The night descended, dark clouds pressing on the territory, as if even the air carried a hint of an oppressive weight.

In the depths of the Mage Forest, the ancient tower stood silently at the edge of the woods.

Pale moonlight barely broke through the thick clouds, casting a cold silver sheen over the tower.

At the circular balcony atop the tower, Supreme Mage Oriolan stood with his hands behind his back.

In front of him, a bronze messenger crow lay quietly on the carved stone platform, its eyes dull and lifeless, long since devoid of a twinkle.

It was the messaging tool of his senior brother, Grand Mage Jurgen Locke, which used to regularly deliver his news a few months ago.

Even a few words would suffice to confirm that old friend's safety.

But now, months had passed without a word.

"It's been too long, surely nothing's happened," Oriolan muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with an undeniable heaviness.

He raised his right hand, and with his fingertips, slowly drew a simple circular magic array in the air, a faint blue-white light emerging.

"Come," he called softly.

A moment later, twelve figures in gray robes arrived, kneeling on one knee before him, their silver masks glinting coldly in the magic light.

"Supreme."

Their voices were low and solemn, melding with the night's darkness.

Oriolan raised his hand, and a rough parchment map appeared in the air, marking the contours of the Northern Empire.

"Grand Mage Jurgen Locke has gone silent for months. You twelve will immediately head to the Northern Territory to find where he was last seen."

His voice was calm but carried an almost sacred pressure.

"Yes!"

"Bring back everything... regardless of life or death, you must bring back the truth."

In a flash of light, the twelve silver-faced mages disappeared soundlessly, leaving behind an eerie silence.

......

The morning light filtered through the window, casting fragmented and hazy shadows indoors.

The revelry of yesterday faded away, with the air still retaining the warmth of last night, so quiet you could almost hear each other's breathing.

Louis slowly opened his eyes, instinctively glancing to his side.

Sif was curled up in his arms, her silver-white hair scattered messily on the pillow, her pale cheeks showing a hint of fatigue, her breathing steady and soft.

His gaze paused slightly, noticing on that sleeping face, a tear still present at the corner of her eye.

Louis gently lifted his fingertips and softly wiped away that tear.

"You've had it hard," he whispered, turning to sit up, skillfully lifting his hand.

A semi-transparent light curtain emerged with a buzz in front of him, emitting an ice-blue glow.

[Daily Intelligence Update Completed]

[1: Supreme Mage Oriolan Sol has dispatched 12 silver-faced mages to investigate the Northern Territory of the Ironblood Empire due to concerns over the disappearance of his friend, Grand Mage Jurgen Locke.]

[2: A large migration of two-headed bears is expected in seven days.]

[3: Mountain snow is melting faster, glacial streams surging, flooding Canglu Territory's settlement areas.]

"Oriolan Sol?" Louis raised an eyebrow at the first item.

He hadn't heard of this name, but the title "Supreme Mage" was not something to be taken lightly.

Someone with such a title should not be an ordinary person.

However, Grand Mage Locke... he was all too familiar with.

That old man who collapsed before him, forcing out an energy wave before dying, embedding fragmented memories and that Primordial Meditation Technique into his mind...

Louis had no acquaintance with any mages, no guidance, unaware of his progress whether fast or slow.

The entire practice felt like groping in the dark, with only the fragmented memories left by the deceased old mage as his crutch.

"Perhaps these twelve silver-faced mages could give me a chance to truly touch the world of magic."

Yet Louis had no intention of casually mentioning the matter of Loken's death.

It wasn't that he distrusted others, but instinctively felt that knowing too much, saying too early, might spoil things.

He decided to hold off for now and wait until he could meet real mages to assess the situation.

He turned his eyes to the second item, a slight smile on his lips: "Two-headed bear migration... intelligence on resources, huh."

These two-headed bears, frankly speaking, were the "strategic-grade livestock" of a low magic world.

Low in magic content, but relatively docile in temperament, likely trainable with the Frost Leaf Vine he cultivated.

The meat of the two-headed bear contained a bit of magic power, not only delicious but also slightly beneficial for strengthening, making it an excellent dietary supplement for knights.

There might even be a chance to turn it into a product chain, selling it to other territories for resources.

Setting up a "Red Tide Brand Magical Beast Jerky" doesn't sound too bad either.

He had already begun planning in his mind: setting up an enclosure, training, cutting, curing, smoking.

But that was still seven days away, so he silently noted this intelligence and moved on to the other updates.

As for the third item, it was a typical warning-type intelligence.

Glacial streams surging, flooding imminent.

"This small matter won't require my personal attention."

He donned an outer robe, wrote a brief and clear letter instructing the local officials of Canglu Territory:

Strengthen the dikes, urgently evacuate the population;

If lacking in timber and craftsmen, support can be provided locally;

Divert waters if necessary, to protect farmlands and cottages.

After sealing the letter, he went to the window, summoned a Gale Bird, attached the envelope, and let it fly away.

The feathered figure soared into the sky.

"Done." He stretched, setting aside all miscellaneous thoughts for now.

With seven days until the two-headed bears' appearance, the priority now was the spring planting.

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