The snow finally stopped.

Louis stood atop Red Tide Castle, gazing far into the snow-clad mountains and ruins.

A sliver of early spring sunlight barely penetrated the clouds, illuminating the rooftops and fields that had not yet fallen during the harsh winter.

The temperature was slowly rising, with tiny cracks appearing on the frozen river, and the steam vents were more vigorous than a few days ago.

But this did not mean that spring had arrived in the Northern Territory.

Although the recent snow was lighter, the number of refugees outside the Red Tide Territory continued to grow.

They appeared in groups, wrapped in tattered blankets, fingers cracked and bound with twine, some carrying the sick, others dragging corpses, and more women clutching babies, kneeling by the main road to Red Tide. Their eyes long devoid of tears, only numbness and the instinct to survive remained.

"Please... we don't ask to live, just let the children in..."

"My husband has already frozen to death... if we don't enter the city soon, not even bones will be found..."

Louis stood on the city wall, watched them silently for a while, and then turned to give orders:

"Open the eastern defense zone and set up temporary refugee shelters. However, all incoming refugees must pass through two stages of disinfection quarantine, and no already-dead bodies can come in.

Anyone whose body is not completely deteriorated and can still stand will be assigned to labor groups, where the disaster recovery team will define temporary tent zones, organized by family.

Severely ill individuals will be transferred to make-shift medical camps, and doctors there will do their best, but nothing is forced.

Whether they survive depends on their own will, but at the very least, they'll have a bowl of hot porridge here."

Thus, rows of tents were erected on the open grounds outside Red Tide City, hastily built from waste wood, animal hides, and fuel cloth to shield the refugees from the night chill.

Every morning, convoys delivered cooked bitter frost potato soup and Snow Bone Wheat dumplings, distributed per head, one portion per person, with precise order.

Not warm enough, nor secure enough.

But this is the Northern Territory.

Elsewhere, they would have died long ago.

In the Red Tide Territory, they at least still have the ability to live.

The scout intel from the north told an even more silent tale, several remote small territories had completely disappeared.

Not swallowed by pestilence, nor consumed by war, but simply lost contact.

He looked down at the latest statistics in his hand, the Red Tide Territory had lost only 3,261 people this winter.

This may seem like a lot of deaths, but it was the best result Louis could achieve, the most outstanding answer in the entire Northern Territory.

And those places that had been in contact with Louis in the fall, now had no response at all.

They had just survived the pest plague, escaping the monsters' blades thanks to mountains or rivers, but couldn't withstand this winter.

Perhaps the nobility had abandoned the people and fled, or maybe they didn't manage to escape in time and had no chance to call for help.

Louis said nothing, he simply picked up a pen quietly and drew a thin line on the map, circling those towns that had gone silent into the shadow of death.

Then he turned and said, "No festivities this year, as supplies are tight and food must be reserved for an emergency quota for another quarter."

Bradley nodded and noted it down.

"However, something has to be done," he paused, his eyes remained clear, "Prepare a distribution ceremony, keep it simple in the square. Distribute an extra portion of 'spring ration' to everyone. New residents and old residents are treated equally."

That morning, the first open smiles of the winter appeared on Red Tide's square.

Carriages rolled into the square, soldiers neatly stacked sacks of food: potatoes, rye, salted meat, smoked fish, and some mixed, dried, and durable stew packs.

This had become the current food limit for the Red Tide Territory.

Standing on the platform, Louis scanned the square.

He wasn't dressed formally, nor did he give a long speech, just a few brief words: "This is your proof of getting through the winter. May we keep on living through every winter to come."

The applause first started sparsely, like tiny flakes falling on stone pavements, but soon grew into a roaring tide, echoing across the square like spring thunder in the valleys.

New residents were deeply touched, bowing their heads in thanks, many with reddened eyes as tears fell when they received their symbolic portion of spring grain.

For those who narrowly escaped death, this one serving of spring grain was not just sustenance, but a belief in survival.

As for the city's native residents who had started with Louis in the ruins two years ago, they voiced no complaints.

"We were just the same before, even a hot soup or a blanket was borne out by Lord Louis."

"You're new, you don't understand. The Lord even buried our dead family and arranged night watch."

"The great Lord always thinks of letting everyone have a bite to eat."

After this ceremony, Red Tide quickly returned to its usual rhythm.

There were no celebratory banquets, no fireworks, no balls.

By the time Louis returned to his study, it was pitch dark outside, and the cold wind had not completely ceased.

He took off his snow-laden cloak, hung it by the stove, yet didn't immediately sit down to rest.

In truth, the pressure was just beginning, not only with the plans for spring.

According to intelligence, the Sixth Prince, Astha August, who had been marginalized by the Empire for a long time, had arrived in the Northern Territory.

And the post-disaster reconstruction Governor's meeting in the Northern Territory would also be held in a month.

Time was simply too short.

He walked to the desk and spread out his intelligence notebook, written in Chinese characters, alongside the map.

These were records of resource distribution and power shifts across various territories over the years, compiled through the Daily Intelligence System.

In the past, his territory was too small to qualify for participation in the struggle for these lands.

But now the situation has changed.

The majority of Northern Territory nobility have been heavily damaged, some lords have been completely destroyed, and large tracts of land have become vacant.

With the dominion and survival miracle he demonstrated during this disaster, Red Tide Territory is bound to be rewarded with more.

More precisely, large amounts of wasted land needing reclamation will be allocated to him.

He sipped the cold tea, his eyebrows and eyes calm, yet within him was a cool delight.

This is an opportunity arising from misfortune.

The map was spread out before him, covered with circles, dots, dense notes overlaying tactical symbols and red-blue markings.

He held a silver pen in hand, gently sketching along the mountain ranges and valleys on the map.

First target: Southeast low-lying valley.

He circled the area with three thick lines.

"There's also some geothermal, suitable for greenhouse expansion, refugee settlement, and food storage as well."

He wrote three words on the side: Red Tide Grain Store.

As long as he controls this valley area, combined with his greenhouse planting method, along with the existing grain fields of Red Tide's domain.

Within the next two years, not only can he achieve food self-sufficiency, but perhaps even export, and by then the entire Northern Territory will depend on our rations to survive the winter.

Second target: Northern abandoned mineral veins.

He marked several deep brown mountain ranges on the Northern Territory map, lines winding like yet-unawakened permafrost veins.

The mineral band is scattered among the northern mountains, with complex terrain and high mining difficulty.

Generations of nobility have attempted to exploit it, but due to unstable rock layers and unknown resources, have abandoned it, leaving behind mountain-full abandoned mining tunnels, now recorded in Empire records as a "mining failure area."

But Louis is different; he has a cheat— the Daily Intelligence System.

The intelligence informs him, the mineral band isn't exhausted in mining but hasn't truly begun.

Flare oil, chi pulse stones, and potentially deep-layer magic marrow veins all lie hidden beneath the ice.

By securing and stabilizing the land, and gradually exploring, it will eventually become the most important resource backing of Red Tide Territory.

The Empire's development of magic energy has always been slow and conservative, truly led by the Jade Federation.

He has always wanted to use memories from his past life to advance magic energy technology, as future military equipment and infrastructure for Red Tide, stepping up technological evolution.

But without the resources before, a clever housewife cannot cook without rice.

And now he has it.

Even if Red Tide cannot fully utilize it in the short term, just serving as an export base for magic energy raw materials could lead to wealth.

Third target: Frost Howl Fjord.

He marked a hypothetical sea route along the ice-bound coastline of white and blue, and marked several pirate activity points around it.

"A port brings trade, trade gathers wealth."

He lightly tapped the harbor with sharp eyes: "Even if operational for only a few months a year, if it yields spices, salt, wine, and intelligence from the South, I can change the strategic rhythm for a whole year."

"As for those pirates..." he smiled faintly, not writing any more but merely tapping the edge of the coast.

...

As time passed, the map became increasingly filled with dense annotations, red lines like veins, the silver pen lying quietly against the table edge.

Louis leaned back against the chair, fingers lightly tapping the tabletop, eyes clear and calm.

"The issue isn't whether these lands can be claimed, but how to claim them quickly, steadily, and without detection."

The true hunter never makes a sound before they bite down on their prey.

He thought about how to propose suggestions under the guise of "assisting reconstruction," use the most reasonable excuses to apply for the land, quietly incorporating key places into his domain.

When others notice, he will have already quietly taken root.

He knew he could not be too strong, as it is hard work and high prowess can invoke fear and bind restraint.

Yet he can't be too weak either; too weak means no bargaining chips, inciting other nobles' envy.

So he must be perfectly strong."

In the upcoming Northern Territory meeting, he will disguise this "expansion plan" as selfless contribution to post-disaster recovery.

And tonight, he has already, in his heart, quietly sketched out the development for the next ten years.

The red pens draw out not just border lines, but a hidden line to true strength.

When the snow melts and the seeds are sown, he will have his granary, mines, ports, and sources of troops.

He will make everyone think he is merely "striving to survive."

Until one day, they realize that the once weak Louis has become a sun shining upon the Northern Territory.

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