Rise of the Northern Warlord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Vaerik led everyone into the magical marrow factory, immediately hit by pungent alchemical odors.

He raised his hand in greeting: "Good morning."

In the corner, Hilco, sporting heavy dark circles under his eyes, listlessly raised his head to glance at the detestable slave master.

"My lord, good morning." His voice carried a trace of complaint as he casually handed over a fist-sized crude ceramic jar.

Vaerik took the heavy jar. Its surface looked plain and simple, with a linen cloth strip inserted at the mouth—appearing crude as if randomly shaped.

He frowned: "Just this?"

Hilco lazily explained: "Don’t judge by its ordinary appearance—inside are all dangerous materials.

Magical marrow, ice-armored bear crystal fragments, tinder grass—all packed in.

The power is considerable. Of course, given more time, I could make it more refined with stronger power."

"Since you say so, let’s test one," Vaerik raised an eyebrow, looking toward the prepared experimental field.

Several magical beasts were bound throughout the area, struggling and making uneasy roars.

Knights donned specially made protective masks, lit fuses, and threw the flame bomb.

The ceramic jar rotated in the air, tracing an arc, accurately smashing into the experimental field’s center.

BOOM!!

First Phase: Cold Blast!

The moment the flame bomb exploded, blue light flashed as ice-armored bear crystals shattered, releasing extreme cold currents!

Air suddenly contracted as if the entire space was violently yanked by an invisible hand.

Several magical beasts’ fur instantly frosted, limbs convulsing and shrinking.

Then they were actually dragged toward the explosion core by that intense suction!

They let out piercing wails, hooves clawing wildly at the ground, but powerless to break free.

Second Phase: Fire Blast!

Just as they were about to escape the cold current’s restraints, the next wave of disaster arrived.

Magical marrow suddenly ignited, violent flames bursting forth.

Tinder grass fluff seemed catalyzed by some invisible force, madly devouring oxygen in the air!

Flames flowed like liquid, tightly adhering to the magical beasts, spreading along their fur.

Like bloodthirsty venomous snakes drilling into every skin crevice, madly gnawing flesh and blood.

"AWOOOO—!!"

One magical beast’s eyes were burned by flames, instantly exploding. Body fluids evaporated into wisps of white smoke, and the hot breath from mouth and nose also instantly became dry dust.

The air filled with acrid burning stench, making one want to vomit.

Third Phase: Toxic Corrosion!

Black smoke slowly rose.

This wasn’t ordinary embers, but toxic gas released by burning magical marrow!

The first affected magical beast suddenly convulsed, limbs wildly spasming, throat producing squeezed wailing sounds.

Flesh at wounds began rapidly festering, as if torn open by invisible hands, exposing white bones.

They struggled, roared, rolled, finally—

Silence.

Ashes scattered, the air filled with thick sulfur and acrid rotting stench, lingering long.

The scene was already devastated, charred remains embedded in soil.

Even the earth was burned to deep brown, faintly glowing—this land seemed infected by death.

Vaerik stood in place, quietly observing this devastation, speechless for a long time.

Siv’s face was pale, unable to help clenching her fists.

She had seen fighting, seen bloodshed, even personally been on battlefields.

But she had never seen such slaughter.

Silent and soundless, yet completely stripping away all vitality.

Hilco showed a strange expression—part pride, part heartache.

He blinked his bloodshot eyes, rubbed his sore neck from staying up late, and sighed:

"This power is indeed good... but my lord, the material cost for this one bomb is a full four hundred gold coins."

He looked toward that scorched earth as if watching a pile of burning golden coins, heartbroken beyond measure, as if it were his own money being spent.

Hearing this, Vaerik finally came to his senses, turning to ask: "How many are currently in stock?"

"Seven." Hilco sighed. "More and we’d have no materials. After all, you only brought so much ice-armored bear crystal."

"What about the name?"

"Haven’t thought of one yet."

Vaerik surveyed that dead land, his gaze sweeping over the still-burning black embers, lips slightly curving upward.

"Let’s call it ’Ice and Fire.’"

Hilco nodded, feeling this name was quite fitting.

Vaerik reached out to lightly pat the bomb’s crude ceramic jar.

This weapon was his final trump card.

...

Earl Foss sat in his manor’s luxurious chair, fingers unconsciously rubbing his thick chin, his face full of anxiety.

"Damn garbage! Commanding bandit suppression... what do I know about these things!"

He was obviously quite frightened by this sudden mission.

Inheriting his title from his father less than two years ago, and now organizing Snow Swearers elimination?

What a joke?

The fierce name of Snow Swearers was something he often heard.

His father, the previous Earl Foss, was a distinguished Northern Province general who ruled Snow Peak Prefecture for decades, making northern tribes flee in terror at his reputation.

But himself?

Just a fat man forced to inherit a title, who couldn’t even ride horses steadily, let alone lead troops in battle!

"Lord Earl, this might not be a bad opportunity."

The speaker was his strategist, a man whose face was full of calculations.

"Think about it—eliminating Snow Swearers is Duke Edmund’s order. All Northern Province nobles must respond, especially those pioneering nobles from the south."

Earl Foss frowned: "What do you mean?"

The strategist leaned closer: "You can directly send them to their deaths.

These southern nobles are inherently weak and unstable.

This Snow Swearers elimination operation carries extreme risks. As long as arrangements are proper, assign them the most dangerous tasks, wear down their forces.

After they suffer heavy losses, you can then use your earl status to absorb their territories and resources. Why not?"

Earl Foss widened his eyes—this could be done?

The strategist continued adding fuel to the fire: "Moreover, you know that established Northern Province nobles have no good feelings toward these southerners.

If the southerners are completely annihilated, the Northern Province will completely return to true northerners’ hands.

And those who look down on you, those who think you only inherited through nepotism and lack ability to govern Snow Peak Prefecture—what will they think? freёnovelkiss.com

They can only admit they misjudged you—that you are Snow Peak Prefecture’s true ruler!"

Earl Foss was silent for several seconds.

Then his face showed a sinister smile.

"Makes sense."

He raised his wine cup, gently swirling the liquid inside.

Already picturing in his mind those southern nobles being swallowed by ice and snow, and himself being revered by thousands.

"Good, then let’s do as you say."