Chapter 62: Chapter 62: Severed Heads
The sack was pulled open.
More than thirty bloody heads rolled to the center of the banquet hall, making a dull "thud" as they hit the floor.
One of the heads had a ferocious expression, eyes wide open, unwilling to die with such injustice.
The air froze instantly, and the entire banquet hall fell silent.
The originally noisy nobles seemed to have been paused, unmoving, staring at the scene on the ground.
Count Fors stared blankly at the pile of heads, his throat moved: "What... what is this?!"
Meanwhile, the smile on Zachary’s face froze instantly, as if he’d been whacked over the head.
He instinctively stepped back half a pace, his face looking extremely displeased.
Louis remained calm, as if he had just brought a few ordinary gifts.
"White Feather Canyon, annihilated the Snow Swearer elite squad attempting to invade the South. All cleaned up, their heads are here."
Zachary snapped back to his senses, gritting his teeth, forcing a sneer: "Just these? A few barbarian soldiers’ heads, is this worth interrupting the Count’s banquet for?"
His tone was aggressive, as if he had caught some kind of flaw.
"Or are you trying to pass off as having some kind of battle achievement with these things and sneak by?"
Count Fors’s face darkened, and he snorted coldly in agreement: "This is no military camp. It’s outrageous to bring some bloody things here to show off."
The surrounding nobles began to whisper, casting doubtful and disdainful glances at Louis.
"Fake, right?"
"The Calvin Family really knows how to put on a show."
Mocking voices arose all at once.
Louis did not explain himself, but merely smiled faintly, standing still.
At this moment, Yorn stepped forward boldly, shouting angrily: "I saw it with my own eyes!
These heads were all taken at White Feather Canyon! They were the elite assault team of the Snow Swearers, clad in heavy armor, their combat power far beyond ordinary enemy soldiers."
He looked at those still incredulous nobles, gritting his teeth to add: "We almost died there. While you’re here drinking and joking, Baron Calvin was staking his life against the Snow Swearers!"
The murmuring died down for a moment, but then quickly resumed.
"Ha, like a hero."
"This act has gone on long enough; time for the curtain to fall?"
At this moment, a gray-haired Northern lord slowly stepped forward.
He squinted his eyes, staring intently at that shriveled head, his expression suddenly changed dramatically.
"This... this head is Haskell!"
His voice trembled, containing a trace of unstoppable excitement and hatred.
"That old hound who hid in the Snow Forest for years, skilled at night raids! Three years ago, he led a night raid that burned half of my estate!"
Another gray-clad noble also cursed in a low voice: "My uncle was beheaded during a surprise attack led by him, our entire family annihilated... this man should have died long ago!"
Hearing the name "Haskell," many nobles in the banquet hall from Snow Peak County changed color.
Some quietly cursed, some gasped, and some even teared up on the spot.
Haskell was not a famed Northern powerhouse, but he was cunning and ruthless, good at night raids and surprise attacks.
For over a decade, he continued to harass the territories of Snow Peak County, known for guerrilla warfare, murder, and arson as if it were routine.
Being so slippery, several encirclements had failed, only making him increasingly rampant.
Could such an old scourge really be dead?
"It’s definitely him... that ugly face, I remember it clearly!"
The Northern lord gritted his teeth, almost delighting in personal vengeance, fixating on that head.
The nobles around, who had initially doubted Louis, fell into silence.
Even Count Fors instinctively straightened, the doubt on his face slowly faded, replaced by a bit of shock.
"Haskell... is truly dead?"
"Was it really this young man’s doing?"
"So young, yet achieving so much!"
The nobles who had been harassed by Haskell now wore complex expressions, a mix of shock, admiration, and even gratitude.
Yorn seemed to have waited a long time for this moment, immediately stepped forward, and shouted loudly:
"Exactly! Louis led the team to raid the enemy, killing dozens, personally beheading Haskell!
The whole process was clean and decisive, refusing to retreat despite injuries!"
His voice grew louder, his tone more impassioned, his exaggerated gestures resembling a spontaneous battlefield reenactment.
"He charged into the enemy lines, cut down three men with a single sword, and dragged Haskell alive off the hillside, a scene I’ll swear I’ll never forget all my life!"
"Yorn." Louis spoke mildly, reminding him.
Yorn immediately shut up, saying no more.
Louis’ face showed not the slightest pride, just a slight smile: "I merely did a bit of insignificant work, unworthy of mention."
The old indigenous Northern nobles looked at him again, with entirely different eyes from before.
No longer with disdain waiting for a laugh.
But seriously, respectfully, even with a bit of gratitude.
On the other side, the Pioneer Nobles from the South also began to whisper.
"This young man really has something up his sleeve."
"Zachary has always said he was a debauched son, and yet..."
Someone quietly glanced at Zachary, then at Louis, a hint of hesitation flashing in their eyes.
Zachary stood on the periphery of the crowd, his expression changing repeatedly.
He could feel that the Pioneer Nobles who leaned towards him were now, quietly, shifting their attention to someone else.
"Damn..." he muttered through gritted teeth, silently clenching his fist.
He hadn’t expected that today’s scene, originally set up for humiliation, would turn into the other party’s solo performance.
And he had become the slapstick clown.
But Zachary did not speak again, only quietly retreated into the crowd, waiting for the next opportunity.
Count Fors appeared both shocked and furious.
He didn’t care who Haskell was, what kind of damage he had brought to the Northern Territory, or how remarkable it was that Louis had wiped him out.
All he knew was that Louis hadn’t saved him face, and instead stole his limelight.
And just as he was about to erupt in anger.
Louis suddenly looked at him, saying respectfully: "Actually, this victory mainly owes to Count’s strategic deployment and intelligence support.
If not for your scouts sent before the battle to warn us, and your command deployment, we wouldn’t have had this beautiful counter-ambush."
The entire room fell silent, the nobles looked at each other.
Count Fors was stunned, his lips parted: "I... I sent what?"
He truly couldn’t recall sending anyone, Louis was even someone he met for the first time.
But as military achievements, glory, admiration from everyone... advantages passed through his brain.
The Self-Memory Modification Technique quietly activated!
In just two seconds.
His eyes lit up again, a smile of gratification appeared on his lips.
His mind filled with memories of "personally dispatching scouts," he could even recall some details clearly.
"Hahaha!" Count Fors suddenly laughed.
"Yes, indeed, it’s my arrangement!" He slapped his thigh, raising his voice with pride, "You didn’t let me down!"