"We've arrived at the River Valley Basin."

When the scouts relayed the news from afar, Louis was standing on a protruding rock platform, holding a telescope, his gaze piercing through the snow-covered valley, looking at the frost-laden lowlands.

The land remained pale, the wind carrying the scent of permafrost and withered grass.

Yet, despite this, the basin still appeared exceptionally vast and fertile.

A great river flowed slowly through the center, with broken wooden fences and lingering smoke scattered along its banks.

This was the encampment of the Frost Giants, densely packed and scattered in over thirty locations.

"According to the scouts' report, there are a total of ninety-eight giants, occupying an area that forms a semi-arc shape, mainly concentrated in the central and southeastern hilly areas of the basin." Lambert said quietly, dismounting with the intelligence report, walking over to him.

Louis nodded, his gaze following the giant's trails, indicating they had held this place for some time.

He dismounted, with his cloak sweeping the ground, and unfurled the combat map on the temporary command platform.

This is a typical "wintering group of giants," exploiting the chaos in the Northern Territory post-locust plague, crossing through the Rock Fissure Pass, and occupying this unplanted basin.

They've set up home here, which means these enormous creatures won't leave easily.

This is the first hard battle before spring plowing in the Northern Territory.

"... If the valley passage is not liberated, spring plowing will be entirely delayed. It's not just about defeating the Frost Giants; it's about a swift and thorough cleanse."

Fortunately, he had already confirmed the intel through the Daily Intelligence System and advance scouts:

"Enemy forces total ninety-eight, including eight special individuals, three violent types marked with red, furious flames. Five are heavy armor defensive types, blue eye stone skin."

So before coming, Louis had prepared various plans and forces.

He ordered the existing troops to be divided into two groups.

Fast hunting group: Comprised of fifty-two Red Tide Elite Knights, divided into ten teams led by Lambert, all equipped with light magic explosion bullets;

Heavy bombardment group: The engineering corps transported two heavy magic explosion bullets a day earlier, now set up at vantage points on both sides of the canyon, calibrated for wind to ensure accuracy.

The entire operation would be personally commanded by Louis, who would stand at the northwest observation point, using the command flag for long-distance coordination across the battlefield.

Louis looked down at the basin, the ground trampled as if scorched, and said in a deep voice: "We are going to show these snow-eating, blood-drinking monsters what human warfare means."

For the Red Tide Territory Knight Order, this was not a traditional war; it was a meticulously designed grand hunt.

And the prey was the ninety-eight Frost Giants entrenched here.

"A plain battle? Only a madman would do such a thing." Louis chuckled softly from the high ground.

"Even elite knights are not made of steel, and with giants having immense strength, going head-to-head with ninety-eight of them would result in heavy casualties."

Thus, from the start, he had no intention of engaging these monsters directly.

His plan was to lure them into the trap, lock them in place, and then slice them piece by piece.

These giants, although powerful, had just survived a harsh winter.

Without food reserves, they've relied only on their body fat for two months, their stomachs growling, their bodies weakened.

This was their most vulnerable moment.

So Louis had silently set up thirteen large military cooking pots by dusk yesterday at three valley edges, the kettle mouth, the slope, and under Eagle's Beak Rock.

In the pots simmered a broth mixed with salted fat, roasted meat, and aromatic herb juice, specifically designed to stimulate the Frost Giant's sense of smell.

This seasoning, carried by the north wind, served as an invisible whip, delivering the scent precisely into the giants' camp.

Louis stood at the vantage point, watching as the scouts reported: "They've moved, starting to gather."

From the Frost Giants' perspective, this might appear to be a divine feast.

The aroma was indeed overwhelming.

Even with their dull olfactory senses, they could clearly distinguish this scent now.

Grilled tendons mixed with bone oil and salted fat, sprinkled with some warm, spicy plant extract—the smell was so strong it hooked into the depths of their stomachs, dragging them forcibly from their camp.

Over thirty Frost Giants rose and staggered.

Hunger had driven them mad long ago.

The storm had only just stopped last night, and for two days, the entire clan had not had a meal. The frozen beasts under the snow were inedible, and the bodies of their kin had already been gnawed clean.

This enchanting scent naturally proved irresistible.

A red-marked individual charged out of the camp first, the scars on its shoulder gleaming blood-red in the morning light.

It pushed and shoved its fellow clansmen without concern, breaking two snow pines along the way, after crashing into a weaker Frost Giant and knocking it down the ravine.

"Roar!!!" The howl reverberated across the field, shaking the very ice to breaking point.

The other giants followed, a thundering stampede that shook the mountain slopes.

The giants, weighing several tons, stumbled and scrambled, their clubs wildly swinging, sending stone fragments scattering and heaps of snow tumbling down.

This was a chaotic and brutal scene, the very disorder Louis had been waiting for.

At the end of the gorge, the cold wind swirled, snow rose, carried along with a faint popping sound over the ridges.

Atop both side vantage points, the iron tripods were tightly covered with camo snow cloth, beneath which silently rested the two heavy magic explosion bullets.

Everything was in place, awaiting the final command.

And along the cliff's median line, Louis, hand on the telescope, watched intently the giant-like maddened bulls charging into the valley floor below.

He knew very well: The giants' hearing and intelligence were insufficient to uncover such traps—especially while in a state of hunger.

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