Penguin_Laze

"In a world where power determines everything, the most dangerous weapon isn't a sword... it's knowing what happens tomorrow."

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Cast aside by his own noble family, Vaerik Tudor finds himself exiled to the merciless Northern Province—a frozen wasteland where most are sent to die.

No magic. No special bloodline. No legendary weapon.

Just when death seems certain, something unexpected activates: a mysterious Daily Intelligence System that provides him critical information about the future.

[As the sun rises tomorrow, a dead god's massive body will break through the ice-covered lake, with its heart somehow still beating, pulsing with the ancient power of winter itself.]

[One young wolf, fiercer than all the rest, fought and defeated every other cub in the red valley territory, becoming the new leader of the entire pack.]

[Nearly forty battle-scarred giant wolves are right now creeping through the valley to the southeast, with muscles ready to spring and teeth ready to bite, planning to take over your land when night falls.]

[A never-ending wave of walking dead bodies will soon swallow up every country on this land mass, with the human race barely surviving—for every million people alive today, only one will remain.]

[A runaway princess from the northern tribe has fled to the red valley lands, but weakened by starvation and freezing temperatures, she has collapsed unconscious in the barren wilderness and will be eaten by a giant white bear before sunset today.]

While southern nobles drown in their politics and pleasure, Vaerik is building something unprecedented in the frozen north. A domain where slaves become free citizens. Where barren wasteland transforms into fertile fields. Where loyalty is earned, not demanded.

But the north holds ancient dangers...

Frost dragons shriek dominance above his impenetrable cold-forged bulwark.

Frost giants patrol the mines containing precious magical marrow. Barbarian tribes plot revenge against imperial invaders. Religious zealots hunt for heretics. And an unstoppable threat looms on the distant horizon that could consume the entire continent.

Winter is coming, and this storm will eventually engulf the entire continent. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.

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Warning: Contains fortress-building, territory management, strategic battles, hidden talents, and a protagonist who rises from forgotten exile to become the most feared lord in the north. For fans of kingdom-building, strategic progression, and war.

Rise of the Northern Warlord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Vaerik led everyone into the magical marrow factory, immediately hit by pungent alchemical odors.

He raised his hand in greeting: "Good morning."

In the corner, Hilco, sporting heavy dark circles under his eyes, listlessly raised his head to glance at the detestable slave master.

"My lord, good morning." His voice carried a trace of complaint as he casually handed over a fist-sized crude ceramic jar.

Vaerik took the heavy jar. Its surface looked plain and simple, with a linen cloth strip inserted at the mouth—appearing crude as if randomly shaped.

Hilco lazily explained: "Don't judge by its ordinary appearance—inside are all dangerous materials.

Magical marrow, ice-armored bear crystal fragments, tinder grass—all packed in.

The power is considerable. Of course, given more time, I could make it more refined with stronger power."

Final Trump Card