Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 96 Human Tragedy
“Winter…fishing grounds?” Luke was taken aback, but immediately realized, “You mean the kind of ice fishing where the ice opens? We usually do that.”

“Almost,” Louis nodded, “but I have a few points to improve.”

He took out a map, pointed to several tributaries on it, carefully chose his words, and then explained his idea:
"River sections with low-lying terrain, slow water flow, and slow freezing speed can be given priority."

First, chisel out the ice opening, then reinforce the edges with thick planks and stones to prevent the opening from collapsing.

Then, they use ice nets to catch small fish and minced meat as bait to create a feeding area. They also set up small posts for fishermen to take turns fishing once in the morning and once in the evening.

You can also dig drainage ditches to channel excess hot spring water or geothermal water there. Every bit of warm water is helpful, so the fish don't freeze to death.

Of course, these are just some of my ideas. You're in charge of the specifics; you don't have to follow my instructions exactly. Just make sure you catch as many fish as possible.

"Yes! I will do my best!" Luke patted his chest. "If it really works, there won't be a shortage of meat in the entire Red Tide Territory during the winter!"

“You’re exaggerating, but even if you only produce a few dozen kilograms a day, it’s better than nothing,” Louis replied calmly.

Luke responded and left, quickly sketching something in his notebook while muttering, "The master is truly a genius."

Although the first snow has not yet arrived, the winter food preparation battle in the Red Tide Territory has already begun, marking the start of the second line of defense.

…………

The sky was overcast and oppressive, and the wind howled through the dilapidated rooftops, stirring up a pile of charred ashes.

Ian knelt in a dilapidated house, holding the unconscious Mia in his arms, his expression one of despair.

The girl's face was burning hot, her lips were chapped, and her eyelashes trembled gently in the wind, like withered leaves in late autumn.

"Wake up...Mia, you have to wake up..."

Ian wiped her forehead with his sleeve, his movements so careful it was as if he were afraid that if he used too much force, he would wipe her off the face of the earth.

Komia showed no reaction whatsoever, and her breath was even weakening little by little.

Frustrated by his efforts, Ian lowered his head, buried his face in his daughter's shoulder, and let out a suppressed sob.

But no one responded to him.

This place was once the village on which their ancestors had depended for survival for generations.

Two months ago, you could still hear children laughing and playing by the stream, wives washing clothes and chatting by the well, and men hauling timber to repair houses in the winter.

Ian's house was located at the entrance of the village. It was neither too big nor too small. He had a virtuous wife and a lovely little daughter named Mia.

He never imagined that all of this would disappear in an instant.

The first attack was two months ago, when the Snowsworn rode their warhorses down the mountain pass like a sudden avalanche.

There were no horns, no warnings.

The men didn't even have time to grab their axes before they fell into pools of blood.

The woman and child had no chance to escape and were dragged into the fire.

Ian happened to be chopping wood in the back hills that day, and when he returned, the village had been burned to the ground in a sea of ​​red flames.

He only had time to rush into his house and carry his daughter out from the corner of the house.

The wife was not found, nor was her body seen; only her apron and shoes were found beside the broken stove.

He had no choice but to take his daughter and flee into the mountains behind the village. They hid in the woods for three days, surviving on mountain spring water and tree bark.

A few days later, they and the other survivors returned to the village.

The village was completely looted.

The corpses were already rotting, some had been dragged away by wild animals, the warehouse had been looted, and even the well water was oily and smelly.

Someone tried a sip and never woke up the next day.

Ian covered the well and sealed it with gravel, not daring to let Mia come near it.

He carried Mia and searched room by room.

He carefully searched through all the existing mud houses, looking for anything edible, usable, or that could be burned.

Even if it was just a piece of dry bread that wasn't completely moldy, or a tattered animal hide. At that moment, he had only one thought in his mind: as long as Mia survived.

He cleared out a wooden hut at the back, where the door had been burned down, and nailed it shut with two large planks.

The roof was drafty, so he climbed up and patched it with a thick layer of burlap and straw.

There were moldy rice grains in the corner of the wall. He sifted them clean little by little, put them into a pot and cooked them into porridge, then fed them to her spoonful by spoonful.

Every day, we had to go out to gather firewood, find wild vegetables, and turn over muddy ground, hoping to find some radishes that weren't completely rotten or catch a wild rabbit.

At first, things were alright. Although Mia was weak, she could open her eyes, smile, and even whisper jokes: "Daddy, you stole the little mouse's food again. It will be angry."

But the night before last, she suddenly developed a high fever.

She was shivering, but said she was cold; her lips were pale, and her forehead was burning.

Ian panicked and stuffed everything that could be burned into the stove, even putting his own coat under the mattress.

He fed her herbal decoction and a little bit of dry food.

But it was no use. Mia grew weaker day by day, spoke less and less, and could no longer open her eyes.

Just now, old Ewan made a special trip.

He was one of the few surviving elderly people in the village, and was highly respected.

He bent over as he entered the room, glanced at the child on the kang (a heated brick bed), and then looked at Ian: "She's dying."

Ian didn't speak, but he tightened his grip on his daughter's hand.

Old Eun took a few steps closer and sighed, "This burning is beyond saving... If it drags on any longer, it will kill you too."

He pointed outside: "The little river behind the house hasn't frozen over yet."

Ian looked up, his pupils constricting instantly: "What are you trying to say?"

“Releasing her is a relief for you, it will save her some suffering,” old Eun said.

The air suddenly turned as cold as frozen snow.

“Say it again.” Ian’s voice was as hoarse as sandpaper.

Old Eun wanted to persuade him further: "Ian, be realistic! If she were awake, she wouldn't want you to risk your life for her..."

"Get out." Ian stood up, his eyes devoid of any color. "Get out now."

Old Eun sighed and shrank back as he retreated.

The moment the door closed, the room fell silent again, with only the crackling of the fire and the girl's intermittent breathing remaining.

Ian sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), holding Mia and carefully pressing her forehead against his chest.

She was so hot, it looked like she could be burned to ashes at any moment.

He had no choice, he really had no other way.

The firewood was almost burned out, and there was only a few mouthfuls of clean water left.

Ian dared not close his eyes, dared not sleep, could only hold her and repeat in his heart again and again, "Hang in there... just a little longer... just a little longer..."

Just then, the sound of horses' hooves suddenly rang out in the distance.

"Da, da, da, da..."

"Could it still be those bandits?"

Ian froze, his breath caught in his throat for a moment, and his eyes darted frantically around, trying to find a way to escape.

How do we escape now? What can we use to escape?
He was barely able to keep going on his own, and Mia had a high fever and couldn't even walk.

Ian gritted his teeth, his fingers reaching for the wood-chopping knife by the stove, his eyes fixed on the doorway.

(End of this chapter)