Louis sat cross‑legged, focusing on his breathing. The Tidal Breathing Technique flowed naturally within him. "Exhale… inhale." Each deep breath echoed in his chest like ocean tides—steady, rhythmic, powerful. The warm energy from the Northern Crystal Cod pulsed through him, refined by his technique.
The Tidal Breathing Technique was the Calvin family's ancestral method. It channeled blood like ocean tides—surging outward with power, then retreating to restore balance. As Louis practiced, he felt his blood flow accelerate, his meridians smooth, and his bones warm, as if being reforged.
Finally, he exhaled and calmed his breathing. He had advanced. He was now a Mid‑Tier Official Knight. For his age, this was a rare feat—genius-level among ordinary people. But within Duke Calvin's lineage, Louis was still seen as the underachiever—his older brother already a Peak Knight with prestigious military achievements revered by the Empire.
In this world, a knight's strength sprang from their awakened bloodline. Only those gifted in heritage could unlock true knightly power. The journey followed six ranks: Apprentice Knight, Official Knight, Elite Knight, Transcendent Knight, Peak Knight, and Legendary Knight—each a monumental leap in strength.
Still, Louis felt calm. With the Daily Intelligence System, opportunities would come. He halted the technique and opened his eyes.
Around him, the Knights gazed with newfound respect. Then a roar erupted across camp: "Long live Lord Louis!"
Their cheers told him what he needed—his authority had been claimed. Their loyalty secured, at least for now.
When the cheering subsided, Louis turned to Lambert beside him. "How far to Frost Halberd City?"
"About two hundred kilometers," Lambert answered.
"Then five or six days of travel." Louis nodded, then issued a swift order: "Push faster. Let's arrive by the afternoon in three days."
Lambert bowed. "Understood, my lord."
Normally, such a pace in the icy wasteland would be reckless. But morale had soared. His Knights, filled with adrenaline and belief, could march relentlessly.
Frost Halberd City was the Northern Province's capital—the hub of military might and political intrigue. Louis's chief mission here: claim his pioneering territory. Sooner he arrived, greater his prestige and reward.
More urgently, three intelligence updates flashed in his head:
In three days, Weil—the future Peak Knight—will be brought to Frost Halberd City's black market by a slave merchant.
In three days, Silco, an Alchemist Apprentice wanted by the Gold Marrow Guild for stealing a secret formula, will disguise himself as a slave and be sold there.
Duke Edmund is furious because noble families are shipping their useless sons northward.
The first intel hit Louis like a thunderbolt. Peak Knights were Tier 1 fighters—military commanders and pillars of the kingdom. Even a talent approaching that level was a treasure. Securing Weil meant investing in a future legend.
The second alert stirred another plan. Alchemists were akin to powerful magical engineers—capable of crafting potent artifacts and turning simple materials into treasures. The Calvin family itself counted only three official Alchemists. Apprentices like Silco were rare and precious.
Louis's strategy was clear: purchase Silco as a slave, observe him discreetly, and if he proved valuable, bring him into his service. The cost would be trivial compared to the potential payoff.
The third alert? Not surprising. Even without the system, Louis would have guessed it. Duke Edmund, the provincial governor, was seething at the Empire's scheme—letting noble scions march north to stake new lands. Good-for-nothings, mind you.
The north had nearly rebelled two years ago. Rebels almost seized Frost Halberd City. Edmund himself led a bloody three-month campaign to quash them, but at a high cost: shattered fortresses, razed granaries, and massive casualties, including his only son. The scars ran deep.
Now, the Empire hoped nobles would stabilize the region. But what did they send? Kiddie gamblers, brothel boys, lazy sons with no discipline. Duke Calvin's eighth-born—Louis—was lumped in among them.
Yet Louis saw something others didn't: potential. Some scions might rise to the challenge. Combined with his new authority and the intelligence, he planned to exploit every opportunity.
He checked the sky. Ice-blue clouds drifted overhead as tents stirred with anticipation. Yes—Frost Halberd City was within reach.
In Duke Edmund's office, tension coiled like a beast. He slammed thick reports onto his desk. Advisors flinched.
"Look at this filth!" he thundered, voice echoing off stone walls. "We were sent to guard the North, not babysit pampered idiots!"
He flipped through dossier after dossier:
Alvin Family's third son—an compulsive gambler drowning in debt.
Grant Family's fifteen-year-old, infamous in the Empire's brothels.
Calvin Family's eighth son—Louis—only a Low-Tier Official Knight thanks to nepotism.
"These aren't noble heirs—they're pimps, gamblers, drunkards," Edmund snarled. "Their forebears built this Empire with iron and blood. Now? They scheme for power and wealth, ignoring the realm's fate!"
He slammed his fist on the desk. The wood groaned. The room froze.
After a tense silence, Edmund inhaled, his rage simmering. "Let them sink or swim on their own. The North depends on us."
Louis felt the weight of his plan, tempered by newfound strength and respect. He was no longer the family's waste. He was a rising force—with strategy, intelligence, and ambition.
Three days. The Frost Halberd City black market. Weil and Silco would arrive. Duke Edmund's fury would play into his hands. The stage was set.
And Louis would be ready.
End of Chapter 4