Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 582: Chapter 348: Alchemy Master

The sea is burning, the firelight breaking through the fog, reflecting on the hull of the Dawn, red like molten metal.

Louis stands before the observation window in the command cabin, quietly watching the sea being torn apart by cannon fire.

After each volley, the recorder beside him bends his head, noting the hit rate, cabin temperature, and armor defense strength.

The writing on the paper grows denser, the scratch of the pen tip drowned out by the deep rumbling.

Without asking, Louis can gauge the results from the frequency of vibrations and the helm speed response: precise firepower, smooth sailing, undistorted armor.

Everything exceeds his expectations; the performance of the Dawn not only matches the design but even surpasses calculated values.

Louis feels a satisfaction rising in his heart; this ship is among the first batch of Red Tide ships, and future designs will only improve with experience.

Beside him, Bernard stares through the observation glass, the fiery sea before him nearly making him forget to breathe.

The Dawn’s cannon fire flickers in the fog, each volley like a thunderclap, shaking the entire sea into a frenzy.

Just within their sight, a pirate vessel is hit by a Magic Explosion Bullet, the whole ship ruptures as if lifted from the inside, tongues of fire leap from the ship’s belly, turning the surrounding seawater dark red.

Planks and silhouettes are thrown into the air, disintegrating in the flames.

Another pirate ship tries to evade, but is hit in the stern by the Dawn’s secondary cannon.

Amidst the flashing explosions, the sea rolls, debris tumbles in the waves.

Bernard can almost hear the wood splintering from afar.

He never imagined that a ship he built could wield such power, like a giant beast awakened, pressing numbingly against his chest.

Bernard subconsciously grips the railing tightly, his throat rolling: “God… its firepower is really… is this really our ship?”

Louis doesn’t answer, only calmly watches the main ship being forced into the encirclement, pointing out some flaws he sees:

“The steering response is two seconds faster than expected; adjust firing rhythm for the next round, see if rapid-fire causes steam pressure imbalance.”

“Yes, my lord.” The recorder swiftly notes it down.

On the other side of the command deck, Eliot is issuing new firing commands.

His voice remains calm, but Louis can hear the tension in it, as if cautiously trying to make everything perfect.

He whispers to Weir: “Don’t let him get too nervous.”

“Understood.” Weir nods and relays the order.

The battle continues for nearly five minutes. Six Dawn-class ships advance in a ring, their fire rhythmically pressuring the pirate fleet.

The pirates’ counterattack shells hit the Dawn’s hull, only scattering sparks without leaving a trace.

Eliot glances back from the command deck, his expression tight.

After a brief hesitation, he walks towards the observation window, lowers his voice: “My lord, shall we proceed with the boarding action?”

Louis doesn’t turn, only watches the rolling sea of fire: “Decide for yourself.”

Eliot pauses, takes a deep breath, turns back to the command deck, orders aloud: “Boarding team, prepare to move!”

As the signal flag rises, the ship vibrates, the boarding bridge is lowered.

The Red Tide Knights cross the iron bridge onto the enemy ship, their shouted commands clear: “Kneel with your heads down! Or face immediate execution!”

A few minutes later, the boarding bridge lowers again, the Red Tide Knights cross the iron bridge onto the enemy ship, their shouted commands clear: “Kneel with your heads down! Or face immediate execution!”

In the fog, firelight flickers, blades shine accordingly.

Eliot stands at the edge of the deck, staring at the main ship’s combat until the last pirate is subdued, then he finally lowers the command flag in his hand, exhales deeply.

“It’s over,” he says softly.

Louis doesn’t immediately respond, only watches the still-smoldering wreck: “Firefighting, salvage, sea lockdown. No remaining boats are permitted to leave.”

“Understood,” Eliot replies.

As the cabin door opens, the wind carries the smell of gunpowder inside.

Louis looks up towards the port, the firelight already illuminates half the sky.

The dock is crowded with people, laborers, guards, and craftsmen.

Most of them have heard rumors of pirates outside the port tonight and secretly sneaked out to watch the excitement.

Louis does not stop them.

In his view, allowing these people to witness the power of the Dawn firsthand is a good thing.

Those who once hammered iron plates, transported timber day and night, now watch their creation burning power across the sea.

Initially, the spectators quietly observed, fearing the fall of Dawn Port.

But when those few black sail ships are shattered and explosive fires roll across the sea, silence is immediately broken.

Someone starts to applaud, others raise their arms, shouting, cheers spread from one end of the dock to the other.

“Long live the Dawn!” “Long live Dawn Port!” “Long live Lord Louis!”

Eliot steps forward, still somewhat tense: “Everything is under control, my lord.”

Louis watches the cheering crowd, his expression calm, but he quietly breathes a sigh of relief internally: “Well done, tonight Dawn Port can sleep peacefully.”

The sea outside the port continues to burn, fog lights flicker, white smoke rises.

The Dawn quietly floats between fire and fog.

On the shore, a young shipwright watches the silhouette of the ship, his eyes shining, murmurs: “The ship we built… can swallow the sea.”

……

Merian is locked in a damp cell, hands and feet shackled in chains, curled in a corner, back against the cold wooden wall.

The walls seep water, the lighting is dim, the air mingles with the scent of alcohol.

Every time the waves hit the hull, the chains lightly sway, as if reminding him, he isn’t dead yet.