Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 417 Opening Fire on Refugees?
Inside the tower, a fireplace crackled and burned, its warmth spreading slowly through the stone walls. The cold wind was kept out by the heavy window frames, leaving only the muffled sound of raindrops hitting the glass.

Kyle Raymond, draped in a heavy fur cloak, stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.

He held a glass of red wine in his hand; the wine was a deep color, and in the firelight, it looked like a layer of slowly flowing blood.

He held the high-powered binoculars to his eyes, his gaze passing through the rain curtain and landing on the Black Rock Canyon a few kilometers away.

It was a hellish sight.

The entrance to the canyon was completely blocked, with tens of thousands of refugees crammed into the narrow passage, their bodies pressed together, slowly wriggling in the muddy water.

The torrential rain washed away the filth, and the occasional cries and screams were torn apart by the wind and rain, leaving only a low and continuous white noise when they reached this place.

Kyle's lips curled up slightly.

In his eyes, it was not chaos, but a highly accomplished work.

The telescope's field of view is pushed outwards further.

Outside Black Rock Canyon, Louis's torrent of steel indeed came to a halt.

Steam-powered war chariots lined up at the valley entrance, their heavy steel outlines appearing and disappearing in the rain, like a group of ferocious beasts forced to stop.

They remained motionless before the barrier made of flesh and blood.

Kyle put down his binoculars and gently swirled his wine glass: "Look, what a perfect defense."

There was a hint of satisfaction in his tone.

"Not a single brick or stone was needed; a bunch of good-for-nothings who only knew how to eat blocked the sharpest fangs of the North."

A knight stepped forward and handed Kyle a hot towel.

“Young Master…” He paused, his tone still respectful, but he deliberately lowered his voice, “Louis was indeed blocked. But… those were tens of thousands of civilians after all.”

The words were spoken so softly that they were almost drowned out by the crackling of the fireplace.

Kyle glanced at him sideways.

The knight immediately changed his tune, his words becoming smoother: "Of course, this is precisely the way to subdue the enemy without fighting."

If he runs over them, his reputation will be ruined. If he stops, tens of thousands of mouths will eventually drag him down, not to mention our main force is on its way back to reinforce them.”

Kyle didn't respond, he just gave a soft hum.

Everyone in the tower smiled, but some people's smiles seemed unnatural, more like deliberate attempts to please and to gauge the attitudes of those around them.

The knights exchanged glances. One of them opened his mouth, but ultimately swallowed his words, as this was not the place to ask questions.

There was an invisible and subtle tension in the air.

Kyle seemed to sense it too, but he didn't care.

He stepped to the map, pointed to the location of Blackrock Canyon, and his expression became serious again.

“Based on my analysis of Louis, given his style, he would definitely try to save people.” Kyle raised his head, his gaze calm and resolute.

“Once he starts handing out food, his march will be slowed down tenfold. Winter will do the rest for us, and tens of thousands of Northern troops will either slink back or be trapped here to die.”

Of course, there is another possibility: Louis might tear off his hypocritical mask and run over the civilians directly.

Kyle had another backup plan, but he suspected there was a mole in his decision-making circle, so only a few people knew about it, and he himself could not reveal it.

The rain outside the window was getting heavier and heavier.

In the distance, a few scattered lights appeared on Louis's position, appearing blurry in the night.

Kyle assumed it was just the light from the campfire and paid it no mind.

He turned around and raised his glass high: "Gentlemen, to this damned downpour, to these useful refugees, and to the path we fought our way out of this desperate situation!"

"I admire the young master's wisdom!"

"Gray Rock Fortress is impregnable!"

A response rang out from the tower as crystal glasses clinked together, producing a crisp sound.

Kyle had just raised his glass of red wine, and the words of celebration were still stuck in his throat.

A few kilometers away, a short but blinding flash of light suddenly appeared on the Red Tide position.

Those were the flames from a heavy cannon firing.

The next instant, a deep and resonant roar rolled in through the rain.

It was as if some enormous thing had been shoved hard in the distance, the air was compressed and then suddenly bounced back.

"Boom——!"

The sound rolled along the ground, collided repeatedly between the mountains, and finally hit the tower wall a beat too late.

The window frame trembled slightly, and the wine rippled in the glass.

Kyle's body tensed abruptly; he almost crashed into the window and grabbed the binoculars.

The torrential rain pounded against the tower's exterior walls, the raindrops bursting against the glass and sliding down the windows in patches, cutting the view into countless swaying, distorted fragments.

He couldn't see anything clearly, only a blurry flickering light in the depths of the rain, but he couldn't tell where the light had landed.

But this did not prevent him from making a judgment; in Kyle's view, there was only one answer.

"He opened fire?" His voice cracked with barely suppressed emotion. "Firing at the refugees?!"

Then, there was another sound.

"Boom——!"

Closer and more real than before.

This time, the people inside the tower clearly felt the stone slabs beneath their feet tremble slightly.

“Madman…” Kyle’s breathing became rapid, but his tone unconsciously rose.

"He actually chose to blow up tens of thousands of civilians to clear a path?!"

If I were in that situation, I would definitely open fire on the refugees.

Once you run over someone and someone dies, the road will clear itself.

Therefore, he naturally assumed that Louis Calvin would do the same.

But... Kyle's mind raced.

Protect your reputation, win people's hearts, and refrain from initiating bloodshed lightly.

Was it all fake? But just as anger and astonishment surged, an almost dizzying excitement welled up from the bottom of his heart.

Louis's reputation would be ruined if the first shell landed in the crowd.

The benevolent Count of Red Tide?
Hmph, it's just a thin layer of skin.

Moreover, he had no way to enter the canyon and no way to retreat, and he was still holding the last switch.

Kyle put down his binoculars, a smile playing on his lips—a smile that confirmed his suspicions.

“Just watch.” He pointed out the window, his voice echoing through the tower. “This is the true face of that hypocrite.”

His thoughts had already moved beyond the present.

Even if Louis has gone mad and is really pushing forward regardless of his reputation—five tons of Blackfire Demon Bombs have already been planted.

As long as the striker gets into the middle, as long as he pulls the switch.

Tens of thousands of people, along with that torrent of steel, will be buried in the canyon.

It's all Louis's fault.

Moreover, war history doesn't remember civilians; it only remembers the victors and the vanquished.

…………

"call out--!!"

It was a drawn-out, extremely sharp sound that cut through the air, like the hiss of some metallic beast as it swept across the night sky.

It is faster than thunder and more powerful than rain.

In Blackrock Canyon, almost at the same moment, everyone realized one thing: something was falling.

The fear didn't spread; it exploded outright.

The crowd suddenly collapsed inward. People instinctively covered their heads, some opened their mouths but could not make a sound, some were pushed into the mud and water, struggled to reach out their hands, and were quickly trampled back down.

The cries lasted only a moment before being squeezed into intermittent sobs.

The stampede has begun...

The mud churned, broken shoes and luggage were trampled into the silt, and those who fell quickly disappeared into the ever-moving human wall.

Martha stumbled from the crowd, clutching her child tightly and pressing the child's face to her chest.

She closed her eyes and waited for the sword of judgment to fall.

The world seemed to be silenced at that moment, but the expected explosion did not occur.

The shells, trailing orange-red flames, flew close to the crowd, so close that it felt like the heatwave was blowing up one's scalp.

The airflow swept away the rain, briefly tearing open a vacuum channel, as if some force was deliberately making way for them.

"Boom——!!"

It wasn't a magic explosive bomb aimed at flesh and blood, but a high-explosive magic explosive bomb specifically designed for breaching fortifications.

Accurate hit.

Behind the Gray Rock Supervisory Team, the No. 3 mine, which was covered by camouflage netting, was completely overturned in the firelight.

The shockwave was like an invisible giant hand, shattering the defenses with a single punch and tearing the camouflage net into shreds.

The mountain of flour sacks exploded in an instant, throwing pieces of cloth, ropes, and wooden crates into the night sky.

Tons of food were lifted by the blast wave and shot up hundreds of meters into the air.

The flames from the incendiary bombs ignited them.

The dust exploded in the high temperature, and the entire night sky suddenly lit up. A huge golden-red fire cloud rolled and expanded above the depression, and was constantly battered by the torrential rain.

Immediately afterwards, the unburnt wheat began to fall.

On a dark, rainy night, a strange, golden rain of flour fell in Blackrock Canyon.

What's truly deadly isn't the sight, but the taste.

The high temperature instantly scorched some of the wheat and also ignited the grease seeping from the curing barrels in the mine.

The aroma of roasted wheat, the strong smell of meat, and the rich, greasy scent of heated oil mingled together in the heat of the explosion.

With the help of the pre-calculated northwest wind, this smell, like an invisible hook, yanked fiercely into the canyon.

It burrowed into the nasal cavities of tens of thousands of people who had not eaten for three days and three nights.

It's the taste of survival!
At the very front of the oversight team, the burly knight with a fierce face froze.

White flour fell onto his helmet and shoulder armor, covering his face.

In that instant, he suddenly became clear-headed.

The previously apathetic crowd has begun to stir.

Countless pairs of green eyes passed over him and stared intently at the burning granary behind him.

"Stop!" The supervising officer brandished his long sword, his voice trembling with fear. "That's military rations! No one dares to move a single step!"

"boom!"

His response was a crisp, resounding bang.

On the Red Tide position, a heavily modified sniper crossbow was simultaneously fired.

The supervising officer's upper body exploded in the flames, like a watermelon smashed by a heavy hammer, with blood, flesh, and fragments of armor flying everywhere.

His roar abruptly stopped.

Immediately afterwards, a second, a third... explosion rang out in succession.

"Bang!" "Bang!" "Bang!"

The hunters of the Red Tide Vanguard began to fire.

They did not attack panicked refugees, nor did they pursue fleeing soldiers.

They only attacked the knights who were still holding knives and trying to maintain order.

One after another, the overseer knights fell amidst the firelight and rain.

It was as if an invisible knife was calmly and precisely cutting off the chains binding these refugees, one by one.

(End of this chapter)