Rise of the Northern Warlord: Starting with Daily Intelligence-Chapter 62: Mockery Turns to Awe

The sacks were pulled open.

Over thirty bloody heads rolled into the banquet hall’s center, making dull "thud" sounds as they hit the ground.

One head had a fierce expression, eyes wide open, dying with unresolved grievances.

Air instantly froze as the entire banquet hall fell silent.

Previously noisy nobles seemed paused, motionlessly staring at the scene on the ground.

Earl Foss stared blankly at the pile of heads, his throat moving: "What... what is this?!"

Zachary’s smile instantly stiffened, as if struck senseless by a blow.

He instinctively stepped back half a pace, face extremely ugly.

Vaerik remained calm, as if merely bringing ordinary gifts.

"White Feather Canyon. Eliminated Snow Swearer elite squad attempting southern raids. All cleared—heads here."

Zachary snapped back to attention, gritting teeth and forcing a cold laugh: "Just these? A few barbarian soldiers’ heads worth delaying the earl’s banquet?

Or are you displaying these things, putting on some war merit show to muddle through?"

Earl Foss’ face was grim as he snorted along: "This isn’t a military camp. Casually bringing bloody things here to show off is too inappropriate."

Surrounding nobles began whispering with suspicious and disdainful gazes examining Vaerik.

"Fake, right?"

"Tudor family members really know how to put on shows."

Mocking voices gradually rose.

Vaerik didn’t argue, just smiled faintly, standing motionless.

Then John strode forward angrily: "I saw it myself!

These heads were all taken at White Feather Canyon! Those were Snow Swearers’ elite assault troops, wearing heavy armor with combat strength far beyond ordinary enemies."

He looked at those still-disbelieving nobles, gritting teeth to add: "We nearly died there. While you were drinking and mocking here, Baron Tudor was risking his life against Snow Swearers!"

Discussion paused momentarily but soon resumed.

"Heh, sounds like quite the hero."

"Acted long enough—time to wrap up?"

Then a white-haired Northern Province noble slowly stepped forward.

He squinted, staring hard at a gaunt head on the ground, suddenly his expression changed dramatically.

"This... this head is Haskell!"

His voice trembled with undisguised excitement and hatred.

"That old dog who hid in snow forests for years, expert at night raids! My estate was half-burned during his night attack three years ago!"

Another gray-clothed noble also cursed quietly: "My uncle was beheaded by his sneak attack years ago, entire family destroyed... this man should have died long ago!"

Hearing "Haskell’s" name, many Snow Peak Prefecture nobles in the banquet hall changed expressions.

Some cursed angrily, others gasped, some even reddened their eyes on the spot.

Haskell wasn’t a renowned Northern Province powerhouse, but he was cunning and ruthless, skilled at night raids and surprise attacks.

For over a decade he continuously harassed Snow Peak Prefecture territories, famous for guerrilla warfare, killing and arson like daily routine.

Being too slippery, several suppression attempts failed, making him increasingly arrogant.

Such an old tumor was actually dead?

"It’s him no mistake... that ugly face, I remember clearly!"

The Northern Province noble said through gritted teeth, staring at the head with almost personal revenge satisfaction.

Surrounding nobles who’d previously questioned Vaerik suddenly quieted.

Even Earl Foss unconsciously straightened, doubt slowly retreating from his face, replaced by shock.

"Haskell... really dead?"

"This kid actually did it?"

"Such achievement at such a young age!"

Nobles once harassed by Haskell now showed complex expressions—shock, admiration, even gratitude intertwined.

John seemed to have waited long for this moment, immediately stepping forward and shouting:

"Exactly! Vaerik led surprise attacks on enemies, killing dozens, personally beheading Haskell!

The entire process was clean and decisive without retreat—even wounded, he never yielded an inch!"

He spoke louder and more passionately, with exaggerated gestures like an impromptu battlefield reenactment.

"He charged into enemy ranks, cutting down three with one sword, dragging Haskell down the hillside—I swear I’ll never forget that scene!"

"John." Vaerik spoke flatly, reminding him.

John immediately shut up.

Vaerik showed no pride, just smiled slightly: "Just did some minor work, nothing worth mentioning."

When Northern Province native old nobles looked at him again, their eyes were completely different.

No longer contemptuous waiting to see jokes.

But serious, respectful, even grateful.

On the other side, southern pioneering nobles also began whispering.

"This kid really has something."

"Zachary kept saying he was a playboy, but..."

Some quietly glanced at Zachary, then at Vaerik, hesitation flashing in their eyes.

Zachary stood at the crowd’s edge, his expression changing repeatedly.

He could feel those pioneering nobles who’d originally aligned with him now quietly shifting attention to another person.

"Damn..." he cursed quietly through gritted teeth, fists secretly clenched.

He hadn’t expected today’s planned humiliation show to become the other’s solo performance.

While he became the slapped buffoon.

But Zachary said no more, his jaw working silently as he swallowed his rage and retreated into the safety of the crowd like a wounded animal seeking shelter. His eyes never left his adversary’s back as he melted into the sea of faces, already calculating, already awaiting the next opportunity for revenge that would surely come.

Earl Foss felt both shocked and angry, the twin emotions warring in his chest like battling serpents. His face flushed crimson with indignation, and his breathing came in short, controlled bursts as he struggled to maintain his composure.

He didn’t care who Haskell was, what harm he’d brought the Northern Province, or how remarkable Vaerik’s elimination of him was.

He only knew Vaerik hadn’t given him face and had stolen his spotlight.

Just as he prepared to explode—

Vaerik suddenly looked at him, saying respectfully: "Actually this victory should mainly be credited to your lordship’s strategic deployment and intelligence support.

Without your pre-battle scout deployment and command arrangements, there wouldn’t have been this beautiful counter-ambush."

The hall fell silent as nobles looked at each other.

Earl Foss was stunned, lips opening: "I... what did I deploy?"

He indeed didn’t remember deploying anyone—this was even his first time meeting Vaerik.

But when military merit, glory, and admiration from others passed through his brain—

Self-memory modification silently activated!

Just two seconds.

His eyes brightened again, lips showing satisfied smiles.

His mind gained memories of "personally deploying scouts"—he could even clearly recall details.

"Hahaha!" Earl Foss suddenly laughed loudly.

"Right, indeed my arrangement!" He slapped his thigh proudly, "You truly didn’t disappoint me!"