Viscount Fos sneered, "We are the true masters of Snow Peak. We've been managing here for a hundred years, and everyone remembers our benevolence.

As long as we endure this winter, as long as we raise our arms, everything will return to us."

His eyes swept around the room and rested on the faces of some hesitant new nobles.

"A southern kid who snagged his noble title through luck, what does he know about governance? His so-called Baron's Domain... smaller than my family's stable."

Several people couldn't help but laugh, and one added, "I heard that he comes from an illustrious family, but he's just a discarded piece sent to the Northern Territory."

"Just had good fortune, born to the right family, picked up some military merit, and then a Prefect title."

"But luck is something that will eventually run out."

Viscount Fos waved his hand, his tone becoming more relaxed, "I think feigned compliance is the most prudent approach.

We listen to what he says. As for following through? There's plenty of reasons like refugees, military chaos, and bitter cold.

We are local nobility of the Northern Territory, who would dare to truly blame us? The Northern Lords have intermarried for years, we are practically family now.

If he dares to touch us, let's see how many people will turn against him."

All the nobles present nodded, agreeing this was indeed the reasoning.

With the conclusion reached, laughter in the room quickly grew lighter, a sense of triumphant fullness exuded in the air.

"Come, let's toast for the true future masters of Snow Peak!"

They swapped cups and laughter grew increasingly boisterous, entirely unaware of the subtle chill creeping in through the wind outside the house.

Outside the manor, a group of figures quietly lurked.

The leading woman donned a black-feathered cloak, bow and arrow in hand, her expression calm as ice.

Baron Vira crouched, pointing toward the brightly lit mansion in the distance, his voice quivering, "That's it, there are many Northern Lords gathering tonight."

He tried to muster a smile to please the cold-faced woman, "I'm keeping my word, aren't I? Five? There are at least ten inside, all with titles, are you satisfied?"

The woman looked at him indifferently, remained silent, and merely waved her hand lightly.

Several Snow Swearers darted out like phantoms.

At the manor outskirts, only a dozen knights loitered, drinking wine, dozing against the wall.

With only a few muted thuds, several arrows silently pierced throats.

The remaining few hadn't yet reacted before getting strangled unconscious from behind.

"These ones can be used," the woman said softly, "Bring them back, they can be sacrificed, don't waste."

Then in the shadows of the night, dozens of dark figures suddenly leapt out, storming into the banquet hall.

Someone had just raised a glass and got knocked out with a palm strike.

Anyone who dared draw a sword in resistance was slain on the spot, blood splattering on the tablecloths and silverware.

"Enemy attack!!"

"Guards, guards!!"

Screams erupted, chaos reigned in the hall, the nobles fled in a panic.

But they had long been dulled by alcohol, their vigilance relaxed, no one could organize an effective resistance.

A few brave ones tried to charge toward the door, only to be hacked down face-to-face by Snow Swearers as soon as they opened it.

"Leave them alive," the woman reminded again, "Anyone who can be captured alive, take them all."

She walked step by step into the hall, watching the nobles struggling and wailing on the ground, her eyes devoid of sympathy.

"These are the nobles of the Ironblood Empire? Truly ridiculous."

Baron Vira hid behind the leading woman, hunched over like an old dog gasping for air, his mouth unable to hide its upward curve.

"Tsk tsk... blaming me for your downfall."

He watched the terrified, disheveled nobles being dragged out of the hall, each crying, begging, with even their pants wet.

Vira couldn't help but lick his chapped lips, his eyes full of lewd delight.

He had already begun imagining how to rearrange the manor, inventory the treasury, and plan for a few concubines once back at his domain.

Until a cold voice fell, "These people are not enough."

"...Huh?" Vira shivered suddenly, like someone poured a basin of snow water from his head down.

"What—what are you saying?" His voice trembled, and his body involuntarily shrank back.

The leading woman slowly turned to look at him, her gaze like a frozen blade lightly gliding across Vira's neck.

"These people," her voice was cold, "cannot exchange for your life."

The air suddenly froze.

Vira only felt his legs give way, and with a thud, he fell to his knees like an old dog caught by the neck.

"I—I—I can take you to find other nobles! Truly!" He crawled toward the woman, voice trembling with sobs, "I know, I have a list!"

No one responded to him, the Snow Swearers just looked on coldly at this pathetic performance.

"For example... for example, that 'Prefect'!" He lifted his head sharply, his voice rising as if grabbing onto a lifeline, "Louis! Yes, it's that southern kid!

He's the newly appointed Prefect, all the Snow Peak County nobles need to visit him, you can wait for them there!"

The woman squinted slightly, as if finally taking some interest in his words.

She stepped closer, looking down at the man lying on the ground.

"...Are you sure?"

Vira nodded repeatedly, his head turning red from the bumps, "I can lead the way! I know where he lives, I can pretend to visit, I have a domain, I have a reason to approach him!"

"Don't kill me... don't kill me..."

His face was smeared with snot and tears, yet the corners of his mouth still couldn't suppress a distorted smile.

Just give me one more chance, I can sell anyone out...

......

The first ray of morning sunlight shone through the red copper windows into the room.

Louis sat up from the wide yet simple bed, rubbed his forehead, his head still a bit heavy.

Last night was his first night spent in this fortress.

The room wasn't extravagant, but it was far from shabby.

The floor was made of polished oak boards, warm and comfortable underfoot.

A row of low bookshelves stood against the wall, the table held ink and parchment brought from the South, with a silver-inlaid pen stand beside it.

In the middle lay a large animal skin rug from a giant winter bear, grayish-white, soft and silent underfoot.

The fireplace had already gone cold, yet the room remained warm.

Heat rose slowly from stone troughs in the floor and wall corners, driven by hot spring flows, a winter's blessing even the nobles of the Imperial Capital might not enjoy.

Compared to the luxurious bedrooms of the Royal Capital adorned in gold and silver, Red Tide Castle lacked opulence but had stability and attentiveness.

Louis squinted his eyes slightly and murmured, "Not bad at all."

But even with a change in environment, his first morning action remained unchanged.

He yawned and casually activated the "Daily Intelligence System," a translucent screen floated before his eyes, quickly displaying a few lines of text.

[Daily Intelligence Update Complete]

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