaster relief funds! That's the imperial reserve fund! We can't..."

Kalein interrupted indifferently: "Transport them to the military camp and distribute them as rewards."

Amidst the torrential rain, cartloads of gold were transported to the military camp outside the city, where knights cheered and surrounded the gold chests, holding torches.

Then a new imperial edict was thrown from in front of the throne, landing on the cold, damp stone bricks with a crisp sound as it unfolded.

That was the "Military Control Order during Wartime".

The moment the civil officials raised their heads, their faces turned deathly pale.

“These laws are hereby repealed immediately.” Karen’s voice was deep, yet carried an absolute and irresistible force.

One of the civil officials couldn't help but exclaim, "Your Highness... that's the Imperial Code..."

"Your master from last night is dead."

At that moment, no one dared to utter another word.

The entire Imperial Hall seemed to have been slashed open by an invisible knife, revealing the skin of the old era.

The roots of civil service governance were uprooted, and the imperial system painstakingly built by the Rhine turned to ashes that very night.

Kalen sat back on the dragon throne.

He closed his eyes, as if listening to the sound of rain.

After tonight, the Empire will need no more explanations.

No more laws are needed. No more detailed and tedious articles written by civil servants are needed.

He slowly opened his eyes, his voice low and calm: "From this day forward, the empire will be ruled by the army."

No one in the hall dared to utter a sound.

Thunder rolled across the distance, like the first death knell tolling for a new era.

(End of this chapter)