Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence Chapter 744 - 414: Battlefield Intelligence (2)

The moment that deep-seated fear receded, replaced momentarily by gnawing hunger, the entire situation was poised to descend into utter pandemonium.

Slowly, Louis’s eyelids fluttered open.

Outside the carriage, the tempest raged relentlessly, and in the distance, Gray Rock Castle was but a faint silhouette against the downpour.

A daring, yet meticulously crafted plan began to crystallize within his mind.

It was neither a reckless gamble nor something reliant on a stroke of luck.

A single, precise incision, exploiting the very opening Kael himself had created, was all that was needed to bring everything down steadily.

He turned his head, directing his gaze toward the Knight escorting the carriage, who maintained a consistent proximity: "Weir."

Weir promptly steered his mount closer, bowing his head slightly to respond, "My lord."

"Summon Thomas to my presence," Louis stated with calm resolve, "at once."

Without further inquiry, Weir gave a curt nod, wheeled his horse around, and galloped back through the sheeting rain towards the rear of their procession.

......

The ferocious winds, unleashing rain that struck like hardened pellets, hammered against the sheer rock face.

Water streamed down the cracks and fissures, resembling uncontrolled torrents, coating the entirety of the cliff in a slick, frigid sheen.

Visibility plummeted to less than five meters, and the thunder’s sonorous boom reverberated through the canyon, drowning out any faint sounds with its overwhelming roar.

Thomas clung precariously to the rock wall, his fingertips gripping a jutting ledge with fierce tenacity.

Droplets of rain seeped into the corners of his goggles, trickling into his eyes, only to be forcefully blinked away. He kept his head bowed, steadily regulating his breathing against the cold stone, bringing his racing heart back to a controlled cadence.

This formidable weather, paradoxically, brought him a sense of calm.

His Lord’s intelligence was never flawed, and the present deluge served to validate those earlier, dispassionate assessments one by one.

Under these damp conditions, the carefully concocted alchemical fuses would perform like sodden matchsticks.

Forget about initiating a stable explosion; merely provoking a reaction would prove exceptionally difficult.

Should Kael truly intend to detonate those five tons of Fire Demon Explosion Bullets, his only recourse would be to employ the most rudimentary methods: brute force, ropes, and sheer willpower.

Contemplating this, the corner of Thomas’s mouth twitched, nearly forming an inappropriate smirk, though he swiftly suppressed it.

Thomas was not undertaking this perilous task in isolation.

The approximately twenty individuals scaling the treacherous cliff face were all members of the elite White Night Knights.

This was a specialized unit, personally established by Lord Louis himself.

Unmarked by any unit designation and entirely separate from any conventional Knight Order.

Their singular purpose was to execute missions where failure was simply not an option.

Each recruit was meticulously selected from the most accomplished warriors across various knightly divisions under the Red Tide banner, with even the least experienced member possessing combat capabilities surpassing that of an Extraordinary Knight.

Thomas held the rank of Captain within this distinguished squad.

Beyond mere explosive power or Fighting Energy prowess, his true strength lay in his uncanny ability to gauge timing, navigate complex predicaments, and achieve mission objectives with unparalleled speed.

Presently, they were scattered across the rock face, appearing without discernible formation, yet maintaining precise spacing between each individual.

Their lightweight armor, sodden from the rain, clung tightly to their forms. All metallic fastenings were meticulously covered with leather, and even their breaths were intentionally kept to a whisper.

No Fighting Energy was overtly displayed, not due to any inability, but out of extreme caution.

At this close proximity, even the slightest excess fluctuation of power could be detected, akin to a stray spark in the darkness.

The White Night Squad ascended along a seldom-used trail, once frequented by herb gatherers.

This path, known only to a select few mountain villagers, was now all but obliterated by the relentless downpour.

Nevertheless, the White Night Knights navigated it as if etching it into their very beings; each movement of their hands, each shift of their feet, was an instinctive action honed through countless rigorous drills.

They moved like a phalanx of geckos, impossibly clinging to the sheer precipice.

After an indeterminate period, the steep incline of the rock wall finally began to ease.

Thomas raised his hand in a signal, and every operative froze in unison.

He cautiously extended half of his upper body over the cliff’s edge, instantly lowering his center of gravity and flattening himself against the cold, damp rock surface.

The rain here was more intense, accompanied by a greater cacophony.

He peered upward, spotting Kael’s hastily erected sentry post, its lights blazing defiantly in the distance.

However, their objective lay not there; Thomas’s gaze gradually shifted towards the left.

Approximately a kilometer away, shrouded in the gloom, a colossal rock formation jutted outwards like the hooked beak of a predatory bird, anchored firmly to the cliff's edge – this was known as Eagle’s Beak Rock.

Situated directly beneath this formidable overhang, a faint, steady alchemical luminescence pierced through the rain, manifesting as intermittent, diffused glows.

Thomas narrowed his eyes, pressing himself lower to gain a clearer vantage point.

It was a robust winch, constructed from heavy black iron and secured immovably to the base of the rock formation.

The winch’s design was unrefined yet undeniably sturdy, with several thick steel cables wound around its central drum. Their surfaces were well-greased, ensuring that rainwater would merelylide off without penetrating.

These steel cables cascaded downwards like an intricate web, vanishing into the deep fissures that lay beneath the cliff face.

Without even needing to see, Thomas already knew what awaited them at the end. Five tons of Fire Demon Explosion Bullets. Five Death Warriors from Gray Rock stood guard over the winch, spaced out with unnatural stillness, making no unnecessary movements. Like statues fixed to the earth, their only adjustments were subtle shifts in balance against the relentless wind. Thomas quickly identified that they were not Extraordinary Knights within his mind. Certainly, such a task demanded no such power, merely the pressing of a lever at the very last moment. It would indeed be a waste to employ an Extraordinary Knight just for detonation.

His attention eventually settled on one of them. This knight stood directly beside the winch, his right hand already gripping the safety pin, yet his stance was unwavering, showing no hint of tremor. The moment he pushed down, the winch would release, the massive sledgehammer would descend, and the primer would ignite, consequently blasting the entire canyon sky-high.

Thomas drew a slow breath. Raindrops slid from his chin, hitting the rock face only to be immediately consumed by the wind. He raised his hand, giving a short, precise signal behind him. The White Night Squad’s actions halted instantly and silently. Every member awaited his next command. Then, under the persistent rain, Thomas raised his hand once more, relaying several brief, clear gestures. The directive was clear: disregard the others, focus solely on eliminating the winch operator. The kill must be instantaneous, offering him absolutely no chance to activate the safety pin. His gestures, fleeting in the darkness, were nonetheless perfectly perceived by each White Night Knight. In response, twenty silhouettes swiftly signaled back, subtly adjusting their positions and angles, each locking onto their designated target. Their breathing was minimized, their Fighting Energy kept dormant, concealed entirely, allowing them to mel Kael with the stormy night. Only their calm, focused gazes were visible.

At this critical juncture, the heavens above began to churn violently. A startling flash of lightning ripped through the night, bathing Eagle’s Beak Rock and the imposing black iron winch in an eerie, white light. In its wake, deep thunder rumbled within the clouds, its power steadily amassing. Thomas recognized this as the opportune moment, counting silently in his head: Three, two, one. "Boom——!!!" The thunder detonated directly overhead the canyon.

The instant the thunder’s roar overwhelmed all other sounds, Thomas moved. His Fighting Energy erupted forth, and his form became a streak of pale blue afterimage. Utilizing the thunder as cover for the splash of muddy water underfoot, he traversed dozens of meters in mere moments. The Death Warrior positioned at the winch seemed to register a premonition amidst the lightning’s flash, instinctively turning his head. However, his reaction was a fraction too late. "Choke." A dagger thrust upward, piercing directly through his palm. This action pinned the hand that clutched the safety pin firmly against the wooden lever of the winch. Before his scream could even begin, another flash of cold steel sliced through the air. The blade cut through the rain, precisely striking his throat. The downpour quickly washed away the spilled blood as the knight’s body slumped forward, falling heavily onto the winch, forever silenced. Almost simultaneously, the other four Death Warriors from Gray Rock were also engaged.

Brief flashes of blades flickered between the lightning and the rain. There were no shouts, no sounds of combat. Four bodies collapsed in succession within the storm, landing softly on the rocky ground, utterly unable to issue any alarm. These Elite Knights, it turned out, were no match for an Extraordinary Knight, falling within a single engagement. The immediate crisis was averted. Thomas delivered a kick to the corpse, moving it away from the winch, his gaze now fixed on the taut steel cables. This represented Kael’s most potent weapon and, simultaneously, his most treacherous stratagem. He withdrew the alchemy hydraulic scissors from his waist and clamped them onto the main cable. "Snap." The first steel cable severed. "Snap." The second followed suit. "Snap." The third. The now slack steel cables snapped sharply, swiftly retracting like extinguished vipers into the darkness below the cliff. The five-ton Fire Demon Explosion Bullet, fully capable of annihilating everything, had been rendered utterly incapable of detonation.

Thomas sheathed his tool and cast his gaze upward towards the sky. The thunderstorm showed no signs of abating. Thomas stood poised at the precipice of Eagle’s Beak Rock, allowing the torrential rain to cleanse his armor of both sweat and the fresh bloodstains. He peered down into the abyss-like canyon below. There, tens of thousands of refugees were huddled together within the narrow passage, trembling from hunger and fear. And much farther away, Kael waited expectantly, poised to press a button... a button that no longer existed.