Chapter 322: Chapter 233: Return

There are always those who cling to life, just waiting for that delayed beam of light.

The ability to accurately find these surviving places was not coincidental, but the achievement of the Daily Intelligence System.

Countless ordinary people, who were destined to die in the Insect Tide, survived because of this intelligence.

“It’s the knights of the Red Tide Territory.”

“Lord Louis sent them here.”

“It was the Dragon Ancestor who sent him to save us…”

In the word-of-mouth among survivors, the young lord who broke through the siege in the Battle of the Northern Territory and swept the Doomsday Nest is no longer just a person, but the Sun that continues to shine upon them.

Children secretly drew the red flag on the muddy ground, and women sewed strips of Red Tide Territory cloth into their prayer bands.

There were old men whispering “Louis Calvin,” as if reciting a prayer for redemption.

They didn’t know what the Empire was, nor did they understand the Knight Order, only knowing it was this name that gave them a hand during the most desperate times.

It was faith.

The synonym for a miracle.

Returning to the knights’ ranks of the Red Tide Territory, the injured, the weary, the soldiers just crawling out of corpse water, dismounted and removed their armor.

Walking to the carriage, a dust-covered rescue captain knelt on one knee, hoarsely reporting, “Pine and Fir Valley… all remaining twenty-four people have been safely brought back.”

He glanced at the blood-stained report and then at the knights.

He simply nodded lightly, without saying more.

His gaze fell onto the tactical map, over the entire Northern Territory that was once mountains and rivers, now turned to scorched earth.

“Continue.”

His voice was calm, low in tone, but everyone knew behind those two words was the responsibility for countless lives.

Now, the team has taken in over three thousand refugees.

Wounded soldiers, orphans, widows, fleeing nobility, solitary mercenaries…

They all knew once they entered the Red Tide Territory, they wouldn’t be swallowed by the Insect Swarm.

From Frost Halberd City to the Red Tide Territory isn’t actually too far.

The carriage moved slowly; every time it passed a village or town ruins, the air grew a bit heavier.

The once fertile fields are now just fragments of charred black embers.

Beside the village entrance stone monument, only the remnants of a child’s body remained, with a few small ribs scattered nearby.

He saw the corpse of an old man sitting beneath the eaves, covered in thick snow.

The river was no longer clear, parts of it turned eerie red-black due to decaying bodies and spores; fish had long vanished, leaving only froth and stench.

Some forests were burned by spores, charred branches stood black as ink, reaching skyward, like in mourning.

The knights remained silent, even the horses grew restless, as if they sensed the unresolved death on the land.

Inside the swaying carriage, Louis looked at the picturesque ruins outside the window, his fingers unconsciously tapping the map’s edge.

The Northern Territory terrain was shattered, roads broken, bridges collapsed.

Population gaps, nobility wiped out, resource supply chains entirely collapsed.

“The Northern Territory has already died once completely.” He murmured softly.

Despite being the victor of the war, there was not a hint of “triumphant” ease.

He leaned back in the carriage, closing his eyes in exhaustion.

What path does the future hold?

Liveliness, resources, order reconstruction, territorial expansion, political strife, nobility vacancy…

Too many problems came one after another. He knew the post-war Northern Territory would be an unclaimed blank.

And he would have to step into this blank, becoming one of the main forces in rebuilding the Northern Territory.

Even though the Emperor’s awards haven’t been issued yet, Louis was already well aware:

“There is no longer a shortage of land.”

After this disaster that annihilated four-fifths of the population, the land became empty and silent, awaiting a new ruler to write the rules.

And the death of countless nobility, especially the extinction of major fiefs in the Northern Territory, also meant the Emperor would reassign power and authority.

And the “Lord of the Red Tide Territory, Louis Calvin,” undoubtedly stood at the top of the award list.

But this is both a reward and poison.

He must face the ongoing post-disaster order reconstruction and guard against the old nobility and new political enemies who covet accomplishment, question origins, and seek benefit.

A new round of bloodless war has already started, though at this stage, it’s not something he can dictate.

He has sent a letter to his Duke father, asking him to manage and coordinate among them.

After a long and dark return journey, Louis finally returned to the Red Tide Territory.

When the knight pulled back his cloak, revealed his faceplate, and softly said to him: “My lord, we are home.”

He did not need to respond.

Because he had already seen, at the familiar mountain ridge corner, countless figures standing on the mountain path hillside, facing the wind like welcoming the Sun out of the clouds.

The border of the Red Tide Territory is like a threshold leading to light.

Unlike the Northern Territory’s many corpse-laden, spore-covered ruins, here the sky remained azure, clouds leisurely drifted by, and cooking smoke rose sinuously among the mountains.

This land, the Red Tide Territory he built brick by brick, remained intact.

Relying on his meticulous pre-war preparations, relying on the unrelenting day and night alerts of the Daily Intelligence System, relying on the small units rushing to the front lines and returning silently.

And today, the man who created miracles has returned.

Welcoming him were not court musicians, not red carpet flowers, but that trust and reverence from the depths of a thousand faces.

Farmers rushing from the fields, craftsmen full of sawdust, village doctors carrying yet-to-heal wounded, children holding torn cloth flags…

They gathered on both sides of the road, spontaneously coming, their faces filled with excitement and gratitude.

In their hands were rough-dyed red cloths, fragrant herbal bunches that still smelled good after drying, and simple wooden signs painted with a crimson Sun.

They knew what happened outside, and knew who allowed this land to escape calamity, who carved out a path between corpse tides and despair for them.

Some shouted, “Lord Louis is back! The Sun is back!”

Others hoarsely shouted, “He saved us, indeed!”

“Long live Lord Louis!”

“Red Tide is immortal! May the Sun shine forever!”

Some cried, while others knelt down.

At this moment, no one asked where he returned from, nor where he was headed.

They just used the simplest way, treating him as the true “Sun.”

And among the crowd, Louis saw many familiar or unfamiliar figures…

The older woman with half her face burned, who lost her child in the flames, now smiled with her only remaining eye.

The young mother who lost her husband, holding her wailing baby, bowed deeply.

The little boy once buried in snow, his scars not yet healed, held a board painted with the “Sun Mark” high in the wind, as if responding, “You’re back, I’ve always been here.”

Among them, some were original followers, some were refugees, orphans, mourners that Louis saved one by one from the scorched earth.

They weren’t nobility, but in silence, they gave Louis the heaviest and most gentle response.

In the Red Tide Sea of people’s welcome, Louis’s gaze finally landed on that familiar figure.

Emily, her blue hair lightly dancing in the wind, still wearing a simple yet elegant noble gown.

She stood at the forefront of the crowd, her eyes slightly reddened, but maintaining the poise of a noble lady, slowly approaching, her fingertips gently landing on his shoulder.

“…You’re back.” She said softly, her tone paced steadily, as if suppressing long-overflowing emotions.

Louis gazed at her, nodding gently: “I’m back.”

As soon as the words fell, she could no longer hold back, plunged into his embrace, her movement restrained yet carrying a slight tremor, like the place long waited for finally came.

And behind him, Sif slowly approached, her short silver hair slightly swaying in the wind, tips smeared with dust.

She stood with arms crossed, a few steps away, snorting coldly, “You finally managed to come back.”

Her tone was very sour, but her steps did not halt. Coming closer, she too unhesitatingly lowered her head and hugged him.

Her mouth was hard as usual, but her eyes were red.

At this moment, Louis finally saw many familiar or unfamiliar faces… }}

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