Vaerik sat cross-legged, adjusting his breathing, with the "Tidal Breathing Technique" naturally starting to operate within his body.
"Exhale, inhale."
Deep, prolonged breathing sounds echoed in his chest cavity, like the ebb and flow of tides, absorbing and refining the energy from the Northern Crystal Cod.
The "Tidal Breathing Technique" was a family breathing technique of the Tudor family.
With bloodline surging like ocean tides as its core, it emphasized cycles, bursting with power when the tide rose and returning to stability when it ebbed.
Under this mild yet fierce energy wash, Vaerik's bloodline seemed to be reshaped.
He could feel the speed of blood flow in his body increasing, his meridians becoming more unobstructed, and even his bones slightly heating up, as if undergoing a transformation.
Finally, with a slow exhalation, the heat in his body gradually settled and became calm—he had advanced.
Middle-rank formal knight.
At such a young age, this level of strength would be considered one-in-ten-thousand talent among ordinary people.
But among Duke Tudor's offspring, he was still the bottom-ranked waste.
After all, his eldest brother was already a peak knight, with illustrious military achievements and great contributions to the empire.
In this world, a knight's power came from the awakening of the bloodline.
Not everyone could become a knight; only those with strong enough lineage could activate the dormant knight power within their bodies.
After embarking on the knight's path, there were six main stages: knight apprentice, formal knight, elite knight, extraordinary knight, peak knight, and legendary knight, with a huge gap between each stage.
Of course, Vaerik was no longer in a hurry now.
With the Daily Intelligence System in hand, future opportunities would not be lacking.
After fully absorbing the essence of the fish soup, Vaerik slowly stopped the Tidal Breathing Technique and opened his eyes.
He immediately noticed that the surrounding knights were looking at him with worshipful eyes.
The next second, deafening cheers echoed throughout the camp: "Long live Lord Vaerik!"
Hearing the thunderous cheers, Vaerik finally breathed a sigh of relief.
This meant his prestige had been initially established, and at least for now, he didn't have to worry about the knights' loyalty issue.
After the cheers, Vaerik turned to Lambert beside him and asked, "How far are we from Frost Halberd City?"
Lambert respectfully replied, "About two hundred kilometers."
"So that's a five to six-day journey." Vaerik nodded slightly, then decisively ordered, "Speed up, aim to arrive by the afternoon three days from now."
Lambert respectfully responded, "Understood!"
Under normal circumstances, the team would never be able to travel so quickly, especially on this icy wasteland.
But now, with the knights' morale at its peak, completing such a marching goal was more than possible.
Frost Halberd City, the capital of the Northern Province, was also the most important military and political center in the North.
Vaerik's main task on this journey was to choose his pioneering territory, and naturally, the earlier he chose, the greater the benefits.
But what really made him eager to reach Frost Halberd City were the three pieces of intelligence refreshed by the system today:
[1: Three days later, Weir, who has the potential to become a peak knight, will be brought to the black market in Frost Halberd City by slave traders.]
[2: Three days later, alchemy apprentice Hilco, wanted by the Golden Marrow Guild for stealing a secret formula, will be disguised as a slave and brought to the black market in Frost Halberd City by slave traders.]
[3: Duke Edmund is furious because various great families have sent their prodigal sons to the North.]
The first piece of intelligence greatly pleased Vaerik.
A peak knight, in this world, was already considered a top-tier combat force, though not comparable to the legendary knights who could be counted on fingers.
But almost every peak knight was a military commander, a pillar of the kingdom, and any faction would regard them as a cornerstone.
The current Weir might not have grown up yet, but just the talent to enter the realm of peak knights was worth Vaerik's investment.
The second piece of intelligence was also extremely valuable.
In this world, "alchemists" were similar to chemists, good at handling various magical items and even transforming cheap materials into high-value items—they were scarce talents fought over by various powers.
Throughout the Tudor family, there were only three formal alchemists.
Although alchemy apprentices were not yet fully matured, they were still extremely rare.
Vaerik's plan was simple: first, pretend to casually buy Hilco, then observe him secretly.
If he indeed had potential and posed no danger, he would keep him for cultivation.
After all, the price of a slave should not be too high.
As for the third piece...
Even without the intelligence system, Vaerik could guess that this would happen.
With various great families rushing to send their incompetent sons to the North, Duke Edmund, as the provincial governor, would naturally be furious.
But from Vaerik's perspective, this might not be a bad thing.
If handled properly, it could become part of his plan.
Since Frost Halberd City held so many opportunities, they had to reach it as soon as possible!
...
"Damn it! These blood-sucking parasites! The empire asked them to send people to guard the North, not to send a bunch of useless mouths to drag us down!"
In the governor's office, heavy reports were slammed onto the desk.
Papers scattered, reflecting Duke Edmund's furious face.
A rebellion two years ago had nearly caused the entire North to break away from imperial control, and the rebels had even breached the outer wall of Frost Halberd City!
Duke Edmund had led an elite force to fight for three months before barely suppressing those rebels.
But at what cost?
Border fortresses were destroyed, granaries were burned, the army lost more than half its strength, and his only son had died.
The order throughout the entire North had not yet fully recovered.
This time, the emperor finally realized that relying solely on military garrisons could never maintain stability.
So he came up with the strategy of having noble sons come to the North to pioneer territories, using their strength to stabilize the frontier.
But these foolish aristocratic families!
Did they really want to send their family elites to risk their lives in the North?
What a joke!
A bunch of wastes had been dispatched to the North, though there were some normal people, but they were the minority.
Duke Edmund laughed in extreme anger, grabbing a report and flipping through it: "Let's see what kind of people they've sent!"
The third prince of the Elvin family, rumored to be a compulsive gambler with debts enough to buy three mansions in the capital.
The young master of the Grant family, reportedly only fifteen years old, yet already a regular guest at all the empire's brothels.
The eighth son of Duke Tudor, idle and lazy, a formal knight of low rank only because of family resources—a complete waste.
...
"Is this a group of noble sons? They've sent me whoremongers, gamblers, and good-for-nothings!
A bunch of pampered fools! Their ancestors carved out territories with iron and blood, but now they only know how to fight for power and engage in intrigue.
In their eyes, there's only room for their family interests, where's the concern for the empire's safety!"
Duke Edmund was furious, slamming his fist on the desk, causing even the thick wooden desk to groan under the burden.
The atmosphere in the room was so oppressive that one could hardly breathe, and the staff members lowered their heads, not daring to speak.
After a while, Edmund took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the anger in his heart, and sat back in his chair with a grim look.
"Fine. Since these fools have come rolling in, let them fend for themselves. The North still has to rely on us."