Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports Chapter 282: Fall

Wind Fla Valley, this winding and perilous canyon, lay quietly on the edge of the Northern Territory's heartland.

The towering sentinel walls on both sides resembled a gateway between heaven and earth.

Watchtowers stood atop the cliffs, stone projection platforms and Magic Bomb arrays were already in place, and the Third Legion's battle flag flapped in the morning breeze.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, but the thick fog had not dispersed, and white frost still clung to the rock walls, shrouding the entire canyon in a pale, damp mist, making it exceptionally silent—

It was the stillness before a storm.

Suddenly—Boom! Boom! Boom!

Heavy, muffled thuds, like a drumbeat, ca from afar, as if so giant creature was stepping in the distance, yet they were regular and rhythmic, like a roar from underground.

This was the drum of the Northern Barbarian army, echoing through the morning valley, and with each beat, the soldiers' hearts pounded.

Imdiately after, the ground began to tremble, and heavily armored monstrous beasts appeared in the fog.

They were massive, like oxen or bears, but covered in dense, plant-like scales, with red vines coiling within each scale.

So exhaled crimson mist, others had multiple legs, like moving fortresses crawling across the ground; as they ran, the earth seed to groan.

They did not roar, only the thunderous pounding of their hooves and claws on the ground, like living battering rams silently approaching.

And behind them, the Northern Barbarian cavalry appeared.

They rode not warhorses, but mutated mounts.

Lizard-horses with tusks, armored Icefield Wolves, and even half-plant, half-beast hybrids, each rider enveloped in fury and strange phenona.

The knights wore rough armor, with floral crown markings appearing on their shoulders and helts, battle aura flickering in their eyes, and emotional contagion radiating from their bodies.

They let out low growls, like a pack of beasts about to howl, and their front line surged forward like an arrow.

At the entrance to Wind Fla Valley, before the Imperial defense line, battle was imminent.

General Rudolph, however, was not rely a noble who could only write; he was the commander of the Imperial Seventh Legion, a high-level extraordinary knight who had participated in two bloody battles, “Ashen Hills” and “Tarim Cross,” a general who had genuinely risen through the ranks by his own strength.

He slowly rose, drained the wine in his cup, wiped his mouth, and revealed a slight smile.

It was his usual smile: contemptuous, mocking, looking at everyone as if they were bumpkins.

“They’ve finally arrived,” he snorted lightly towards the direction of the drumbeats at the distant valley entrance, then turned to put on his military uniform, straightening his epaulets and cloak, and calmly ordered as he walked:

“Sound the horn, prepare for battle. Move the Magic Bomb projectors to high ground, position the sniper platforms, and tell the vanguard to form ranks!”

He spoke calmly, at an unhurried pace, as if arranging a spring hunt rather than preparing for a bloody, one-way battle of offense and defense.

The young adjutant Serian was nervous but also excited: “Should the knights prepare to charge?”

Rudolph raised a hand to stop him, casually grabbed his monocle and put it on, looking towards the valley entrance still shrouded in morning fog, and coldly ordered: “Magic Bomb array, fire all at once.”

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom—!

Six alchemical projectors launched simultaneously, alchemical napalm mixed with explosive crystals, trailing long fiery tails as they slamd into the beast horde.

The air was suddenly filled with scorching, pungent explosive smoke.

The bursting fire rain dyed the front line blood red, and large numbers of mutated beasts were blown away.

They writhed and howled in the flas, falling like charcoal, kicking their four hooves wildly, rolling and thrashing on the hot ground.

Rolling stones and napalm poured down the slopes on both sides, like a mountain collapse or a tsunami.

Heavy rocks overturned the charging beasts at the front, and the entire canyon echoed with the sound of cracking bones.

“Fire arrows!”

Following the command, the Imperial archers quickly ford ranks, drew their bows, and a rain of arrows swept down like a night wind, precisely harvesting the survivors in the chaotic formation.

The knights' battle aura arrows drew streaks of incandescent light in the air, and the monstrous beasts turned into piles of fallen corpses amidst their roars.

A few heavy ramming beasts covered in thick vine armor struggled to escape but were swallowed by flas, wailing as they fell.

The front-line soldiers imdiately erupted in thunderous cheers, and the horns on the watchtowers blared, seemingly already seeing the dawn of victory.

Rudolph stood on the command platform, raising his telescope to look at the front line, only to see a sky full of fire at the valley entrance, piles of dead beasts, and the charge temporarily halted.

A sneer appeared on his lips: “Northern Barbarians are just thick-skinned beasts. Strip them of their fur, and they are nothing.”

The ssenger behind him bowed, waiting, and he waved his hand lightly: “Go, invite the dance troupe to the central army, beat so drums, and perform a dance. Victory needs a sense of ritual.”

Then he turned and sat back in his chair, smoothing the wrinkles on his cloak, as if the smoke and death were just a speck of dust before a banquet.

However, just as Rudolph had sat down and before his teacup had been raised, a earth-shattering roar suddenly ca from the direction of the distant mountain pass at the front line.

Imdiately after, several massive objects streaked across the sky, crashing down like teors.

They were giant stones, huge logs, and other massive objects, tearing through the fog with a whistling wind, slamming heavily into the canyon defense line.

An arrow tower above the main fortress was imdiately snapped in half, wood and stone splattered, and several archers scread as they fell.

Another flying giant log grazed the edge of the catapult platform, knocking over half a set of equipnt, and igniting two napalm soldiers along with their fire before they could move.

These projectiles themselves were not precise enough, nor did they have the power of the Empire's regular firearms, but there were too many of them, like a disaster falling from the sky.

The front line of the battlefield imdiately fell into chaos, and the army formation was forced to retreat and regroup.

Closely following was a series of tremors like thunder rolling down a mountain peak; the ground was shaking.

From the side of the mountain pass, a giant charging squad composed of dozens of Frost Giants, five to ten ters tall, charged headlong!

Their bodies were covered in living vines, their muscles bulged, and their exposed bones were wrapped in vine armor, forming strange patterns.

As they ran, they let out bestial roars, their fists like hamrs, their steps like drums, each step causing the rock walls of Wind Fla Valley to tremble slightly.

Rudolph saw it clearly through his telescope, yet his expression remained unchanged, only letting out a cold snort: “A scary trick.”

He waved his hand and said: “Continue to hold the line, priority targets, shoot the big ones first.”

Magic Bombs were fired again, rolling stones tumbled, and fire rain poured down.

But the Frost Giants stepped into the line of fire almost fearlessly, flas licking at the vines on their bodies, but not stopping their advance.

The vine armor they wore seed to possess extrely high heat resistance and physical protection, and so giants' vine armor even rapidly regenerated and coiled under the flas, moving like living creatures.

The Empire's archers and crossbown's shots and the Magic Bomb array's strikes felt like hitting a flowing mountain.

Effective, but far from enough.

At the sa ti, the barbarian rear army surged forward like a flood.

Monstrous beasts roared and charged, mutated cavalry wielding long spears weaved between the gaps in the giants, wave after wave, seemingly endless.

The battlefield beca a flood impacting a stone dam.

Rudolph's expression subtly changed, a hint of indescribable dread flashing in his heart: “These madn—how did they suddenly co out in full force? How are these beasts getting more and more... stronger and stronger? Did I... co to the wrong place?”

He gritted his teeth, suddenly waved his hand, and roared furiously: “Order! Three thousand knights of the Silverwing Regint, charge!”

Horns blared in response, echoing through the canyon, like angry thunder rolling over the silver snow-capped mountain walls.

On the east side of the canyon, heavy gates opened, and a tide of silver armor poured out.

Three thousand Imperial knights lined up at the front, their armor reflecting the sun, their battle flags fluttering.

Battle aura burned on their bodies, like eagles spreading their wings, like morning light tearing through the fog.

Silverwing insignias shone with cold light, warhorses neighed, iron hooves shook the ground, and three thousand riders stirred up a steel storm!

“Long live the Empire!”

A roar erupted, and the knight legion charged out from the flank, like a sword light cutting into the chaotic front line.

Swords and blades clanged in unison, cutting through the air, crashing into the crimson killing field.

Red and silver, flowers and blood, battle aura and fury, collided violently in the valley. Initially, the montum of the charge pushed the barbarian vanguard back several steps, but the subsequent battle was sothing these knights, no matter how hard they racked their brains, could not have imagined.

Hunter was a mber of the Imperial Third Legion's Silverwing Knights, having participated in dozens of battles against the Erald Federation, his long blade stained with enemy blood, but he had never seen such enemies.

They charged extrely smoothly at first.

Where the spear point reached, beast blood splattered, battle aura scorched vines, warhorses neighed in the flas, everything unfolded like previous victories.

Though the barbarian army was fierce, in this narrow valley terrain, they could not launch a true charge.

He once thought victory was within reach, until he cut off the head of a Northern Barbarian cavalryman.

Blood splattered on his silver cloak, and before Hunter could even shake the blood from his blade, the fallen body in front of him suddenly burst into flas.

It was not ordinary fla, but a distorted fire, a mixture of plant and flesh burning.

That corpse, like a

spark

of so plant propagation, released a scorching red mist the mont it fell, instantly spreading and covering several Northern Barbarian warriors nearby.

The next second, the roars of those barbarian soldiers suddenly intensified!

The eyes of those charging Northern Barbarians instantly turned red, their bodies swelled, patterns like ironwood grain appeared on their muscle surface, and vines grew wildly from the gaps in their armor, coiling around their limbs, as if they had been buffed.

They could even tear spears with their bare hands and send mounted warriors flying.

“They absorbed the death energy of their comrades!?”

Another Northern Barbarian warrior fell not far away, and a violent explosion reignited a cloud of red mist, causing three nearby tribesn to instantly roar skyward.

Their vine armor suddenly swelled, turning them into human-shaped beasts that charged forward madly.

“The more they die, the crazier they get!!”

Hunter heard soone scream, but it was too late to think.

His teammate had just cut down an enemy, but the next mont he was struck off his horse by an axe from a “strengthened” Northern Barbarian beside him, and he and his warhorse were sent flying several feet, crashing heavily onto the vine-covered ground.

Where was this a battlefield?

It was an altar, a sacrifice!

It was the blood and bones of living people, used to awaken a storm of vines and fury.

Not only that, every fallen corpse seed to complete so bizarre sowing at the mont of death.

Within the remains, vine seeds instantly burst, giving rise to new vines and new flowers.

Crimson light surged like a blood mist, twisting vines danced wildly like snakes, growing madly, coiling around warhorses' legs, tearing apart knights' armor, and seeping into flesh through cracks.

Every drop of blood was irrigation.

Every dead person was fertilizer.

The entire battlefield was like a living garden, a garden of wrath nourished by the blood and flesh of both the Empire and the Northern Barbarians, growing wildly, twisting, and dancing in the smoke of battle.

From the high platform, Rudolph watched it all.

His silver hair trembled slightly in the wind, and the usual contempt in his eyes was being swallowed by shadow.

He watched with his own eyes as the Silverwing Knight Legion, those three thousand elites who had once struck fear into enemy hearts, were now seemingly caught in a blood net that tightened with every battle.

Every one of their charges fed the enemy supplents,

Every inch of their advance brought only a more furious counterattack.

“Impossible.” Rudolph gritted his teeth, clutching the railing tightly, as if speaking to himself, “They are just barbarians, just savages—”

But this was ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) not a barbarian tribe; this was a war collective infected with so uncontrollable power, an army of monsters that fed on death.

He had originally thought this would be an easy defensive battle.

He would write glorious military achievents on this stable border defense, then be transferred back to the south, retire as a true Imperial capital noble, and live an elegant life.

But now he stood on the edge of this valley entrance, watching an Imperial front line that was losing control, falling, and rotting, like a fool watching his knights being swallowed by flowers.

He fiercely flung off his cloak, turned, and loudly ordered: “Send all remaining knights to block them! Just hold out for a few days, and reinforcents will arrive!”

Adjutant Serian hesitated for a mont, but ultimately accepted the order and departed.

And Rudolph hurried onto the main fortress's command platform, staring intently at the burning front line.

The Imperial army only held out for two days.

Two days and two nights, all arrows were fired, Magic Bombs were exhausted, and the catapult platforms were completely scrapped after repeated firing.

Knights charged wave after wave, one team falling, another replacing it.

But the enemy's main force never appeared.

From beginning to end, they only faced the vanguard in this war.

Even so, the Third Imperial Army still retreated steadily.

The Northern Barbarian vanguard grew crazier with each battle, stronger with each death. Whether it was the blood of their own people or the blood of the Imperials, it all beca a stimulant for their spirits.

They seed to have no fear of death at all. Every corpse was like an offering that made them fight even more wildly.

This was a sacrifice, madness, purgatory.

And the Imperial knights, no matter how well-trained and resolute, were ultimately human.

They would grow tired, they would feel fear, and they would watch their comrades die and be swallowed by vine flowers.

At so point, they would be broken by psychological collapse.

Finally, before dawn on the third day, the defense line was breached.

A huge shadow leaped up from behind the mountain, and several giant logs whistled down. “Block them—!!”

Before anyone could finish shouting, the main gate of the fortress shattered with a thunderous crash, dust swirling like fog.

Vines poured in through the cracks like a tide, and Frost Giants swung their giant hamrs, collapsing arrow towers.

Barbarian knights followed closely, their warhorses trampling into the camp.

The first fortress of the Northern Territory had fallen!

By this ti, Rudolph had already quietly retreated, clad in his battle robe, leading his remaining personal guard, fleeing in disarray from the southern mountain path.

He had loudly proclaid, “Just hold out for a few days and reinforcents will arrive,” yet he abandoned his knights and chose to flee.

Amidst the rolling smoke, so followed him, so roared at his disappearing figure, while others didn't even have ti to curse before they were ensnared by enraged vines bursting from underground and dragged into the earth.

Far away, on a mountain rock, a flower-like object quietly blood.

It was not a flower, yet it possessed a more eerie charm than any flower.

Fleshy petals entwined with blood-red threads slowly opened, and a beam of white light shot out from within, enveloping the entire field.

A brief silence descended.

Countless people inexplicably stopped their actions, wide-eyed, looking towards the flower.

They trembled all over, their eyes filled with terror, as if they had seen sothing unspeakable.

But this terror did not turn into collapse; instead, it gradually—ignited.

Initially, the soldiers instinctively shouted and roared, trying to dispel the fear in their hearts.

But soon their breathing beca rapid, their eyes began to turn red, their bodies grew hot, their blood felt as if it had been ignited, and fury surged from the deepest part of their souls!

“We are the ones who were abandoned.”

“The Empire cast us aside like weeds, but these monsters make feel power!”

“If this is the will of the flower, I am willing to fight for it!”

Under the breath of that blooming flower, so Imperial soldiers who were severely wounded and on the verge of death suddenly struggled to their feet, clad in charred armor, dragging blood-stained blades, and in stunned gazes, turned and swung their blades at their forr comrades.

“They’re mad! They’re mad!”

“Stop, we are knights of the Empire!”

“His eyes are devoid of sanity—no, sothing has taken it!”

But it was too late.

These fallen ones had ferocious faces and raging fury; they no longer shouted slogans or chanted the glory of the Empire.

They shouted nothing, only slaughtered madly on the battlefield.

As if they wanted to transform all their past sha, fear, and pain into the blood on their blades.

Vines and blood-flowers also began to entwine around their bodies; they directly tore off their Imperial clothes, sewed new ones from beast hides, and joined the legion entwined with blood-flowers and enraged vines.