Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports Chapter 142: Emily is determined

A brief silence in the hall was pierced as if by a lit spark.

The first to react was an old craftsman seated in a corner, who raised his clay cup high and shouted the first cheer: "Long live Red Tide! Long live Lord Louis!"

Imdiately, the sound erupted like a mountain torrent from all directions.

"Long live!"

"Long live Red Tide!!"

"A toast to Lord Louis!!"

Applause, shouts, and the crisp clinking of cups rged into a fervent wave, as if the entire hall was trembling.

So people's eyes reddened with excitent, so clenched their fists and waved them continuously, and others, while shouting, guzzled down a large gulp of strong liquor, their faces showing a long-lost joyful smile.

The gratitude on their faces was not blind adoration, but heartfelt recognition.

Emily sat at the table, her heart throbbing with each cry of "Long live Red Tide."

This was not just the climax of a banquet, but the awakening of a territory's soul.

During the rest of the banquet, laughter and clinking of glasses rose and fell, and a group of children, led by attendants, excitedly ran onto the small stage.

A slightly older child straightened his back, cleared his throat like an adult, and shouted:

"We are the Red Tide Children's Theater! We bring you the story of 'How the Great Lord Louis Used Strategy to Crush the Evil Snowsworn's Conspiracy'!"

Laughter and applause imdiately erupted from the audience.

The young actors divided their roles: Calvin, the tallest, wore a "Lord's cape" clearly made from a tablecloth, his expression incredibly solemn, playing Louis, repeatedly emphasizing "guarding the peace of Red Tide Territory" in his lines.

Several children wore homade "Snowsworn" masks, waving wooden swords as villains.

And a group of the youngest children simply played "flowers, plants, and trees," shaking paper leaves in their hands, using their tender movents to create a scene of a "granary."

The climax was Louis's clever plan to defeat the enemy.

Calvin shouted loudly: "Light the Magic Bombs!"

Imdiately, all the children in the "granary" troupe simultaneously fell to the ground with a "boom," simulating an earth-shattering "explosion" effect.

This drew a burst of laughter and continuous cheers from the audience.

Following this were several song and dance performances: so were folk songs praising Lord Louis for quelling the war and rebuilding the holand, and there were also choruses praising the hard work of the diligent people.

The entire hall was filled with a simple yet fervent atmosphere of joy.

However, Emily's thoughts barely lingered on these performances.

Her gaze involuntarily drifted towards the young Lord on the high seat.

She watched him raise his cup with a calm and composed deanor amidst the laughter; she watched him occasionally lower his head, conversing in low tones with the steward beside him, a hint of deep thought in his brows.

Those performances, though entertaining, and even a few scenes made her smile involuntarily.

But in Emily's mind, what echoed repeatedly were those questions:

How did this person co to be where he is today?

What is he truly thinking in his heart?

If they were to beco husband and wife, could she truly enter this person's world?

Emily stared blankly, lost in thought, even forgetting to put down the wine glass in her /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ hand.

"Louis," she silently whispered his na in her heart, with an uncontrollable curiosity and a quietly blossoming yearning,

secretly imagining their future.

Thus, the boisterous and lively banquet finally ca to an end, guests bid farewell in twos and threes with smiles, and gradually left the hall, still brimming with lingering satisfaction.

But Emily barely heard the final farewells.

She sat quietly, her heart stirring as if gently plucked, unable to settle for a long ti.

The laughter, the children's performance, and the toasts throughout the hall, all seed like a blurred dream.

Only the person on the high seat, Louis.

He was incredibly clear, firmly occupying her mind.

"What's wrong with —" she murmured softly, trying to compose herself, but her heart felt as if it were being licked by flas, a scorching heat that was hard to bear.

She returned to her residence, still unable to escape from that whirlwind of thoughts.

Standing before the mirror, her eyes flickered in the candlelight.

Finally, Emily took a deep breath as if she had made a decision, and turned to look at Nora, who was standing by her side.

"Nora," she said softly but firmly, "help remove my makeup."

Nora paused, hesitating for a mont: "But Miss—"

Her words were cut short by Emily's unusually bright eyes.

It was a resolute light, filled with anticipation, nervousness, and courage.

Nora opened her mouth, but ultimately asked nothing more, simply nodding silently and skillfully removing the makeup from her face.

The carefully drawn shadows were wiped away, the concealed colors faded, and the face in the mirror seed to be reborn.

The scar, which had been deliberately drawn, vanished with the traces of water.

In its place was an undeniably beautiful face.

A high nose bridge, deep blue eyes, carrying the unique coldness and sharpness of the Northern Lands.

Like a poppy blooming on a snowy plain, cold and deadly.

At that mont, the slightly weathered businesswoman, who seed to hide among the crowd, completely disappeared.

In her place was the true Emily Edmond.

The noble lady, once hailed as the "Flower of the North," now stood up with a newfound determination, elegant yet with a touch of heroic spirit.

"The cape, change it," she murmured.

She casually pulled off the drab hooded cloak and put on the deep blue gown that had long been prepared.

The brocade shimred under the light, outlining her tall figure, both dignified and imposing.

She gently straightened her skirt, then looked up at her reflection in the mirror, a subtle light burning in her eyes.

"Nora," she said slowly, her voice carrying an undeniable authority, "call a Red Tide guard."

Soon after, the steady footsteps of a guard were heard outside the door.

Upon opening the door, the guard was montarily stunned. Who was this?

Hadn't this place always been occupied by a low-key businesswoman?

How could such a beautiful woman with extraordinary temperant suddenly appear?

But he still politely said: "Miss, how may I assist you?"

Emily slowly turned around, raised her chin, and said in a proud tone: "Please inform Viscount Calvin that his fiancée, Emily Edmond, requests a eting."

Upon hearing that surna, his heart jolted, and he almost reflexively straightened his back, not daring to question it in the slightest.

"Understood! I will go inform him now!" The guard hastily responded, turning and leaving with swift movents.

The door closed again, and the room beca quiet once more.

Emily slowly exhaled, looking towards the door, her hands unconsciously tightening on her skirt.

"Louis—" she whispered his na in her heart, her eyes flickering with anticipation and apprehension.