Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

Lord Louis's chest tightened abruptly.

The next moment, purple mist drilled into his Sea of Consciousness, instantly transforming into countless insect shadows.

The crisp sound of carapaces cracking, the sticky thud of antennae, and swarms of them stared at him coldly.

They chewed and tore, seemingly wanting to swallow everything into their dark abdominal cavities.

Every shriek was like an endless hunger roaring.

This was not mere killing intent, but a desire to devour everything; even his will, memories, and heartbeat were being pulled, trying to stuff them into the blood-filled maw of the swarm.

"—Again!? Why is all this random stuff trying to get into my head!?"

Lord Louis cursed inwardly, his head splitting with pain.

Just as he was about to be torn apart by the sounds, a platinum-white pulsation suddenly lit up in his mind.

The primal heart glowed.

Platinum starlight surged out like a galaxy, instantly spanning the entire void, and alongside it was that wisp of crimson mist from before.

The petals of the enraged flower unfurled in the flames, and the blood vines coiled, not to attack him, but to entwine around the primal heart, like guardians.

The swarm lunged, opening their fanged mouthparts.

White light and crimson flames rose simultaneously, instantly burning through them.

Thousands of insects turned to ash amidst their screams, and their skeletal figures disintegrated in the inferno.

The entire Sea of Consciousness echoed with shattering sounds, but there was no longer the suffocating tearing sensation from before.

Lord Louis watched this contest, suddenly realizing that he hadn't been pushed to his limit like last time.

The cooperation between the crimson mist and the primal heart gave the purple mist almost no chance to breathe.

In just a few breaths, the swarm was completely swallowed, turning into a wisp of embers, which was absorbed and consumed by the platinum-white light stream.

The Sea of Consciousness returned to tranquility.

"Compared to the rage last time, this purple mist is much weaker," Lord Louis thought to himself.

Perhaps this was just a remnant wisp of its will, too weak to truly tear apart his mind.

Lord Louis had just caught his breath when the world before his eyes suddenly collapsed again.

Before he could react, his consciousness was torn by a torrent, abruptly swept into an unfamiliar riverbed.

Some memories that were completely not his, carrying the scent of blood and fire, slammed into his mind.

Flames suddenly ignited.

Under the shadow of a giant dragon, the city turned into a sea of fire.

Chains dragged countless humans, their cries and roars all drowned out by the earth-shattering dragon's roar.

The Primordial Mage stood among the crowd, his eyes bloodshot, staring intently at a blood-stained stone.

The scene shifted; before a snow-swept altar, a man and a woman stood side by side.

Countless residents of the Snow Country knelt at their feet, their foreheads deeply pressed into the ice and snow, as if they truly were ancient gods who had emerged from the ground.

Then, the thunder of iron hooves.

The military banner of the Iron-Blood Empire was planted in the Snow Country, and the knights' lances pressed down like a forest.

Villages burned, women and elders were driven away, and the cries of children were swallowed by the wind and snow, turning into silent despair.

Finally, amidst the flames and ash, the man from earlier knelt alone in the ruins, tears streaming down his face.

Purple mist quietly rose from behind him, spreading like a cold hand, slowly enveloping him.

He did not struggle, merely closed his eyes.

The scenes flashed continuously, as if someone was tearing open several segments of history right before his eyes.

Lord Louis gritted his teeth, no longer being swept away by the torrent like the first time.

He desperately tried to grasp the details of these fragments, wanting to find the truth related to the mists and the primal heart.

Unfortunately, they still disintegrated in an instant.

He could only desperately cling to these four scenes, like grasping a few withered leaves from a raging torrent.

Lord Louis suddenly opened his eyes, finding himself lying in the tent in the canyon, his clothes soaked with cold sweat.

The heaviness in his body remained, but deep down, there was a vague, indescribable power brought by the purple smoke. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

He subconsciously clenched his fists, feeling this power.

If someone were to attack him at this moment, the residual power of that purple mist seemed capable of converting damage into energy, becoming his new support.

The death and wreckage on the battlefield would subtly nourish him, making him calmer and stronger amidst the bloodshed and chaos.

If he suffered a fatal injury, his body would automatically accelerate healing, stopping bleeding and recovering faster.

And in an environment littered with corpses, his presence would be exceptionally distinct, becoming the core of the momentum.

These thoughts were not deductions, but rather innate instincts, naturally emerging in his mind.

Lord Louis focused, but a cold glint appeared in his eyes.

"—The more power like this, the more it signifies war."

At least for now, he did not wish to test these abilities.

Lord Louis closed his eyes, recalling those four shattered scenes once more.

The barbarians kneeling before the altar did not look like they belonged to this era, but rather like lingering shadows from ancient times.

He suddenly remembered the murals described by the knight, which also depicted two figures shrouded in strange mist behind them.

The Broodmother and the Rage-Burning Thorns Garden were probably connected to those two individuals.

And what did those Imperial knight orders represent?

"I should be able to scout something from the ruins, and I need to re-examine the history of the Old Snow Country," Lord Louis secretly noted.

The curtain was suddenly pulled open, and Lambert strode in, his expression somewhat anxious.

"Lord Louis, you're finally awake."

Lord Louis looked up and said calmly, "How long have I been unconscious?"

"Less than three hours." Lambert breathed a sigh of relief, then asked, "Sir, how do you feel? The doctor checked you; it's just pure fatigue."

Hearing Lambert's reply, Lord Louis quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

Last time he had slept for ten days; this time, perhaps because the purple mist was much weaker than the crimson one, and with the platinum starlight and crimson mist side by side, he hadn't fallen into a deeper sleep.

Lord Louis nodded, saying lightly, "It's probably because I've been too tired lately—the rumbling from underground stirred things up, everything went black, and I collapsed."

Lambert nodded, but wasn't truly relieved.

This was the second time. The last time was during the final battle with the barbarians.

Lord Louis looked up, seeing the unease in Lambert's eyes, and he smiled slightly: "Don't worry, compared to last time, this doesn't even count as unconsciousness. I was just too tired."

Lambert was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice: "I'm still worried, my lord."

"I understand." Lord Louis shook his head, changing the subject, "How are things? How's the aftermath being handled?"

Lambert immediately straightened up and reported: "Everyone has withdrawn to the camp and is awaiting your instructions. Several knights were wounded, but thankfully, no one was killed."

"Very good." Lord Louis nodded, his brow still furrowed, "Send people to investigate the explosion site again tomorrow. No need to take risks tonight."

He paused, then added: "As for the Magic Bomb—have Silco and the others speed up improvements to the barrel. The range needs to be further, and the power must be completely controllable."

Lambert responded in a low voice: "Understood."

The next morning, as dawn was just breaking, Lord Louis set off with the knight squad.

The knights were fully armored, their visors closed, and the sound of hooves was particularly muffled in the snow-covered canyon.

Lord Louis rode in the middle, turning back to ask, "Silco, last night's explosion—what do you think?"

"The power—far exceeded my expectations, leading to misjudged distance." Silco pushed up his goggles, unable to suppress the tremor in his voice, his eyes faintly gleaming with excitement.

At this moment, the air was still filled with a scorching scent; lingering gunpowder smoke mingled with the cold wind, giving off a pungent burnt smell.

The frozen ground beneath their feet was cracked into countless faults, strewn with rubble and debris.

The ground ahead had collapsed into a giant crater, as if a meteor had struck, and the ice layers at the edges were all shattered, spreading radially outwards.

The canyon walls were even more shocking.

Thick rock layers were scorched with large black marks from the intense heat and shockwave, as if licked by fierce flames.

Sharp fissures extended to the horizon, and residual snow slid from the cracks, falling into bottomless dark pits.

Lord Louis reined in his horse, silently gazing at the scorched ruins.

This was the power of the third-generation Magic Bomb.

He sighed silently in his heart, but did not let any emotion show on his face.

The knight squad first set up a perimeter around the explosion crater, their eyes sharp, wary of any lurking monsters or residual black mist.

Several knights probed the rubble with long spears, carefully ensuring there would be no further collapse.

The search continued for half an hour until the outer perimeter was confirmed safe, before anyone slowly descended into the pit.

Lord Louis, however, remained hundreds of meters away on higher ground, mounted on his horse, calmly surveying the entire ruins.

Lambert stayed by his side, his expression tense; more than sudden danger, he worried about Lord Louis collapsing again without warning.

They descended slowly in three columns, following the collapsed slope.

"Keep your visors on." The lead knight whispered.

Hearing this, everyone took out transparent visors encased in silver frames from their backpacks. The inner wall of the visor contained a light blue medicinal liquid, which, as soon as it was fastened, seeped into tiny tubes, forming a fine mist that diffused on the inside of the lens.

This was the Frostleaf Vine Purifier, recently perfected by the Red Tide Territory's artisan workshop. It was said that the prototype was personally designed by Lord Louis.

It could temporarily block spores and hallucinogenic gases, allowing them to remain clear-headed even when facing residual black mist from the Broodmother.

"Deep breaths, don't panic." Someone reminded in a low voice. Their breathing echoed muffledly through the visors.

The ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) icy ground beneath their feet was brittle, each step accompanied by a "crack-crack" sound, as if it could collapse at any moment.

The lead knight signaled caution while probing the soil with a seismic spear.

Each thrust sent back subtle vibrations through the spear shaft, used to confirm if the ground beneath was hollow.

Only after several probes confirmed no collapse would they continue their descent.

The faint light of torches and battle aura illuminated the bottom of the deep pit, a completely scorched ruin.

They searched among the scorched earth and soon found scattered insect carapaces, oddly shaped—some like armor, others only palm-sized, mostly charred and brittle, crumbling at a touch.

A few fragments still glowed with a purple luster, emitting a faint, disturbing hum when approached.

"Don't touch it for too long." A knight frowned, pushing aside a fragment, "This thing is dead, but it's not clean."

The squad then took out a sealing jar, provided by the Magician Forest.

The jar was heavy, its inner walls coated with special runes that could slow down the decay or energy dissipation of unknown substances.

Carefully placing a few fragments inside, and after the lid was closed and the runes flickered faintly, it was considered temporarily safe.

Continuing forward, several twisted humanoid remains came into view.

Flesh was torn by the shockwave, limbs stuck to the rocks, arms still retaining vine-like tissue, skulls deformed, full of sharp teeth.

Further ahead were piles of collapsed boulders.

A few surviving stones were carved with complex symbols and grooves, but most had been shattered or eroded, almost unrecognizable. "Remains of an ancient altar," the lead knight murmured, "Can't tell what it looked like originally."

A sweet, putrid smell, mixed with a faint floral scent, hung in the air.

"Residual black mist." Someone immediately tightened their visor, their tone grave.

Several knights' breathing became slightly heavier, but there were no signs of losing control or poisoning. The team quickly assessed: "The aura has almost dissipated; the threat is not significant."

They exchanged glances, a hint of relief in their hearts.

If not for the Red Tide Territory's purifiers, who knew if these auras would have drilled into their minds.

By the end of the search, the knights returned almost empty-handed.

The power of that one Magic Bomb from yesterday was too astonishing; the altar, along with the underground palace, had been reduced to ruins.

Even the stone surface that once bore ancient murals had been blasted to smithereens, its fragments mixed with the scorched earth, long gone.

The squad could only bring back a small number of fragments: charred insect carapaces, twisted limbs, shattered stones.

All of these were placed in sealing jars and cautiously presented to Lambert.

"Lord Louis." Lambert took one of the jars, and seeing the insect carapace through the faint glow, his expression tightened.

He couldn't mistake that form; it was almost identical to the remains left by the Broodmother back then.

His brows furrowed deeply, and the worst thought surfaced in his mind: could the remnants of the Broodmother still be hidden deep in the Northland?

But Lord Louis, standing beside him, knew in his heart that the purple mist had been purified by the primal heart within him, and the Daily Intelligence System also indicated that the Despair Witch was dead.

However, Lord Louis couldn't say any of this out loud.

He could only let Lambert worry on his own.

Yet, Lord Louis, standing beside him, simply received the report calmly.

Insect carapace remains, inactive.

Monster limbs, similar to human structure, confirmed to be contaminated.

Altar stones, severely damaged, difficult to identify.

Faint black mist residue in the air, but no direct harm.

The investigation's conclusions were not unexpected.

Lord Louis secretly regretted that all clues had been destroyed by the explosion, leaving nothing more to pursue.

Lord Louis took one last look from above, suppressing all lingering questions in his heart.

Whatever the truth of that mist, at least for now, the most important matter for the Red Tide Territory was in the south, at the port that would lead to the sea.

"Leave a few people to continue the investigation, the rest of you fall back." He ordered, his expression unwavering, "There's nothing left here worth staying for. Let's go."

Everyone responded, then began to withdraw.

The team turned through the canyon, the thunder of hooves echoing as they majestically headed south.

The canyon gradually returned to deadly silence, with only the scorched deep pit standing quietly, like a massive scar, reminding everyone that the power of the third-generation Magic Bomb was enough to level anything.