Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

The audience watched intently, barely daring to breathe, occasionally letting out gasps and exclamations in response to the actors' movements, yet maintaining a standard level of order throughout; no one made a loud noise… at least until the real climax, they remained restrained.

The actors on stage displayed superb acting skills, vividly and skillfully portraying the characters with their every glance and gesture, deeply engaging the audience's emotions and stirring the feelings of all onlookers.

This escalating emotional atmosphere reached its peak when the obese actor was broken in two during the sixth act. The entire audience stood up, cheering and sweating profusely, their faces flushed red. Coins rained down on the stage, even causing the actors on stage to dodge.

Of course, although these wealthy citizens gave a lot of money as tips, it still couldn't compare to the casual gesture of those dignitaries sitting on the high stands—after all, they gave gleaming gold coins that were so bright they could blind people.

"What a clever idea! They actually found a chubby dwarf to play that fool Arius, and then separated his upper and lower body in Act 6... It's just too contrived, though. Where do they find so many nice lines to say?"

Claudia laughed crisply and melodiously, her eyebrows curving into joyful arcs. Her fingers tapped incessantly on the chair next to her, especially when she thought about the wonderful effect caused by the moment when the dwarf actor and her base broke apart. She laughed so hard that she couldn't straighten up.

“Go and reward them; such ingenuity deserves the richest reward.”

The emperor didn't even turn his head; the servants behind him immediately bowed, accepted the order, and hurriedly went to make the arrangements.

Today's play has finally come to an end, and everyone was quite satisfied—although many people knew that the play had been adapted a lot from the real events, they also understood that a play cannot be without any embellishment, after all, it is an artistic expression, so few people would care.

Compared to ticket revenue, the tips from dignitaries and audience members are the real source of income for the actors, and cheers can be heard accurately from backstage even across the high platform.

The emperor, disguised and traveling discreetly, revealed his identity to no one and left calmly after enjoying the spectacle. Throughout the entire performance, the actors remained unaware of the lavish reward bestowed upon them, but this did not diminish their excitement, fueling their determination to create even more captivating and excellent plays.

The southern war raged on, with the Empire's legions being continuously deployed. Yet, this place seemed completely unaffected, even appearing more prosperous due to the string of victories.

It seems that war is the best tonic for this country, a highly effective stimulant, especially wars in which a series of great victories are achieved and land is plundered, which excites everyone.

On the way back in the carriage, impromptu street orators would appear from time to time along the roadside. Their eloquence varied, but they were all enthusiastic and generous in expressing their views in public. There were also many onlookers who would criticize them—this was when their true abilities were put to the test.

Those who are ignorant will soon be left speechless and unable to answer the questions, and will have to retreat in shame. On the other hand, those who are truly prepared, knowledgeable and learned will often be able to silence their opponents and win more applause for themselves. Everything is so simple and clear, and the winner and loser will be determined in the blink of an eye.

Commercial activity in the city flourished, and the newly conquered lands were a hotbed of development. Countless people recognized their value, and the capital city was undoubtedly the best entry point to seize this opportunity, provided they could gain the support of a certain noble elder…

Claudia tapped lightly on the windowpane with her fingers. The gilded red marrow wood was tough and glossy, and when tapped, it made a crisp sound similar to metal, which made the emperor even happier.

Few people can truly understand the feeling of wielding immense power, and even fewer can comprehend the sensation of that power growing ever larger and more unquestionable… It's like possessing a piece of gold that grows on its own, with wealth increasing at a visible rate every day.

How noble, how majestic, how wealthy and proud is the master of the richest nation on this land? Holding supreme power, a mighty army driven by the monarch's will crushes and annihilates the surrounding disobedience, staining more and more land with the colors of the empire, and planting the imperial flag in every corner...

No enjoyment can compare to this, and no pleasure can rival even a fraction of power. This is the sweetest poison, the richest syrup. Once tasted, everything else loses its appeal and appears thin and pale.

"...This is something that can so easily make one lose their mind," Claudia sighed. A cold emotion, like that of a sword, occupied the emperor's heart, making her examine herself from a cruel, detached perspective, dissecting herself piece by piece, and unhesitatingly revealing the deepest, most hidden things.

She should be joyful, she should be proud... but she also knew she should be vigilant—the emperor's power came from the support of the imperial people, and Clautina knew this very well; ever since Scripps taught her, the emperor had never forgotten this saying...

The emperor's power is never bestowed by heaven, but rather recognized by the people. He is the emperor. Any self-righteous, mediocre, or tyrannical ruler will think that power is a matter of course and squander it recklessly, unaware that he is undermining the foundation of his throne. Until the day he collapses, he will still be ignorant and blame others.

Scripps taught her very well... and she did very well. Because she understood the origin of power, she knew even better how to grasp more power in her own hands—to prove to the entire empire, to all the people of the empire, that she would lead the empire to prosperity, that she would make the empire stronger, and the most powerful and direct evidence, without a doubt, was the victory of external conquest.

The imperial nobles and elders could no longer be arrogant in front of the emperor. Although they had also gained a lot from the conquests in the south, the more they gained, the less they could contend with the emperor. As a result, they became more and more timid and submissive in the Senate...

The situation is getting better and better, that is an undeniable fact—her authority as emperor is becoming more and more unquestionable, the chronic diseases in the south are being eliminated and destroyed, and the empire will become stronger, more civilized and more advanced.

…………

The carriage moved at a steady pace through the bustling streets and markets, surrounded by mounted guards and shadowy figures flashing in the darkness of the surrounding rooftops, crowding around the emperor as she returned to her palace—where there were still many things for her to attend to, and such relaxation was a luxury, but also necessary.

------------

"Your Majesty, a letter from Lord Tersolius."

As if by some magical elixir, the moment the name was heard, a smile bloomed on the emperor's face, bright and radiant like the sun. His eyes, clear as autumn water, shone brilliantly, making the female official who came to deliver the message almost unable to look him in the eye, her heart pounding.

"bring here."

Claudia instinctively tucked her hair back, then reached out and took the envelope, removed the sealing wax stamp with carrots and potatoes piled together, opened the drawer and tossed it inside—the drawer was already half full.

The emperor opened the envelope and took out the letter. During this process, all the servants in the room withdrew, leaving only the emperor sitting at his desk, reading the words on the letter bit by bit.

As always, the letter provided a very detailed and comprehensive description of the situation in the south, while also proposing several ideas and solutions, expressing concerns about certain situations, and extending greetings to Christina and her two nephews... Only at the very end did she express concern for the emperor's health.

The emperor chuckled, took a piece of parchment from his desk and began to write. He wrote slowly, word by word, pausing from time to time to consider and think, then crossing out a few words, or simply throwing the parchment into the nearby stove and lighting it, before taking out a new one to start writing.

Yes, how could she not be healthy? ... She has already obtained everything she asked for, and the situation is getting better and better, so what is there to worry about? ... The real concern should be the surrounding enemies; they are the ones who should be most terrified and trembling, constantly fearing the empire's sword and legions.

Whether it's national prosperity, popular support, the defeat of enemies, the growth of power... or even Thesolius—

The emperor smiled again, but this time there was something fiery in his smile.

Longing is a deadly poison, burning the heart every moment, but she accepts it willingly, silently observing this poison spreading and burning in her heart... until finally sparking a sweet flame.

........................

The eagle's wings slice through the sky, weaving through the swirling snow. In this frigid weather, even the spirit and ruler of the sky must fill its stomach like any other creature, or hunger will render it powerless to flap its wings.

Its thick downy feathers allow it to ignore the heavy snow in the cold weather, and its strong, powerful claws can easily break the neck of its prey. But the most powerful weapon of this creature is its pair of extremely far-seeing and sharp eyes, which allow it to spot prey moving on the ground from the sky.

The bitter cold of the north threatens all life indiscriminately. The earth is a vast expanse of white, with almost no other colors distinguishable. Hardy pine and birch trees grow in clusters here, with every branch and stem covered in a thick layer of snow powder. Often, branches cannot withstand the weight and snap off with a crack.

A black dot of a creature moving among the bushes caught the eagle's attention, causing the bird of prey to silently slow down, its wings flapping less frequently, and it approached its target by circling and gliding.

As the altitude decreased, the target gradually became clearer—it was a grayish-yellow fox with a fluffy tail, darting forward through the snow, occasionally burying its head in the snow to search for possible mouse burrows.

After only a slight hesitation, the eagle continued its actions—hunting such a fox was a dangerous task, as it could easily be injured by a carnivore with sharp teeth and claws, but hunger and cold no longer allowed it to hesitate. Following some kind of instinct, it began to retract its wings and swoop down... The high-speed talons would use the impact to snap the fox's spine.

"stretch!!……"

In the blink of an eye, a thin black shadow darted into the fox's side. Accompanied by the trembling of the bowstring, the fox, completely unaware, only let out two miserable cries, curled up and convulsed a few times, before losing its life, covered in red snow powder, its scalding blood continuing to seep into the surrounding snow.

"Wow!!"

The eagle let out a sharp cry, clear like the clash of swords, but ultimately it still flapped its wings unwillingly and continued to fly upwards, away from the dangerous humans emerging from the nearby bushes, and plunged into the swirling snow.

Those who successfully hunted wore thick fur clothes and soft fox fur hats. They reached out and picked up their prey from the ground, used a small knife at their waist to cut an opening in the fox's belly, then inserted their fingers to separate the flesh from the skin, allowing their stiff limbs to regain some warmth. Then, as if peeling bark from a tree, they peeled off the entire skin with their hands, rolled it up into a small ball, and stuffed it into a leather pouch at their waist.

The remaining corpses were not wasted; they were hung outside the sheepskin robes, still dripping with blood, and exhaled large puffs of white breath. One of them reached out and pulled up his fox fur hat so that the edge wouldn't obstruct his view, revealing Toridu's much more weathered face.

His eyebrows and beard were stained gray by the wind and snow. The former Khan of the Kurist people looked up at the sky. Every wrinkle on his face seemed to be carved out with a knife. His eyes, which were once as ambitious as a wolf, were now deeper and more reserved. He was only watching the small black dot that was getting farther and farther away in the sky.

After a long while, he turned and left without saying a word.

302 Torid and the North (1)

"call!"

With heavy breathing, a figure covered in black fur emerged from the dense birch forest. The messy fur was covered in snow dust, and the melted snow water on its chest and abdomen had seeped into the fur.

This was not a wild beast buried in the snow, but a boy covered in fur. His face was blue from the cold. Although his thick fur prevented him from freezing to death, lying in the snow for a long time was causing his body temperature to drop continuously. He had to move his body to prevent his limbs from stiffening at the crucial moment and ruining his plans.

The area where he was hiding was very well concealed, located at the junction of two birch trees and a thicket of bushes. Thick snow had piled up here, forming a snowdrift that completely hid him. He could not be found unless you got very close... However, the cold wind blowing through him did not provide any protection and repeatedly assaulted his body, while the snow beneath him continued to steal his heat.

He wasn't lying there to suffer—the boy had spent a whole week scouting the herd's movements, and he was certain those big, furry creatures would come here today to dig through the snow and nibble on the remaining grass beneath... They, like him, were creatures struggling to survive in this cruel winter.

The wolf pelt wrapped around his body was the only thing in their tent that could keep them warm and alive. At night, it was used as a blanket, but now it was draped over his body for hunting. The wolf pelt had long lost its wolf smell due to the smoke and fire and long-term use, and he had even wiped it several times with kot grass.

His only tools were a short bow and a short knife about half an arm's length to his right, and only three arrows, which he had painstakingly carved from birch branches, with arrowheads that were even roughly made of bone... but they were enough to pierce deerskin and bring him a harvest.

The cold and numbness constantly gnawed at his limbs; his skin stiffened, his joints became numb and sluggish, like a venomous snake crawling up his hands and feet, bringing a deadly chill along the way. All he could do was occasionally stretch his legs and feet, extremely careful to relax his limbs. He remained stubbornly unwilling to leave.

He knew he might freeze to death here, but he also knew that if he failed, he and his mother would starve to death in their own tent... Rather than suffer the torment of starvation and die, he would rather continue to gamble in the snow on that tiny possibility—that he might be able to hunt a reindeer today.

His bow was poorly made, like a clumsy toy. After all, the craftsmen in the tribe who knew how to make bows had long since starved to death, and his father hadn't even had a chance to teach him before being beheaded by the imperial people in the south...

To ensure sufficient power, he layered many sinews on it, making it as stiff as a twig when drawn. He only had a chance at extremely close range. At any greater distance, his broken bow would surely miss the target, so all he could do was fight desperately, nothing more.

The damned chill always clung to his fingers, making him feel as if his palms were no longer flesh and blood, but rather frozen tree branches that would shatter at the slightest touch. He could only warm them by occasionally reaching into his clothes.

To make the bow less stiff to draw, he also tucked the strung short bow into his bosom. If the bow tip snapped, it might even break his jaw, but the boy couldn't care less. He remained calmly desperate as he observed the snowfield outside, hoping that the herd of gray-white deer would appear there.

His eyebrows were covered with a layer of white frost, and the hair on his forehead was frozen onto his face. The snot that was flowing down his nose had already partially frozen before it could even get into his mouth. His consciousness was becoming increasingly blurred, forcing him to pinch his thigh hard! He had to pinch it until it swelled up and bled in order to keep his attention.

"Moo! ... Moo!"

A deep, melodious sound reached his ears, causing him to tear off a layer of skin from his leg with his fingers. He quickly perked up, raised his head, and forced his eyes, which were almost frozen, open to look at the snow-covered ground that had just been calm and still. A herd of reindeer of various sizes with forked antlers had appeared there, pawing at the snow under the trees... There was always more grass here.

A surge of excitement injected a powerful stimulant into his heart, and he immediately roused himself to observe carefully. A kind of vengeful compensatory mentality led him to focus his attention on the lead, strong buck—thick fur, plump and robust, its four hooves almost as big as horses' hooves, capable of carrying a person, its large antlers with more than twenty branches, and it was now warily raising its head to look around, wary of predators like gray wolves nearby.

But he quickly abandoned the idea—the strong buck, though thick-furred and meaty, could be hunted down and survive until spring. However, he knew very well that his broken bow would hardly kill the strong creature, and he might end up with nothing but starvation at home.

So, in his practical and ruthless way, he shifted his target to the nearest young doe, silently reaching into his robes to grab the short bow, while his other hand slowly began to draw an arrow from the snow beside him.

Suddenly! The lead stag turned its head warily toward him, startling him so much that he almost stopped breathing. He didn't even dare to think about what would happen next, and lowered his gaze in utter terror, desperately praying that he wouldn't hear the panicked hoofbeats of the herd. His hands and feet felt warm from the sudden change, washed over by the surging blood.

Time seemed to drag on endlessly. He both anticipated what would happen next and feared the possible sounds, until he could no longer hold his breath and stiffly raised his head.

At first glance, relief and joy filled his heart—the herd of deer remained unchanged. The lead stag turned its head with some doubt but eventually gave up its suspicion and began to dig through the snow with its hooves to nibble at the grass sprouts underneath.

The pounding of his heart, which he could no longer suppress, almost burst out of his chest at that moment. He forced his fingers to remain calm and slowly pulled out the arrow beside him, nocking it onto the string of the short bow, which was woven from ox sinew and leather.

The most difficult part is yet to come—he must crouch down inconspicuously to draw the bow. Any slight movement during this process will cause these sensitive creatures to turn and flee.

He half-squatted up from the ground—a simple action that usually required no breathing—but at this moment, he slowed it down a thousand times. The muscles in his waist were stretched like leather strings in the biting cold, and all the joints in his body moved with difficulty, requiring careful consideration of every single movement.

Finally! He had achieved his goal, and with a terrifying, almost intoxicating elation, he began to slowly draw the bow. He made the bow arm, made of sinew, horn, and wood glued together, obey his will, gather strength, and slowly retract the bow with the sharp arrowhead made of cow bone.

Finally, before the second breath, his fingers naturally loosened, and the birchwood arrow shaft, which he had straightened with fire, sank into the fur in the blink of an eye. What followed was the squeezing out of the gaps with crystal-clear hot blood and the frightened screams of wild beasts.

With a thud, all the hooves started moving, as if by some kind of instinct, kicking up a cloud of snow dust from the ground, and disappearing into the end of the jungle in the blink of an eye, leaving only messy hoofprints on the ground to prove that he had not been dreaming.

The fur of a young doe, still struggling on the ground, was mostly stained red by the snow. The translucent snow powder was a pleasing pale red. His arrow had been broken... but the boy didn't care anymore. With his heart pounding, he stood up abruptly and shook off the snow from the wolf skin he was wearing.

He drew the dagger from his waist, then staggered forward and plunged it into the mother deer's chest. He immediately lowered his head and drank the hot blood gushing from the wound, letting the sweet blood nourish his body.

The scalding liquid immediately roused his stiff limbs. Without daring to delay, after drinking his fill of blood, he quickly peeled off the deer hide with a knife. Then he broke the steaming venison into pieces and piled them on the deer hide.

To quench his thirst, he stuffed the still-beating heart into his mouth and chewed it to a pulp, like biting into an apple. He swallowed every last drop of the remaining blood, and at the same time, he quickly packed the venison into a bundle, tied it to his back with a leather rope, and left without daring to stop for a moment.

He knew very well what this blood would attract... predators far more dangerous than himself.

..............................

Torid exhaled a deep breath of white air. Deadly frost had covered his hair and eyebrows, making him look like an old man with a full head of white hair. Even his warhorse was exhaling large puffs of white air and stamping its hooves uncomfortably, wanting to get away from the ice as soon as possible.

This is a meadow covered with a thin layer of ice. A cold fog, appearing out of nowhere, enveloped the area in the early morning, turning it into a terrible terrain. Even the strongest and most agile warhorses could break their legs here. They should get away from here as soon as possible.

But he didn't move, so the people behind him didn't move either. Tori dismounted with great interest, squatted down, grabbed a smear of red snow from the ground between his fingers, smelled it, and then looked up into the distance—the red bloodstains continued to spread into the distance, interspersed with crooked footprints.

"This smells like deer blood... Let's go take a look."

He didn't explain why he did it, and the people behind him didn't ask either. The group of 15 rode forward at full speed through the dangerous area, and not one of them fell off their horse.

Snowflakes swirled into their hats, whitening their eyebrows and beards, leaving their freshly oiled faces feeling numb and stinging. They quickly traversed a short distance and soon spotted a bright fire ahead, simultaneously hearing the howls of wolves and the boy's desperate screams.

Their horses crossed the high slope and saw in the distance a small cave formed by several huge rocks, as well as the burning firewood at the cave entrance and the menacing wolves all around.

A thin boy stood at the entrance of the cave, holding a short knife that was only half the length of his arm, guarding his life and his prey... But what truly made the wolves wary was not the ridiculous knife in his hand, but the firelight created by the burning wood—now that firelight was visibly weakening, lacking fuel and unable to continue.

"He's a ruthless bastard."

Torid gave his assessment with a calm expression, but did not urge his warhorse to make any further moves, as if watching an interesting drama.

"Should we do something, Khan?"

"Don't rush, let's see what this kid is capable of."

………………

The charcoal fire in front of him was burning on the verge of collapse, and he had run out of fuel to throw in... The boy licked his dry lips; the taste of deer blood still lingered in his mouth. Behind him was the fresh meat wrapped in deer hide.

If he were to leave this meat to the wolves… the thought almost uncontrollably arose in his mind, but he firmly suppressed it—this meat was not enough to satisfy the wolves, they would not let him go, and besides, he was destined to starve to death without this meat, so why not just let the wolves bite him to death? At least he would die a quick death.

He silently wiped the knife in his hand on his sleeve again and again, trying to calm himself down while quietly waiting for the embers to burn out... wondering if he could kill one before he died.

Finally, the last flame died out in the crimson charcoal, quickly turning gray in the cold wind. The strongest alpha wolf at the front could no longer wait and, with several other male wolves, slowly approached him. The sharp teeth protruding from its lips were constantly grinding with the movement of its jaws, its gray fur bristled, and its amber wolf eyes gleamed with hunger.

He sniffed, licked his lips, and swallowed the mixture of snot and blood, putting the salty, fishy substance into his mouth. He then smacked his lips and gave a regretful look.

"Next time you should bake it thoroughly before eating it. You ate it too fast and didn't get to taste the flavor..."

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Chapter 301 has been revised. Please refresh the page to see the chapter. I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience caused by the author's oversight ('⌒`。). Updates will resume normally afterward ('?ノ｀*)ノ

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303 Torid and the North (2)

"Roar! Roar roar roar!"

With a terrifying growl that sounded like something was stuck in his throat, a powerful male wolf lunged at him with all four limbs, its hardest part, its head, at the forefront, its mouth full of teeth as sharp as ice particles, eager to tear flesh apart... Once bitten, the powerful creature would frantically shake its head and pull at its limbs, tearing off a large mouthful of flesh along with bits of tendon.

His hand swiftly retracted, causing the wolf's sharp teeth, aimed at his wrist, to miss their mark. Immediately afterward, his left hand shot forward, digging his thumb deep into the wolf's dim, yellowish eye, drawing blood and a clear, sticky substance... but that was all. The knife in his right hand had barely pierced the flesh. The wolf jerked back, forcefully escaping his grasp.

But this still made the wolf pack retreat slightly out of fear... In this cold season, no wild beast would want to get hurt, as that often means weakness and death. The big male wolf was already furious and completely enraged. One of its eyes was a bloody hole from which blood was flowing. It was about to charge forward again without regard for anything else, but was stopped by the howl of the alpha wolf, which just rubbed its sharp teeth five steps away from him.