Chapter 683: Chapter 683 - 389: New Northern Territory and Old North (Part 3)

As long as they could avoid the Red Tide Caravan's gaze, they could maintain that shred of dignity remaining.Sorel did not expose them, just smiled and accepted it.When he left, he glanced back at the gloomy castle, as if looking at an old beast nearing death but still trying to stand up its mane.He came to a harsher conclusion in his mind: these lords were not simply hostile towards Louis, they hated him for showing them their own backwardness.They envied the prosperity of the Red Tide, regretted not joining earlier, yet stubbornly clung to pride, refusing to admit reality.He sat back in the carriage, fingers clenched inside his gloves."This isn't a matter of character. it's a civilizational gap."The Red Tide system was pulling the entire Northern Territory into a new era with silent, irresistible force.And these people could only be left behind, the more they struggled the more ridiculous they seemed.Heading north, Sorel initially focused only on these lords.Gradually, he found that what truly reflected the reality of a land wasn't the feasts, wasn't the castle, but those ordinary people living in the wind and snow.As the carriage passed through the old territory that rejected the Red Tide system, the sight was glaringly hard to ignore.On a winter night, the street was pitch black, not a single decent oil lamp. The wind brought real cold, not warmth resisted by the fireplace.Outside a shabby house, he saw the refuges curled up on the edge of the snowy ground, wrapping themselves in torn burlap sacks.Some were startled, avoiding the carriage, others looked numbly, habitually lowering their heads and hunching their shoulders.Children hid in the corner of a shack, eyes large but without light.Occasionally staring at passersby, as if gazing at shadows that will bring no good news.What made Sorel frown most were those knights.Knights in shabby cloaks charged through the streets, completely disregarding the civilians.Their horses scared the refuges to scatter, a woman forced against a wall narrowly avoided being trampled.Watching this scene from the carriage, Sorel unconsciously clenched his fist."This is the Northern Territory I remember."But moving forward for a few more days, the scene abruptly changed, as if cut from its roots by someone.Entering the scope of the Red Tide system's influence, the night remained cold but was buoyed by scattered lights.Iron stoves burned along the roadside, magic stone lamps hung from wooden poles releasing steady white light, allowing nighttime travelers to avoid stumbling in the dark.Along the roadside, porridge stalls appeared, steam rising at the stall entrance, a few elderly queued to receive hot porridge, with two lazy wildcats at their feet.Further away was a small clinic, a wooden sign painted with the Red Tide's sun emblem.At the door, a medical woman wrapped in a thick shawl was comforting a mother holding a child in a low voice.Sorel stared at these scenes, feeling an unfamiliar confusion sweeping through him for the first time.Children played alongside the street, laughter purer than the snow.