Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 868: Chapter 467: The Jade Federation’s Trump Card

The second month after the end of the Holy City War, the Jade Federation’s capital, Crystal Rock City, remained brightly lit.

The city resembled a bisected mineral, presenting distinct layers from top to bottom.

The deeper you go, the muddier the color; the higher you rise, the calmer the light.

The top-floor meeting room hovered above the city, like a crystal embedded in the clouds.

The huge floor-to-ceiling windows held the entire Crystal Rock City beneath, permitting only those inside to gaze downward.

Yellow-green toxic mist churned between streets and factory districts, resembling a sea of miasma that would never disperse.

Millions of mine slaves and low-level craftsmen crawled within it, their lungs long eroded by crystal dust and metal scraps, coughing up blood considered just another part of their work.

Scalding pipelines traversed the district, silhouettes climbing, tripping, being dragged away.

Some voluntarily signed organ transfer contracts for a piece of stale bread.

The hiss of leaking steam, the roar of pistons, the wails of the dying, condensed into a low and continuous noise, surging from the depths of the city.

Yet cut off completely before reaching the top floor.

Inside the meeting room, silence prevailed, expensive soundproof barriers kept all noise at bay.

The air passed through multiple layers of alchemical filtration, carrying a fragrance of mint and gold powder, smooth to breathe.

Clement, Speaker of the Bihui Guild, stood by the floor-to-ceiling window.

His deep purple velvet gown fit his form, the primitive magic stone atop his cane refracting cold light.

Lady Isabella of the Silver Plate Guild sat at the other side of the long table.

Black gauze concealed her exquisite face yet failed to hide the unnatural pallor, her hands adorned with gem rings, each sufficient to buy a frontier Kingdom.

Around the round table, other board members had also taken their seats.

Someone used a pure gold knife to slice a still-bloody steak, the motion elegant as though dissecting an art piece;

Someone tasted refined magic stone powder, savoring that brief and costly pleasure with closed eyes. They conversed, chuckled, like diners about to feast.

In the center of the meeting table, a precise mechanical sand table operated smoothly.

Red game pieces represented the Empire, orderly arranged, steadily advancing.

Blue flags symbolized the Jade Federation, retreating step by step.

The intelligence officer stood aside, reporting in a monotone.

“Attention, Board of Directors, the bait plan has achieved its set goals. The Third Mercenary Regiment, five thousand one hundred and twenty-three men, have perished entirely in Sunset Canyon, holding on till the last moment, successfully creating the illusion of a collapsing defense line.”

Clement slightly adjusted his monocle: “How about the pension clause?”

“Circumvented through force majeure and accidental insurance terms.”

“Very good.” Clement nodded slightly, “Died quite cost-effectively, not only held back the Imperial Army but also happened to clean up a few mercenary leaders long in arrears.”

Isabella chuckled lightly, voice gentle yet hollow: “Remember to recover the bodies. The Alchemy Workshop has recently been short on organic fertilizer. Assets must not be wasted.”

The red tin soldiers on the sand table continued their advance.

The intelligence officer turned the page: “Under Kaelin’s command, twenty Knight legions have penetrated the core area, now positioned at the forefront of the feeding zone.”

A moment of subtle change arose in the meeting room, a few directors’ eyes unconsciously brightening.

Isabella closed the ledger, leaning forward slightly: “Such perfect ingredients, the taste of ordinary minerals is too coarse, He has complained for a long time.

Only iron tempered by repeated flames of war, and the blood of heroes filled with anger, unwillingness, and survival instinct, is worthy of the main course.”

She lifted her eyes, smiling graciously: “This is why we don’t use forbidden curses. If it explodes, it won’t be fresh.”

Clement turned around, back facing the rolling toxic mist outside the window, facing the floor beneath.

He placed his palm on his chest, a standard gesture, voice solemn and deep, as if reading from holy scripture:

“Poor Kaelin, he thinks he is conquering a country, unaware that this is a blind pilgrimage.

And he is a diligent worker ant, traversing thousands of miles, carrying the sharpest fangs, the most precious possessions, piece by piece onto His table.

For the Federation’s property, for our immortality, and also for the great Lord of Greed, to have a hearty meal, this is a necessary sacrifice.”

The wine was raised.

Seven crystal goblets at the center of the long table tipped slightly, golden alchemical liquid flowing under the chandelier’s reflection, like tamed sunlight.

“To Greed.”

Glass rims clinked, crisp, pleasing, clean and neat.

That sound echoed within the soundproof barrier, processed to near perfection.

And in the city’s deepest reaches, beyond countless pipes and rock layers, a huge, hungry existence emitted a barely audible swallowing sound.

Music began.

Flowing soothingly and elegantly, classical melodies spread throughout the meeting room, covering the tiny anomaly just now.

Forks and knives descended, entered the tender calf steak, juices seeped out, carrying a bloody hue.

The topic naturally shifted to the future.

They began discussing how to redistribute the Empire’s mining districts and routes after Kaelin’s death, which nobles’ estates were suitable for acquisition, which population could serve as new labor quotas.

Right then, without any warning.

“Buzz——!”

The entire row of crystal screens on the south wall simultaneously emitted an ear-piercing low-frequency hum.

The music was instantly suppressed.

The directors’ movements froze mid-air.

The originally stable flowing green curve completely vanished within a second.