Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 456 Military Parade! Heading South!
As Louis finished speaking, the air in the entire parade ground seemed to tighten instantly.

All eyes, without prior agreement, slid from the towering reviewing stand to the forefront of the formation.

Major General Gray stood upright on the half-track command vehicle, his back straight as a gun, like a crossbow bolt already drawn.

The next instant, his fighting spirit exploded from his chest.

"Qiang!"

The sound of the sword being drawn tore through the air, and a cold light drew a sharp arc, pointing straight to the sky.

"All troops line up! Prepare for inspection!!"

The roar was like thunder, carrying the killing intent honed through countless battles, and slammed into the crowd.

The previously restless viewing area was abruptly silenced by this shout, even slowing down the pace of breathing.

In the VIP section, Nico's eyes lit up slightly: "A good voice...and a murderous aura."

Before the words were finished, the heavy and primal sound of war drums suddenly rang out, striking the earth again and again.

The first phalanx advances from the horizon.

Saco rode on his black horse, his cold iron armor gleaming in the sunlight, the flames of his battle aura flickering between the gaps in the armor.

His gaze was direct and intense, fixed firmly on Louis on the reviewing stand.

He knew that Lord Louis, as well as his parents and brothers, were watching him at that moment.

Sakho's father stood ramrod straight in the crowd.

When he saw the child he was leading, he realized that sending the child to the Red Tide Territory was the best decision he had ever made.

Sakho's brothers clenched their fists, their eyes filled with longing.

But the real shock that followed Sarkoy was only just beginning.

The Crimson Tide Emblem shone on the uniform plate armor, and each knight exuded a stable and refined aura.

They are all extraordinary knights!
The black horses of the North trotted along, their horseshoes falling in a rhythm so precise it was almost unsettling, like the beating of a single, massive heart.

On the podium, Louis simply nodded slightly.

That small response was enough to make Sarko stand up straighter.

In the VIP section, Nico had already sat up completely upright.

The Eastern nobles beside him subconsciously began to count heads in hushed tones: "One...twenty...thirty...fifty..."

The sound grew softer and softer, but the counting slowed down.

When they realized they had lost count and were even afraid to continue counting, cold sweat broke out uncontrollably on their backs.

“More than three hundred…” Nico calculated quickly in his mind.

In the southeastern province, a count who can support twenty extraordinary knights is enough to dominate the region.

At the height of the Calvin family's power, there were no more than two hundred knights stationed at headquarters.

"Red Tide Territory...where did it get the resources to produce such a large quantity?"

What unsettled him even more was the youth of these knights, whose average age was under thirty-five, indicating that they were all exceptional geniuses, not talents built up over time and resources.

“That’s not all,” Nico said with almost certainty. “Given this young master’s personality, how did he manage to have three hundred men… if it’s just a show of force?”

Of course, what he didn't know was that the Red Tide Territory had a deeper foundation than the other dukes, because the daily intelligence system ensured that resources were never wasted.

Where can we find raw materials for medicines? Which medicines can break through the bottleneck? Which group of people deserve our support in acquiring battle qi materials?

All the gambling and chance here has become precise investment.

Among the old nobles of the North, Earl Abbott stroked his beard, his face ruddy.

“See it clearly.” He said in a low voice to the young lords beside him, “This is what a Guardian of the North should look like.”

Looking at that iron-clad cavalry, he seemed to see the shadow of Earl Edmund from years past. But this force was younger and more powerful.

"Defend the North?" Abette narrowed her eyes. "No, this power is more than enough to conquer the world."

After the extraordinary knight formation passed, the scene suddenly changed.

The Icefield Wolf Riders swept across the parade ground like a gray-silver wave.

The giant wolf moved silently, while the knight wore light armor and carried a composite bow diagonally across his back.

The wolf pack itself is a formation, and the interplay of wildness and discipline creates a breathtaking beauty.

Screams erupted from the crowd.

Immediately following was the tremor of the ground, and the polar bear group came into view.

Its massive body was clad in heavy half-body armor, and every step it took left a clear white mark on the stone slab.

These monster knights could not possibly be as powerful as the extraordinary knights, but their power was more outwardly apparent, and even the most ordinary people could understand it and thought it was even more awesome.

The cheers surged like a tsunami.

As the last polar bear passed the reviewing stand, Nico slowly exhaled.

It was powerful, but in his mind, it was still within the realm he could comprehend.

On the command platform, Gray's lips curled into a cold smile.

The right hand, gloved in white, slowly rose, making a clean cutting gesture.

The sound of war drums abruptly ceased.

The next second, that deep and terrifying steam whistle tore through the sky once again.

“Warm-up complete, now for the truth,” Gray said with a smile.

Three short, clear commands echoed across the parade ground.

Major General Gray raised his right hand and slowly pressed it down.

The crowd, who had just been immersed in the clash of cavalry and monsters, soon discovered that the real sense of oppression did not come from the roars and galloping, but from an unsettling silence.

At the horizon, the Red Tide Infantry Division began its advance.

Their steps were slow, yet precise, like the meshing of gears.

The gray-black uniforms were neat and uniform, the gun butts were close to the shoulders, and the muzzles of the guns were slightly raised. All movements were precise and without any unnecessary movements, like a moving iron wall.

What they held in their hands were not spears or lances, nor any weapons familiar to the nobles.

It was a long, slender, and sleek "iron pipe" with simple lines.

On the viewing platform, a barely audible hum rang out.

Count Harvey frowned instinctively, his hand holding the teacup frozen in mid-air.

"These people..." he said in a low voice, "are they here with firewood sticks? What are they doing here?"

The tone wasn't sarcastic, but rather a pure lack of understanding.

He is a newly emerging wealthy nobleman in the south of the empire, who has become rich through shipping, mining and finance, and is currently enjoying great influence in the capital.

Before the second prince took control of the capital, he had keenly sensed the danger and immediately transferred most of his family business to the northern border to seek refuge with his second son, believing himself to be wise enough.

But at this moment, he couldn't understand what was happening in front of him at all.

The eyes of Jon, who was sitting next to him, were frighteningly bright.

“Father.” His voice was low, but with an almost reverent certainty, “Just watch, Lord Louis’s weapon will surprise you.”

Earl Harvey paused slightly, then turned to look at his second son.

Jon Harvey, the second son of House Harvey of the South, is now Viscount Silverridge Hill in the North.

She was also the one with the most steadfast stance in the entire Northern noble circle.

From the very beginning, he made no secret of his choice. While everyone else was still observing and hesitating, he had already publicly declared that he would "cling to Louis's coattails." Of course, this statement also brought him huge benefits.

In Earl Harvey's view, this almost reckless loyalty had once made him extremely uneasy.

But now, he somewhat believed in these metaphysical beliefs, so he didn't immediately refute them.

The soldiers on the field had stopped in their tracks.

At the end of the parade ground, three hundred scarecrows dressed in full heavy plate armor were neatly arranged, complete with helmets, breastplates, and shoulder guards, built entirely to the specifications of heavily armored knights.

Gray's hand fell, and the whistle ripped through the air with a sharp blast.

The soldiers in the first rank all knelt down simultaneously, with the butts of their rifles against their shoulders and the muzzles of their rifles level.

"boom--!!!"

A thunderous explosion erupted.

The blue flames driven by the magic marrow spewed out from the muzzle of the gun simultaneously, forming a cold and deadly light screen.

Time seemed to stretch out for a moment.

The armored scarecrow in the distance immediately disintegrated.

The heavy steel was torn and rolled by terrifying kinetic energy, and iron pieces mixed with straw shot into the sky, as if it had been hit head-on by an invisible giant hammer.

The wind whipped up debris and rushed toward the viewing area. The crowd fell silent for a moment, then erupted in deafening gasps.

For most ordinary people, this was just excitement and novelty, but those in the know had already changed their expressions.

Count Harvey's hand trembled violently.

He was completely unaware that tea had spilled on his expensive outer robe.

“This…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “This power… if that last round had hit my knight…”

The words were left unsaid, but the answer was all too clear.

On the other side of the VIP section, Nico was already sitting up straight.

His pupils contracted slightly, his gaze fixed on the shattered fragments of plate armor.

“Without the enhancement of battle aura…” he murmured, “pure kinetic energy.”

Nico quickly deduced the scenario in his mind.

If one were a super knight, they would unleash their full battle aura and meet this barrage head-on...

It can be stopped, but it will certainly not be easy.

The shield will be shattered, and the battle aura will be rapidly depleted.

But what about a heavily armored knight below the extraordinary level...?

Nico's gaze swept over the wreckage of plate armor torn into pieces, and he had already reached a conclusion in his mind.

"Whether you live or die depends on luck, but if you get hit head-on, your combat power will be wiped out in an instant." Nico slowly exhaled, a chill running down his spine.

So-called knightly charges are nothing more than death rituals before this cold infantry line.

Bradley, the old butler who had been by his side the whole time, smiled slightly and poured Nico a fresh cup of tea.

“Lord Nico,” he said casually, “are you wondering if this is some kind of one-time-use alchemical tool?” Nico did not answer, but his silence was an admission.

“No.” Bradley shook his head slightly, his gaze falling on the infantry line still emitting smoke in the field. “These are called rifles. The principle is actually not complicated. The purified magic marrow dust explodes instantly, propelling the metal bullet to kill with kinetic energy.”

He held up one finger and made a trivial gesture: "What's truly terrifying about it is never its power, but its cost."

Bradley's gaze swept over the young, silent soldiers, his tone calm to the point of cruelty.

“To train an extraordinary knight like yourself requires talent, potions, resources, and at least twenty years, costing no less than ten thousand gold.”

“And training a qualified musketeer only requires a trainee knight in three months.”

He then pointed to the pile of broken plate armor wreckage in the distance, a perfectly standard Calvin family smile playing on his lips.

"If the value of supporting a full-fledged knight is a thousand gold coins."

"The cost of those bullets that shattered him was probably fifty silver coins."

"Use fifty silver coins to exchange for a thousand gold coins. That's the economics of war that the young master taught me."

Nico's hand, holding the teacup, remained suspended in mid-air, not bringing it to his lips for a long time.

“This is no longer a war of knights…” he said softly, his voice carrying a sense of disorientation, as if he had been left behind by the times. “This is the mass processing of lives.”

Nico's mind raced, subconsciously using his decades of war experience to try and mend his crumbling worldview.

He forced himself to calm down. The power was indeed terrifying, but as long as the Knights were fast enough, there was still a possibility of breaking through during that brief reload interval.

As long as one can get close to these infantrymen carrying iron pipes, one is ultimately just flesh and blood.

The weakness of the Red Tide Territory lies in its sustained firepower.

The thought had barely formed in his mind when a sharp, piercing steam hissing sound ruthlessly shattered his self-comfort.

The ground began to shake slightly.

Six heavy steam cars belching white steam slowly drove into the parade ground.

They dragged bizarrely shaped metal devices, some resembling bundles of thick iron pipes arranged side by side, others like square launchers arranged in a honeycomb pattern, cold and silent.

Major General Gray stood on the command vehicle and made only a brief gesture with his hand.

"Clean up the scene."

The next moment, the world lost its rhythm.

The barrel of the rotary machine gun began to spin at high speed, and the "sizzling" sound it made during preheating was enough to make one's teeth ache, before it was completely swallowed up.

“Thump, thump, thump, thump—!!!”

That could no longer be called gunshots; it was a continuous roar.

Flames erupted as if they were real, and the barrage of bullets transformed into a torrent of metal that swept across the battlefield, as if tearing apart a huge rag.

Almost at the same time, the rocket launchers behind emitted a piercing shriek.

Several alchemical rockets, trailing white contrails, pierced the air and covered the rear half of the iron plate array.

Nico watched helplessly as the dense wooden planks simulating a human wave charge were completely flattened in just a few seconds.

Iron filings, fragments, and frozen debris were repeatedly pulverized by the barrage of bullets and blasts, the ground was plowed over and over again, and even the traces of its existence were wiped out.

His newly constructed illusion of "rushing through and winning" was shattered at that moment.

This rate of fire...

Even before the sorcerer finishes chanting the incantation, the person has already been torn to pieces.

The only effect of human wave tactics against it is to fill the ground with corpses faster.

Nico's throat tightened, but this was not the end.

The teacups on the viewing platform began to bounce violently, the porcelain clattering with a crisp, ominous sound.

On the distant horizon, billowing black smoke rose, obscuring the already dim sunlight.

Twelve heavy steam tanks roared into the arena.

“This is the legendary mobile fortress…” Nico muttered to himself. “With this thickness, siege crossbows can’t penetrate it at all. This thing is invincible on the battlefield…”

The tank formation came to a stop.

The turret slowly rotated, and the sound of gears meshing clearly echoed throughout the field.

The target was dragged a kilometer away, and a ten-ton obsidian boulder was placed in the center of the test area.

This type of ore is as hard as a city wall and is usually only used to withstand impacts of forbidden spells.

Bradley stood beside Nico, his tone still gentle: "Lord Nico, you were just thinking that you'd be safe as long as you stayed behind the city walls, right?"

Nico did not answer.

"Look, this is the answer the young master gave."

The world was forcibly ripped open in the next instant.

"boom--!!!"

The alchemical main cannon roared, and the terrifying recoil caused the tens of tons of steel behemoth to suddenly sink, with the dust kicked up by the cannon forming a visible shock ring.

The obsidian boulder seemed to be wiped away by an invisible hand the instant it made contact with the rock.

A small mushroom cloud rose from the center of the explosion, leaving only a deep crater with its edges in a state of vitrified melting, from which blue smoke slowly rose.

The parade ground fell into dead silence.

Even the cheers of the common people came to a halt.

Nico's fingers began to tremble uncontrollably.

He firmly believed that, given enough sacrifice, individual combat power could reverse any battle situation.

But looking at those twelve dark cannon muzzles, he finally lowered his head.

Even a peak knight burning his life force... couldn't withstand three shots.

Red Tide possesses countless vehicles.

He turned around and looked at the young figure on the platform, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

On the other side, Count Harvey suddenly grabbed his son Jon's hand, his eyes blazing with an almost insane light.

“Jorn! You did a great job!” He stared at the still-smoking crater, his voice trembling with excitement. “Following Louis was the right decision. Our Harvey family is going to be rich!”

The tank formations did not bring the parade to a close.

After the steel behemoth slowly drove out of sight, the ground shook again.

The engineering corps appeared on one side of the parade ground.

The massive bridge-building vehicle unfolds its folded steel beams, resembling a steel insect stretching its limbs.
The bucket of the steam-powered shovel reflected a cold light, and even when it was just idling, it carried the feeling that the terrain did not exist.

The knowledgeable nobles' expressions changed slightly, which meant that the Red Tide army did not need to wait, nor was it needed to be slowed down by rivers and canyons; the war was linear in their eyes.

Next came the logistics corps.

A seemingly endless line of steam-powered trucks slowly drove by, their cargo compartments filled with field kitchens and crates of medical equipment.

Some people smelled the aroma of coffee and broth, while others explained that it enabled soldiers to have hot meals even in the trenches.

…………

In the VIP section, Bradley spoke in a low, calm voice: "War is about logistics."

He smiled slightly: "Our soldiers can drink hot coffee on the front lines. The enemy... can only eat dry bread."

The subtext is self-evident: the Red Tide Territory is not only capable of fighting, but also wealthy enough to treat war as an industrial project.

As the last formation returned to its position, the entire parade ground fell into an almost reverent silence.

Louis walked to the front of the platform and began his speech.

The wind tousled his hair, and sunlight fell on his slightly tired yet incredibly resolute face.

He glanced around at the sea of ​​people at his feet, then spoke:

"My father, Duke Calvin, a guardian who dedicated his life to the Empire, is dead."

He didn't die from illness, but from betrayal, from heartbreak.

A suppressed gasp rose from the crowd.

Louis's gaze sharpened: "What are those heretics in the southeastern provinces doing, cloaked in holy garb? They are levying heavy taxes on the common people in the name of faith."

They stole the farmers' last rations to build magnificent churches; they branded the rebels as heretics and called hunger "atonement."

His voice gradually rose in pitch.

“My father tried to stop all of this, to protect the people there. As a result, he was placed under house arrest and died with resentment in his heart!”

The truth is not important; what matters is that the people in the audience have clenched their fists.

"The people of the southeast are starving!" Louis suddenly looked up, pointing straight south. "Our compatriots are bleeding!"

The cold iron longsword was drawn from its sheath, slicing a cold light in the sunlight.

"Warriors of the Red Tide! We march south not only for revenge, but also for liberation!"

"Go and smash the shackles of the Vatican! Go and bring bread, freedom, and justice to the people of the Southeast!"

Nico, standing in the shadows below the stage, listened to this impassioned speech, and the corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily.

He knew better than anyone that the Duke was never a benevolent protector.

The so-called liberation was essentially a complete armed annexation.

But when he looked at the young and composed figure on the platform, an indescribable sense of respect rose in his heart.

The crowd's fervor finally erupted.

Down with the Papacy!

"Liberate the Southeast!"

"Avenge the Duke!"

Hats were thrown into the air, and shouts rose like waves.

After witnessing the steel and flames firsthand, no one doubted the outcome.

Merchants began calculating profits rapidly, knights craved military merit, northern nobles reveled, and commoners were immersed in a sense of glory at the prospect of saving others.

In the VIP section, Count Harvey gripped his son Jon's hand tightly, his eyes burning with rage.

“Do you see that?” he said in a low voice. “That’s the trend.”

Without hesitation, he turned to his attendant and ordered, "Go tell Steward Bradley that the Harvey family has donated the first batch of military rations free of charge."

From the high platform, Louis swung his longsword down: "All troops, attack! Head south!"

(End of this chapter)