Louis sat cross-legged, steadily adjusting his breathing as the Tidal Breathing Technique within him began to circulate naturally.
"Inhale… exhale…"
Deep, prolonged breaths echoed in his chest like the rise and fall of ocean tides, consuming and refining the energy brought by the Northern Crystal Cod.
The Tidal Breathing Technique was the Calvin Family's inherited Breath Control Technique.
It emphasized the surging rhythm of the bloodline, much like ocean tides—power erupting at high tide and returning to calm stability at low tide.
Under the cleansing influence of this warm yet violent energy, Louis felt his bloodline being reshaped.
His blood flowed faster, his meridians became smoother and more unobstructed, and even his bones radiated heat, as if they were undergoing a subtle transformation.
Finally, he slowly exhaled. The internal heat gradually settled, returning to a peaceful calm.
He had advanced.
He was now a Mid-level Formal Knight.
At such a young age, this level of strength would make him a rare genius among ordinary people.
Yet among Duke Calvin's descendants, he was still considered a bottom-tier failure.
After all, his eldest brother had already reached the realm of a Peak Knight, had achieved illustrious military feats, and rendered distinguished service to the Empire.
In this world, a knight's power originated from the awakening of their bloodline.
Not everyone could become a knight. Only those with sufficiently powerful bloodlines could activate the dormant knightly force within them.
Once on the path of knighthood, there were six primary stages:
Apprentice Knight, Formal Knight, Elite Knight, Extraordinary Knight, Peak Knight, and Legendary Knight.
Each stage represented a massive leap, separated by a chasm that many would never cross in their lifetime.
Of course, Louis was no longer anxious.
With the Daily Intelligence System in his possession, future opportunities were boundless.
After fully absorbing the essence of the fish soup, Louis gradually halted the Tidal Breathing Technique and opened his eyes.
At once, he noticed that the surrounding knights were staring at him with reverence.
The next second, thunderous cheers erupted throughout the camp.
"Long live the Lord!"
The overwhelming roar washed over him, and Louis finally let out a quiet sigh of relief.
This reaction meant his prestige had been successfully established. At least for now, he no longer needed to worry about the loyalty of the knights under his command.
When the cheers slowly subsided, Louis turned to Lambert beside him.
"How far are we from Frost Halberd City?" he asked.
Lambert straightened and replied respectfully, "About two hundred kilometers."
"That means five or six days of travel," Louis murmured, nodding slightly. Then he decisively gave his order, "Increase the pace. We'll aim to arrive by the afternoon three days from now."
Lambert's eyes sharpened. "Understood!"
Under normal circumstances, such a pace would have been impossible—especially in the icy wastelands of the North.
But morale among the knights was at its peak, and under such conditions, achieving this marching speed was more than feasible.
Frost Halberd City, the capital of the Northern Province, was the most important military and political hub of the region.
Louis's primary mission on this journey was to select his pioneering territory. Naturally, the earlier he made his choice, the greater the benefits he could secure.
However, what truly drove his urgency were the three pieces of intelligence refreshed by the system earlier that day:
Three days from now, Weil—the future Peak Knight—will be brought to the Frost Halberd City black market by a slave trader.
Three days from now, Silco, an alchemy apprentice wanted by the Golden Marrow Guild for stealing a secret formula, will be brought to the Frost Halberd City black market disguised as a slave.
Duke Edmund is furious because various noble families are sending their prodigal sons to the North.
The first piece of intelligence stunned Louis.
A Peak Knight was already considered a top-tier combatant in this world. While not as rare as Legendary Knights, every Peak Knight was still a cornerstone of national power—typically a military commander or a strategic pillar of the realm.
Although Weil had not yet fully matured, his potential alone—capable of reaching the Peak Knight realm—made him worthy of investment.
The second piece of intelligence was equally valuable.
In this world, alchemists were akin to master chemists. They specialized in handling magical materials, crafting potions, and even transforming common resources into items of immense value.
As a result, alchemists were highly coveted by all major powers.
Even the vast Calvin Family possessed only three Formal Alchemists.
Although alchemy apprentices had not yet reached full maturity, they were still exceptionally rare.
Louis's plan was simple.
He would purchase Silco under the guise of a casual slave trade, then secretly observe him.
If Silco truly possessed talent and posed no threat, Louis would keep and cultivate him.
After all, the price of a slave was not particularly high.
As for the third piece of intelligence…
Even without the system, Louis could have anticipated this development.
With noble families scrambling to offload their useless offspring onto the North, Duke Edmund—the provincial governor—was bound to be enraged.
But from Louis's perspective, this situation might actually work to his advantage.
Handled correctly, it could even become a key component of his long-term plans.
With Frost Halberd City holding so many opportunities, arriving as soon as possible was imperative.
"Damn it! Those bloodsucking parasites!"
A furious roar echoed through the governor's office.
Heavy documents were slammed onto the desk, scattering papers everywhere as they reflected the livid expression on Duke Edmund's face.
"The Empire sent them here to guard the North, not to dump a pile of useless trash on us!"
Two years ago, a rebellion had nearly caused the entire Northern Province to break away from Imperial control. Rebel forces had even breached Frost Halberd City's outer walls.
Duke Edmund had personally led elite troops into a brutal three-month campaign, barely managing to suppress the uprising.
But the cost had been catastrophic.
Border fortresses lay in ruins. Granaries had been burned to the ground. More than half of the army had perished.
And his only son… had died in battle.
Even now, order across the North had yet to fully recover.
This time, the Emperor finally realized that stability could not be maintained through military force alone.
Thus, the Imperial Court devised a new strategy: send noble scions to the North to open territories, using their influence and resources to stabilize the frontier.
But those damned noble families—
Did they truly intend to send their capable heirs to risk their lives here?
What a joke.
Most of the individuals sent north were useless degenerates. While a few were passable, they were pitifully rare.
Duke Edmund laughed bitterly in anger as he grabbed a report and flipped through it.
"Look at this disgrace."
"The third son of the Alvin Family—rumored to be addicted to gambling, with debts large enough to buy three mansions in the Royal Capital."
"The young master of the Grant Family—only fifteen, yet already a regular patron of Imperial brothels."
"Duke Calvin's eighth son—habitually idle, relying solely on family resources to barely reach Low-level Formal Knight, a complete waste of space…"
He slammed the report down.
"Are these even noble scions? They're whores, gamblers, and gluttons!"
"These pampered fools! Their ancestors forged this empire with iron and blood, yet now all they know is internal strife and selfish schemes."
"Beyond their family interests—where is their loyalty to the Empire?"
His fist crashed onto the desk, causing even the solid wooden table to groan under the impact.
The air in the room grew suffocating. None of the advisors dared to raise their heads.
After a long silence, Duke Edmund took a deep breath and forcibly suppressed his rage.
Leaning back in his chair, his eyes turned cold and sharp.
"Fine," he said slowly. "Since they've come… let them fend for themselves."
"The North will survive as it always has."
"By relying on us."