Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 610: Chapter 360: Blood-Red Fireworks (Part 1)

In the distance, the sound of rooftiles crashing filled the air as flames lit up the street corner—barbarians were spreading oil and setting fires to cause chaos.

Astha’s face was deathly pale, and he collapsed into the main seat.

The wine in his cup spilled onto his boots, resembling a pool of blood.

The nobles rose in panic, chairs overturned, silver plates clattered to the ground, the sound of impacts intertwining with screams forming a chaotic symphony.

Some shouted to escape, some rushed to the door but were blocked by the guards’ spears.

“Calm down!” Sai Fu shouted, drawing his sword, as fighting energy gleamed golden on his body.

The light drew an arc in the hall, forcibly dampening the rampant panic.

At this moment, the estate’s defenses were sparse, each noble only bringing one personal guard, totaling just over thirty—in truth, the real defense was Astha’s hundred knights.

They hastily gathered in the outer court, their fighting energy shimmering in the night, with gold, silver, and occasionally a trace of pale blue, interwoven like burning stars.

The fireworks continued to explode overhead, masking the screams and the clash of steel on the ground.

Meanwhile, the barbarians’ roars were closing in from the north garden.

A deep and tearing beast roar, accompanied by deafening shockwaves.

Leading the charge was Carl’s assault team.

Every barbarian warrior’s fighting energy was a dark blue, like a frozen cold night, yet in their rage, it transformed into blazing torrents.

They shattered the stone gate of the garden and charged into the estate’s outer corridor.

Two knights from Frost Dragon Territory faced them head-on, barely raising their swords before being engulfed by the blue light, an axe blade tearing through the air with a heavy thud, and two heads flew off.

At that moment, the fireworks in the sky bloomed, sparks raining down like golden rain, intermingling with the mingled light of blood and flames.

“Stop them!” Sai Fu roared, swinging his sword to meet the enemy.

Several gold-glowing Imperial Knights leapt forward, their fighting energy clashing fiercely.

Gold and blue lights interlaced, the shockwaves flipping tables and chairs, splinters and blood sprayed simultaneously.

The explosions overhead repeatedly drowned out the screams, as if contrasting two grand feasts—one in the heavens, one on earth.

Above was the nobles’ celebration, below was the revelry of death.

After a brief skirmish, the barbarians advanced again.

The deep blue flow like a surging tide, turning everything it passed into a sea of blood.

Even if there were screams, they were all drowned out by the blasts of fireworks, becoming silent routs.

Camille’s face turned livid as the wine cup slipped from his hand, the liquid splattering on the ground, spreading like bloodstains.

He hid in a corner, looking around, only seeing nobles fleeing, and servants lying in pools of blood…

Astha sat stunned in the main seat, his lips colorless, countless questions flashing chaotically through his mind:

Why? How did the barbarians appear here? How did they get in? Who leaked the city gate?

His heartbeat was chaotic like drums, thoughts scattered into a blank void.

“This… impossible… this is my estate… my Northern Territory…” he murmured in disbelief, his eyes filled with fear and incredulity.

But the continuous shouts reminded him, he had awakened from a dream.

Carl was already in a killing frenzy, his axe blade soaked in blood and fire, his laughter echoing among the flames and screams.

With each slash, sparks and blood mist accompanied it, like dancing in a burning hell.

The fireworks illuminated his blood-covered face from above.

Turning around, he casually split a fleeing knight in two with an axe, hot blood splashing on his face, but instead, he showed an almost intoxicated expression.

Suddenly, his gaze was drawn to a figure at the end of the crowd.

The person stood quietly, face calm, the surrounding chaos seemingly irrelevant to him.

Black hair shimmered cold under the firelight, his figure tall and composed.

Carl squinted, a chill creeping up his spine to his head. He recognized him immediately; it was the man Wulu had shown him a portrait of.

He immediately identified Louis, from the image Wulu had shown him.

“That guy! It’s him! The Lord of Red Tide!” Carl roared, his voice thunderous, piercing through the chaos.

He motioned with a wave, leading four transcendent fighting energy-barbarian warriors toward Louis.

The deep blue fighting energy on those four almost materialized, the stone slabs beneath their feet shattered, their charging shockwave caught fire, cascading down the corridor toward him.