King of the North: My Lord's Diary Weekly Summary

Wayne lay on the bed, finally able to completely relax and close his eyes.

He was no longer in such a hurry to sleep—although tired, he didn't seem that sleepy, and simply let his mind replay the events of the day:

Eric's rampage after his mutation, Tite leading the young villagers wielding pitchforks as they charged forward, the frost energy emanating from the exploding ice claws...

And then there was the subtle admiration in Ronald's eyes as he arrived; the gazes of the villagers along the way; and Wright's praise…

A strange feeling spread through my heart.

It's something heavier, but also more grounded.

It was as if everything he had done before—the so-called lord's notes summarizing a week of barely surviving, the iron-fisted discipline, and this week's looting and resistance—was just a prelude.

Today, when those young people take up arms and join his ranks for their homes, when the villagers look at him with awe rather than fear…

He was truly nailed to the frozen soil of the North.

Wayne opened his eyes and looked at his palm, which had the silver notebook on it.

The owner of the Lord's Notes is finally starting to look like a lord.

There are still more than 20 hours until the next settlement.

"What will you give me...?"

Wayne is looking forward to it.

……

Night fell completely over the North.

Wayne lay in bed for three hours, but only managed to get a short, light sleep.

For some reason, even though he had switched shifts with Ronald and Wright several times during the day to keep everyone focused—and the settlement was less than an hour away…

Everything was going in the positive direction predicted, so why did Wayne feel something was wrong?

Was it because the bandits hadn't made any moves for a day and a night after he killed the three bandit leaders?

But yes... even the lightest wounded soldiers under Wayne's command recovered immediately. What are the bandits waiting for?

This thought was like a thorn, stuck in the corner of Wayne's mind, interrupting his train of thought every now and then.

He sat up and rubbed his throbbing temples.

It's very quiet outside—almost too peaceful.

He swapped shifts with two knights several times during the day. The knights—especially Ronald—had an amazing ability to recover. After just a few two or three hours of rest during the day, they had fully recovered their energy.

Ronald and Wright both stated that even if they remained on guard all night, it wouldn't hinder Wayne's plan—to launch a counterattack before sunrise!

Without the harassment of the bandits, Wayne's energy had almost fully recovered.

As planned, Ronald will lead the team on guard duty tonight. Once the settlement rewards are announced, Wayne will start thinking about the strategy, and then join forces with Ronald and Wright to lead a counterattack!

That's how it should be.

Keweien lay in bed, feeling only turmoil.

The words of the old bandit he had stabbed to death echoed repeatedly in his mind:

"The third leader is extremely obedient to them, doing whatever they're told, like...like a dog!"

"It'll happen in the next couple of days."

"My appetite has become enormous..."

"The top leader and the second-in-command haven't changed at all!"

A contradictory clue.

Wayne sat up, put on his coat, and walked to the window.

The bandits had numbered nearly thirty by daytime, and their third leader had been killed in battle, yet there was no response.

This is not reasonable.

The bandits' previous offensive strategy was very methodical: multiple waves of probing, exhaustion, and decoy tactics.

This is not the kind of teamwork that a ragtag group could produce.

But their behavior has started to contradict itself in the last two days:

If they sent the third leader, who had undergone a transformation over several days, to attack, why did they divide their forces? And why did they remain inactive after the three leaders died?

If it's not for an offensive, then why waste so many troops?

Wayne frowned.

Why?

He felt as if his thoughts were shrouded in a fog.

The bandit's decision seemed completely contradictory, but reason told him that this was precisely the source of his unease.

The more illogical a behavior seems, the more likely it is to conceal an overlooked deadly move.

"Perhaps I should get back to the essence of the problem."

Wayne muttered to himself.

What is the essence of the problem?

It's about survival.

is victory.

After tonight, it will undoubtedly be the time when our side has the best chance of winning—our fighting strength has almost fully recovered, while the bandits have lost several men and their morale is low.

Therefore, no matter what the bandits plan, getting through tonight and settling accounts will ensure everything goes smoothly.

Looking out at the deep night, Wayne suddenly realized that his defensive arrangements were indeed not reasonable enough.

He's too rigid.

"I could have gone to defend alongside Ronald and taken turns resting."

He muttered to himself, "If there's a problem, just wake the other person up. Why do we have to split up for shifts?"

Wayne didn't know if this stemmed from his ingrained way of thinking, but he knew he had to change now.

With less than half an hour until the midnight settlement, he could go to Ronald's side first, stand guard while waiting for the settlement, and adjust his plan according to the reward situation.

He put on his leather armor, fastened his sword belt, and went out the door.

The cold air from outside hit him, instantly invigorating him.

The moonlight was faint, the starlight sparse, and the village was shrouded in shadow.

Wayne untied the horse's reins beside the house.

He was still calculating in his mind: if the bandits really chose to launch a surprise attack at this time, how strong would they be—would there still be such monsters?

"Theoretically, there shouldn't be any left. Besides, given Ronald's abilities, his 'stats' alone should be stronger than Eric's."

Thinking of this, Wayne felt relieved again.

He began to look forward to... how effectively he had handled the food and security crises, and even personally dealt with the third leader.

Whether it's the survival points, the power points that can be affected by dealing with the bandit threat and food situation, or even the extremely difficult-to-obtain reputation points that seem to be related to prestige, they shouldn't be low...

What will the log give him after the settlement? A weapon? A skill? Or will there be some other options?

He needs...

Sudden.

Wayne froze.

A familiar silver phantom appeared before my eyes without warning.

But it's not the checkout screen.

It's a death cutscene.

September 3rd, Arthurian calendar 324.

You tossed and turned, unable to sleep, and finally felt that it was too cruel to let Ronald go to the underworld alone, so you decided to go and keep him company.

Thus, you used your battles and lives to prepare a blood-soaked wedding dress for the conspirators.

"..."

Wayne froze on the spot, his heart almost stopping.

tonight.

Ronald will die?!

And... if I go there, I'll die too?!

"What the hell...?"

He uttered three words in a low voice.

My journal has never made a mistake.

So this is an inevitable future—if he follows his plan and goes to find Ronald to stand guard together.

But why?

How were the bandits able to kill Ronald?

What went wrong?!