Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 747 - 416: Open Fire on the Refugees?

Inside the tower, the fireplace crackled, the warmth slowly spreading through the stone walls, with the cold wind barred by the heavy window frames, leaving only the dull sound of raindrops hitting the glass.

Kael Remont draped in a heavy fur cloak, stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.

He held a glass of red wine in his hand, the deep color of the liquid resembling a slow-flowing layer of blood in the firelight.

He pressed the high-powered binoculars against his eyes, gazing beyond the rain to the Black Stone Gorge several kilometers away.

It was a hellish scene.

The entrance to the gorge was packed airtight, tens of thousands of refugees squeezed into the narrow passage, bodies sticking together, slowly wriggling in the mud.

The torrential rain washed away the filth, with occasional bursts of cries and screams shredded by the wind and rain, reaching here only as a persistent, low hum.

Kael’s lips curled slightly.

In his eyes, it wasn’t chaos, but a highly accomplished piece of work.

The binoculars pushed the view further out.

Outside the Black Stone Gorge, Louis’s steel torrent indeed halted.

Steam battle cars lined up at the mouth of the gorge, their heavy steel outlines faintly visible through the rain, like a pack of beasts forced to a halt.

Faced with that barrier made of flesh, they remained motionless.

Kael put down the binoculars and gently swirled the wine in his glass: “Look, what a perfect defense line.”

His tone carried a hint of satisfaction.

“No need for bricks or stones, just a bunch of useless mouths stopping the sharpest fangs of the Northern Territory.”

A knight stepped forward, handing a hot towel to Kael.

“Young Master…” He paused for a moment, his tone still respectful but deliberately lowered, “Louis is indeed blocked. But… that is, after all, tens of thousands of civilians.”

These words were spoken so lightly, almost drowned out by the crackling of the fireplace.

Kael cast a sideways glance at him.

The knight immediately changed his words, his tone becoming smooth: “Of course, this is precisely subduing the enemy without battle.

If he rolls over them, his reputation will stink. If he stops, these tens of thousands of mouths will soon drag him to death, not to mention our army is returning to aid.”

Kael did not respond, only humming lightly.

Everyone in the tower smiled, though some smiles were unnatural, more like intentional flattery, while also gauging the attitude of those around them.

Several knights exchanged glances, with someone opening their mouth slightly but ultimately swallowing their words, knowing this was not the place to raise questions.

There was an invisible and subtle tension in the air.

Kael seemed to sense it too, but he didn’t care.

He stepped to the map, pointing at the location of Black Stone Gorge, his expression turning serious again.

“According to my analysis of Louis, with his style, he will definitely try to rescue people.” Kael raised his head, his gaze calm and determined.

“Once he starts distributing food, his march will slow tenfold, winter will complete the rest for us, and tens of thousands of Northern Army will either go back home in disgrace or be trapped here.”

Of course, there’s another possibility, Louis rips off his hypocritical mask and rolls over the civilians directly.

For this, Kael had another contingency, though he suspected there was a mole in his decision-making circle, hence only a few people knew, and he couldn’t reveal it.

Outside, the rain grew heavier.

In the distance, Louis’s camp lit up with some scattered lights, appearing vague and indistinct in the night.

Kael assumed it was just the glow of campfires, paying it no mind.

He turned around and raised his glass high: “Everyone, here’s to this damned storm, to these useful refugees, and to forging a path out of desperation!”

“Cheers to the Young Master’s wisdom!”

“Grey Rock Castle is solid as a rock!”

The tower resounded with responses, crystal glasses clinking together, making a crisp sound.

Kael’s glass of red wine had just been raised, the celebratory words still stuck in his throat.

A few kilometers away, a sudden, short and blinding flash lit up the Red Tide camp.

It was the fireworks of heavy artillery leaving the barrel.

In the next moment, a deep and thick roar rolled over following the rain.

Like a colossal entity shoved hard from a distance, the air compressed and then bounced violently.

“Boom—!”

The sound rolled along the ground, repeatedly colliding between the mountain bodies, before belatedly hitting the tower walls.

The window frame gave a slight shake, the wine rippling with small waves in the glass.

Kael’s body suddenly tensed, he almost crashed into the window, grabbing the binoculars.

The torrential rain lashed against the tower’s walls, raindrops bursting on the glass, sliding down the panes in sheets, the view segmented into countless swaying, distorted fragments.

He couldn’t see anything clearly, only the blurred flames flickering in the distant rain, unable to discern where the flames landed.

But this didn’t hinder his judgment, as to Kael, there was always only one answer.

“Did he fire?” His voice carried a hint of loss of control, “Fire at the refugees?!”

Following that, came another roar.

“Boom—!”

Closer than before, and more real.

This time, everyone in the tower clearly felt the stone slabs beneath them quiver slightly.

“Madman…” Kael’s breathing became rapid, but his tone unconsciously heightened.

“He’s actually chosen to blast tens of thousands of civilians to open the way?!”

In this situation, if it were him, he would certainly fire at the refugees.

As long as you press forward, as long as there are dead, the path will open on its own.

So he naturally assumed Louis Calvin would do the same.

However… Kael’s mind raced.

Treasure reputation, win hearts, refrain from slaughter.

All fake?

But just as anger and stupefaction surged, an almost dizzying excitement welled up from deep within.

As long as the first shell landed in the crowd, Louis’s reputation would be ruined.

The righteous Count of the Red Tide?

Hmph, just a thin veneer.

And he couldn’t enter the canyon nor retreat, while he himself held the final switch.

Kael put down the binoculars, a smile on his lips, one that confirmed his hypothesis.

“Watch,” he pointed out the window, his voice echoing in the tower, “this is the true face of that hypocrite.”

His thoughts had already moved beyond the present.

Even if Louis went mad and forcibly advanced at the cost of his reputation—five tons of Fire Demon Explosion Bullets had already been planted.

As soon as the vanguard entered the mid-section, as soon as he pulled the switch.

Tens of thousands, along with that iron torrent, would be buried together in the canyon.

This was all Louis’s fault.

And history of war would not remember civilians, only victory and defeat.

……

“Whoosh——!!”

It was a long, piercing sound of something slicing through the air, like the screech of some metallic beast skimming the night sky.

It was faster than thunder, sharper than the sound of rain.

In the Blackstone Canyon, almost at the same moment, everyone realized one thing: something was falling.

Fear did not spread; it exploded directly.

The crowd suddenly collapsed inward, people instinctively held their heads, someone opened their mouth but couldn’t make a sound, someone was pushed down into the mud, struggled with outstretched hands, soon to be trampled again.

The cries lasted only a moment, then were compressed into intermittent whimpers.

The stampede began…

The mud churned, worn shoes and luggage were trampled into the mire, and those who fell quickly disappeared into the ever-advancing wall of people.

Martha stumbled as the crowd bumped her, clutching her child tightly, pressing the child’s face into her chest.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the Sword of Judgment to fall.

The world seemed muted at this moment, but the expected explosion didn’t erupt nearby.

Those shells trailing orange-red tail flames zipped over the heads of the crowd, so close that it felt like the heat wave lifted their scalps.

The airflow swept away the rain, tearing open a temporary vacuum corridor, as if some force intentionally made way for them.

“Boom——!!”

Not the Magic Explosion Bullet targeting flesh, but the high-explosive Magic Explosion Bullet meant for demolishing fortifications.

Precision hit.

Behind the Grey Rock Battle Commander’s unit, the number 3 mine pit, covered by a camouflage net, was overturned in the firelight.

The shock wave, like an invisible giant hand, shattered the defensive measures with one punch, ripping the camouflage net to shreds.

Bags of flour piled like mountains exploded in an instant, fabric, ropes, and wooden crates hurled into the night sky.

Tons of food were lifted by the shock wave, shooting a hundred meters high.

Burning projectiles ignited them mid-air.

The dust exploded in the heat, illuminating the entire night sky as a massive golden-red fire cloud rolled and expanded above the depression, only to be constantly pummeled by the rain.

Immediately, the unburned grain began to fall.

In the pitch-black rainy night, Blackstone Canyon experienced a bizarre, golden flour rain.

It wasn’t the scene that was truly lethal, but the smell.

The high temperature instantly scorched some of the wheat and ignited the oil seeping from brined meat barrels in the mine pit.

The aroma of toasted wheat, the rich scent of meat, and the greasy scent of heated oil mixed in the explosion’s heat wave.

Riding the northwest wind long calculated, this smell, like an invisible hook, yanked into the canyon.

Drilled into the nostrils of tens of thousands who hadn’t eaten for three days and nights.

The scent of survival!

At the very front of the battle supervision unit, the battle supervision knight with a face full of flesh froze.

The white flour landed on his helmet and shoulder armor, plastering his face.

In that moment, he suddenly awoke.

And the previously numb crowd began to stir.

Countless pairs of eyes glowing green bypassed him, staring fixedly at the burning granary behind.

“Stop!” The Battle Commander waved his long knife, his voice altered by fear, “That’s military rations! Who dares to move!”

“Bang!”

A crisp, decisive explosion answered him.

On the Red Tide’s front, a modified heavy sniper crossbow simultaneously fired.

The upper half of this Battle Commander exploded in the firelight, like a watermelon smashed by a heavy hammer, flesh and armor fragments flying together.

His shout abruptly ceased.

Immediately following, the second, third… explosions sounded in succession.

“Bang!” “Bang!” “Bang!”

The hunters in the forefront of the Red Tide began shooting.

They didn’t shoot the panicked refugees, nor did they chase the fleeing soldiers.

They only targeted those knights still holding swords, attempting to maintain order.

One after another, the battle supervision knights fell in the firelight and rain curtain.

As if an invisible blade was calmly and accurately slicing through the chains binding these refugees one by one.