Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence Chapter 876 - 470: The Empire’s Fall (2)

"The things left by our ancestors were heavily underestimated by us." She put the piece of foie gras into her mouth, chewed it lightly, then continued speaking.

"But since even Kaelin has become fertilizer, then Louis’s Red Tide Territory in the north... at best, it’s just a harder piece of dry bread."

Her tone was gentle, yet left no room for compromise.

Low laughter sounded around the round table.

Detailed intel came from the front, the Empire Army’s line being erased segment by segment under Mamon’s feet.

The first fortress lost its gate on the seventeenth breath after contact with the magnetic field, the main cannon misfired on the twenty-ninth breath, the fortifications became unstable on the thirty-fourth breath...

"They didn’t even have time to launch an effective counterattack." A director glanced at the timeline, with noticeable impatience in his tone, "From entering the effective range to total dysfunction took on average less than half an hour."

He raised his wine glass, as if confirming a trivial data point.

"The Empire’s way of fighting is too outdated."

"They’re still trying to stabilize their formations, only to become a beautifully arranged platter."

"Raymond’s defection was a surprise gain, a quality managerial talent familiar with the old system and adaptable to current circumstances, low cost of introduction and short return cycle."

"It’s more cost-effective than training new people."

The topic naturally shifted to the next agenda item.

Someone mentioned food pressure, someone mentioned public security issues, as if the entire Empire was already in their pocket.

"Migration of low-end labor." Isabella flipped through the ledger, her tone steady, "If properly guided, it’s enough to fill the mining area’s gaps for the next five to ten years."

The scene switched, the Imperial Capital appearing old and gloomy in the night, contrasting sharply with Crystal Rock City’s lighting.

They began discussing the increasing number of refugees within the Empire’s borders.

"That place is too old." Isabella glanced up, "High maintenance costs, yet the symbolic meaning has long devalued. When Mamon moves past, flatten the foundations, I will personally press the directional blasting button."

Clement took over the conversation: "Demolish the Imperial Palace, and establish the largest magic stone and futures trading center on the continent at the original site. Turn that throne of royal power, which has been sat on for a thousand years, into a counter for merchants to bid."

He paused slightly, with a hint of undisguised pleasure in his tone.

"We want future historians to understand, the end of the August family was brought by a settled account, not the sword of a hero."

Laughter around the round table, this time not restrained.

"For greed."

"For an empire that no longer has inheritance value."

Crystal glasses were raised, the crisp sound of clinking reverberating in the silent conference hall.

Finally, someone casually started a small betting pool on the table, chips being pushed around, numbers constantly changing.

The bet was simple.

How many hours could Louis Calvin withstand in front of Mamon?

In their eyes, this Lord with the largest territory was not an opponent.

"It seems our previous caution was somewhat redundant, we should revise our assessment of Louis. Continuing to treat him as a variable will only slow down our pace."

"Indeed." Clement nodded.

...

The walls of the Imperial Capital glowed pale in the sunset, now devoid of its edge, leaving only heaviness and age.

Raymond stood on the plains outside the city, looking at the stone wall that had stood for a thousand years, somehow feeling an illusion.

It was not as invincible as imagined, more like a piece of wind-dried bone that would shatter with a few taps.

Mamon’s enormous body stretched across the plains, like an entire mountain range lifted off the ground.

As it slowly stood upright, its diamond-structured spine rising into the sky, the sunlight was completely blocked.

The shadow swept over the city walls, swept over the tall towers of the Imperial Palace, and swept over the already ruined square.

This was a confrontation far from equal.

On the walls, the only ones left standing were Kaelin’s son leading a troop of the Royal Guard.

His voice was hoarse, yet he still issued the order to volley.

The crossbow bolts left the strings, but as soon as they flew out, they began to deviate.

Mamon opened its mouth.

It was not a conventional giant mouth, but a cavity composed of polyhedral diamond structures.

Gravity was redefined at that moment, metal on the walls began to emit a deep hum.

The steel crossbows first broke loose from their fixtures, forcibly stripped from the battlements. Then came longswords, long spears, and the heavy armor tightly clasped to bodies.

The garrison even passed away without time for a complete scream.

The armor was pulled and deformed, joints emitting a harsh cracking sound, flesh crushed and stirred within the steel.

People and equipment were dragged away from the walls, torn into indistinguishable shapes in mid-air.

Black iron shavings and blood mist mixed together, sucked into the wide-open mouth.

The city gate of the Imperial Capital lost its shape within a few breaths.

The heavy metal components collapsed like wrinkled paper, instantly.

This ancient capital, which had lasted for a thousand years, completely lost its defenses before making a decent resistance.

In the sky, the Federation’s frontline command platform hovered above the Imperial Capital.

Duke Remont stood at the edge of the platform, looking down at the familiar yet unfamiliar city district below.

His cloak fluttered in the wind, fingers slowly rubbing the ruby ring, the corners of his mouth inadvertently lifted.

"I should have done this long ago." He said, with undisguised satisfaction in his tone, "The August family’s bloodline has long rotted. Clinging to those fake honors will only drag one into the grave."

He turned his head, looking at the Federation’s frontline commander General Batuer beside him: "Gold coins and power are the things that are eternal."

General Batuer held a cigar, its ember flickering in the wind.

"There are quite a few valuable things in this city." He slowly spoke, "Antiques, books, artworks... Tonight all will be sent into the Federation’s warehouse."

He paused there, casually blowing out a puff of smoke: "As for that Louis."

Raymond’s smile instantly faded.

His gaze turned cold, fingers unconsciously tightened, the ruby slightly swayed in the ring.

"The Northern Territory thief, using some sordid tricks, took away the territory and glory that should have belonged to me." Raymond’s voice gradually sharpened.

"Once we’ve digested the Imperial Capital, I will have Mamon march east, flatten his Red Tide Territory, and have him kneel to serve the Federation."

General Batuer chuckled softly.

"High-end alchemy slave." He commented, "Perhaps a decent usage."

Before they could finish speaking, a commotion suddenly arose in the previously orderly marching formation below the platform, with horses simultaneously emitting low-pitched neighs.

Raymond frowned, instinctively holding onto the railing of the platform.

Mamon stopped its actions, the gates of the Imperial Capital where it hovered heavily fell.

The gigantic creature’s previously focused feeding posture was interrupted, it slowly raised its head, its diamond-structured head turning towards a direction outside the Imperial Capital.

There lay the ancient tombs where generations of the Royal Family ancestors rested.

The air changed instantly.

All sounds disappeared simultaneously, even the wind was suppressed, it was a higher order existence descending.

The ground began to tremble.

The mountains outside the Imperial Capital experienced a violent collapse, rock layers torn apart, a dark golden beam of light shot skyward, piercing the clouds.

In the next moment, a dragon roar tore the sky.

"Roar——!!!"

The explosive roar pierced the eardrums, directly striking the depths of the soul, carrying unabashed arrogance and displeasure.

The soundwave swept across.

Federation flags in the air instantly turned to powder, the cigar slipped from General Batuer’s fingers.

Duke Remont felt his legs weaken, his consciousness yet to respond before his body uncontrollably knelt on the platform.

He looked up, face pale.

At the end of that dark golden beam of light, something was slowly opening its eyes.