A row of crude iron pots sat atop crackling wood fires, the faint scent of wheat porridge drifting through the air.

The slaves formed long lines, clutching rough wooden bowls as they waited for their portions.

Gratitude shone in their eyes. For so long, they had struggled against hunger every single day, fighting over even scraps.

Now, a bowl of steaming hot porridge felt like an immense blessing.

Even Lord Louis's generosity would never be fully repaid.

George stood behind the cook station, ladling out the porridge with a huge wooden scoop. His face was clouded with worry as he muttered, "My lord, if you keep feeding them like this, the grain won't last. What if we run short—"

His words were cut off as Louis waved a dismissive hand. "People get hungry. They need to eat. I told you to cook, so cook. Where's all this nonsense coming from?"

George opened his mouth, then closed it, sighed, and resigned himself to scooping more porridge.

His new master was generous to a fault, almost recklessly so with the provisions. *At this rate, I'll be back on the slave market within six months,* he thought gloomily.

In that case, he might as well sneak a few extra bowls for himself while there was still food to eat.

Louis, for his part, wasn't worried at all.

He had no fear of running out of food. Crimson Tide Territory had resources so abundant that starvation simply wasn't on the table.

That was the confidence his cheat ability gave him.

And conveniently, today's intelligence had just updated:

**[1: Colonization Baron Hayes froze to death en route to his territory after excessive drinking.]**

**[2: The governor's youngest daughter, Emily Edmund, has broken through to low-stage Elite Knight.]**

**[3: A pack of seventy starving Ice Wolves, drawn by the scent of our grain, is lying in ambush in the canyon ahead, waiting to strike the caravan.]**

The first two items mattered little to Louis. At most, Hayes's death stirred a faint sense of pity.

But the third entry made his expression harden.

Seventy Ice Wolves. With his current forces, he wasn't afraid, but if he let his guard down and these savage beasts managed an ambush, the losses would outweigh any gain.

He summoned Lambert immediately and issued his orders in a low voice: "Send the knights out in groups of five to scout the canyon for anything unusual."

Lambert nodded without hesitation. The knights swiftly divided into squads and spurred their horses toward the canyon.

The wind howled as they entered the narrow pass, carrying with it a sinister chill.

The knight squads advanced across the snow. A foul stench hung in the air: rotting meat mingled with the musk of wild animals, making them wrinkle their noses.

Lambert dismounted, crouched in the snow, and brushed aside the thin surface layer to reveal the chaotic claw prints beneath.

The tracks were deep. These wolves were starving, too hungry even to bother hiding their trail.

He looked up, his expression grim. "We've got company."

The scouts quickly returned to Louis and reported their findings in detail.

Louis listened without any sign of panic. "Good. If they've come to us, let's show them who the real prey is."

He then ordered traps laid throughout the canyon to lure the pack into the net.

The starving Ice Wolves lay flattened against the snow, their pale green eyes locked on the distant caravan.

Their fur was thick and coarse, colored somewhere between gray-white and dark blue, blending seamlessly with the snow. Perfect camouflage in this frozen wasteland.

Hunger had drawn their frames gaunt, but the terrifying explosive power coiled beneath those bones was unmistakable.

The wind carried a tantalizing scent. The prey they craved.

*Awoo!* The pack leader let out a low howl.

Dozens of dark shapes burst from the snow. Silent as ghosts, they crept forward, closing in on the caravan.

Closer… closer…

*CRACK!*

A thunderous snap tore through the night. Massive wooden stake traps sprang upward, their sharpened spears impaling the lead wolves. Blood sprayed across the snow in an instant.

The pack scattered in panic, driven wild by the sudden ambush.

Soldiers lying in wait on the perimeter drew their bows. Arrows rained down like a storm.

*Fwit! Fwit! Fwit!*

The Ice Wolves couldn't evade in time. One after another, they were struck through the throat, rolling over in the snow as their blood spread in crimson pools.

"Now!"

Lambert's longsword traced a silver arc through the air. The knights launched their assault, and the battlefield erupted with raging Battle Aura.

One knight leaped high, his lance blazing with condensed crimson light. He drove it through a lunging wolf, the explosive energy pinning the corpse to the snow and blasting a crater around it.

Another swung a greatsword wreathed in red Aura flames. He brought it crashing down, splitting the darkness—and a massive wolf—clean in half.

Warm blood bloomed across the snow like crimson flowers.

The pack's feral courage shattered. They scattered in full rout.

"Close the net!"

The knights adjusted their formation and encircled the remaining wolves. Every slash of their Aura-charged blades claimed another life.

Amid the shrieks and the wet sound of steel cleaving flesh, the pack was annihilated.

In the end, only the alpha remained. It stood alone on the blood-soaked snowfield, its thick fur drenched, ice-green eyes fixed on Lambert with a final, defiant snarl.

*Awooo!*

The alpha lunged. A massive body hurtling toward Lambert, claws sweeping with enough force to shred steel.

But Lambert simply sidestepped. Light condensed along his blade as Aura flared, and the sword blazed crimson.

"Cleave!"

With that single growl, the blade fell like a thunderbolt. The alpha's head separated from its body. Hot blood arced through the air. The corpse crashed to the ground.

The battle had ended faster than expected, the knights virtually unscathed.

Lambert wasn't even breathing hard. He turned to look at Louis, who was riding toward him. "My lord, the pack has been wiped out."

The knights tallied the results: seventy Ice Wolves, annihilated.

The spoils were substantial. Seventy thick pelts, a trove of sharp fangs, and most importantly, a mountain of wolf meat.

Louis surveyed the haul and nodded with satisfaction. "Good work. Skin the wolves. Distribute the meat to the men. We feast tonight."

The soldiers erupted in cheers. In the frozen grip of the Northlands, a hot meal of fresh meat was a dream come true. Wolf meat was perfectly edible; properly prepared, it tasted no different from other game.

"The lord is far too generous…"

In that moment, the newly joined soldiers looked at Louis with eyes that had shifted from mere obedience to genuine, heartfelt approval.