Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence Chapter 709 - 398: Quagmire (Part 2)

Any seasoned general would instantly spot this location as an ideal ambush site.

Ackman burst into laughter, having anticipated Louis's tactic long beforehand.

Gazing at the deathly quiet snowfield, his eyes flashed with a predator's icy stare: "Louis Calvin, did you think I would step into your magic burst trap? Using those explosive alchemy toys, who can you kill?"

The Black Steel Knights of the Seventeenth Legion stood behind him, three thousand heavy knights in full armor resembling an oncoming iron-gray tidal wave.

Snowflakes landed on their armor only to vaporize immediately into white vapor from fighting energy.

"All troops, obey my order! Slave cavalry, charge forward!" Ackman cracked his whip sharply.

A hundred light cavalry from the Barbarian Race surged into the pass like feral hounds set loose, bellowing fiercely.

Moments later...

"Boom! Boom, boom!"

Packed snow erupted violently, blending flames and bloody mist, hurling more than a dozen Barbarian Race riders along with their mounts skyward.

Yet the blast ended abruptly, without any chain explosions or massive detonation to unsettle Ackman.

Ackman sneered with chill disdain: "As expected, a minefield... yet its strength falls short. It won't kill heavy cavalry."

Without pause, he commanded: "Disperse formation! Knights, maintain five-meter gaps! Proceed in squads!"

At the horn's blare, the three thousand Black Knights fanned out into a net-shaped advance, thinly spaced yet radiating invincible destructive force, surging into the pass.

Nearly the entire force had entered the targeted zone.

...But no further blasts erupted.

From the birch pass's end, atop Frost Halberd City's north wall, Louis lifted his hand distantly, like conducting a refined ritual's start.

The ground then rumbled with a heartbeat-thundering roar.

"Buzz—Boom!!"

No dazzling flames, no hurtling shrapnel. Just a nerve-paralyzing quake from far below the earth.

Ackman's black-scaled warhorse plunged downward abruptly.

Though quick to respond, he gaped in shock: "This... isn’t an explosion?"

It wasn't a standard explosive minefield; instead, a magic burst device planted five meters underground—deep oscillation magic burst.

The shock first cracked the frozen earth, then churned subsurface waters, liquefying the rock-solid base in a flash.

The snowfield caved in without warning.

The full 300-meter-wide channel morphed into a quagmire inferno in seconds.

Hooves sank first; the harder they thrashed, the further they submerged.

Heavy armor and knights alike got engulfed halfway by the thick sludge.

No fatalities, no wounds, yet the whole army stood frozen in place.

Ackman's eyes shrank to pinpoints; fury rose but stuck in his throat: "This kid... didn’t plan to blast me. He wants to trap me alive like cattle?!"

Mud surged relentlessly; knights tumbled off mounts, splashing into filth one after another, flailing to rise, but even unsheathing blades proved clumsy. Chains, armor, barding—all turned into shackles.

"Legion Commander! We’re... stuck!"

"The rear has crashed into us! Formation's compressing!"

Those three thousand Black Knights, once spread wide like a snare, now crammed by the landscape into a tight "meat corridor".

Front halted, rear slammed in, sides mired, packed dense as canned fish.

Ackman bellowed in rage, fighting energy erupting to shove mud aside as he vaulted back onto his steed.

"Everyone, get up! Push forward! Escape this mire, and triumph is ours!"

Spurred by Ackman's frenzied bellows and iron will, the heavy cavalry wrenched their legs free from the muck.

Some ditched their horses, others lurched ahead unsteadily.

At last, through grueling effort, they escaped the sludge, with merely 800 meters left to Frost Halberd City's walls.

Ackman ignored it all completely.

To him, the mud posed merely a fleeting hindrance; a thrilled grin even crept onto his face as he yelled: "See that?! Traps can't halt us! Break through, and we claim victory!"

Ackman spared no glance for the formation's ruin, locking his stare on the apparently passable flat stretch before them, spurring his warhorse hard and splashing through mud as he led the charge.

Trailing him, the battered legion—torn by mud, compacted into a hulking mass—pressed on, compelled to match his pace.

They figured their drive endured, convinced a continued rush would batter down Frost Halberd City's gates.

From the wall, Louis observed their ridiculous progress with serene poise, lips curving subtly upward.

Louis had never meant to slay them via traps.

His goal was dismantling their battle fervor, robbing the Seventeenth Legion of its essence as a force, shattering their dauntless charge.

Make them forfeit their right to battle long before they reach the walls, serving as the opening to the magnificent banquet ahead.

......

The flank highland of Birch Pass.

Harsh winds rage here, but it provides the ideal vantage point surveying the full pass.

Snowflakes danced wildly in the biting gale, tapping faint yet insistent rhythms against the armor of the two concealed Knight Orders hunkered behind snow-covered ridges.

Felan, commander of the Cold Iron Knight Order, positioned himself at the front, his form resembling forged cold iron.

His massive black armor devoured the light amid the blizzard, revealing merely a rigid silhouette.

He stayed mute, fixing his gaze on the pass beneath, now transformed into a muddy quagmire.

Oser, head of the Silver Fang Knight Order, lingered a half-step back, his silver-gray light armor clinking softly in the gusts.

In contrast to Felan’s unyielding calm, Oser’s tension was palpable.

Through his spyglass, he watched Ackman’s heavy cavalry floundering clumsily in the muck, tumbling like a scene from doomsday.

"Felan! Look down there!" Oser growled uncontrollably, his hand clenched on the sword hilt. "Ackman’s ranks are in chaos! Completely shattered! This is our golden chance!"

He gestured toward the imposing Frost Halberd City in the distance, his tone hushed but brimming with haste:

"If they break free, the walls will take the full brunt! Civilians will fall into terror! The Silver Fang Knight Order’s mission is to protect Frost Halberd City! We charge now and tear them apart from the flank!"

Felan lifted his hand, forming an unbreakable barrier against Oser. His voice firm as stone: "The Lord’s red signal flare hasn’t appeared. No command, no movement from the Cold Iron Order."

"You’re too rigidly loyal!" Oser’s fury erupted; he brushed aside Felan’s arm, compelling nearby Cold Iron Knights to advance partially.

"Louis is just temporarily holding military authority! Frost Halberd City is Master Isaac’s stronghold! If his delay lets the city fall, how will you and I answer to the old Duke in the afterlife?!"

Grinding his teeth, he snarled in rage: "What’s that kid thinking? Battle shifts in moments, yet he plans to clash head-on with heavy cavalry across the open field? Does he see war as a game?!"

Felan turned his head deliberately, his eyes—tearful once before the Duke’s spirit—now sharp as a knife’s edge: "Oser, recall my oath at the spirit hall?"

Each word rang clear and resolute: "We swore to uphold his vision without shame. The Duke bestowed command upon Lord Louis, so his directives embody the Duke’s intent.

You’ve been too distant from Lord Louis. You’ve witnessed only his mildness in Frost Halberd City, not how he wrought miracles from desperation at Red Tide. He grasps better than we do the path to secure Master Isaac’s legacy."

Oser opened his mouth to argue, but faltered just as the words formed.

For the ground... began to quake.

It started as a faint vibration, building steadily, like some enormous beast stirring beneath the earth.

Felan tilted his chin toward Frost Halberd City: "Do you believe Lord Louis arranged this merely to bog them in mud?"

"Listen."

Oser held his breath. Through the howling winds, a profound, guttural rumble swelled—unfamiliar, akin to the pulse of a ironclad beast.

Thump—thump—thump—

That force outmatched the thunder of countless warhorses, dislodging snow from the ridges.

Oser’s eyes widened: "This... what could it be?"

Felan’s tone sliced like ice: "A beast from the Red Tide."

Borne on the wind came the hiss of mechanical pistons breathing, the bellow of steam-forged steel.

The noise grew louder, fiercer by the second.

Atop the snow ridge highland, knights of both orders straightened instinctively.

The might of a dawning age was poised to unleash itself.