Knight Lord: Start with Daily Intelligence.

Chapter 452 The Perilous Valley of Memories

The entrance to the Valley of Memories is not a typical canyon, but an unusually wide clearing in the forest, embraced by twisted, pale giant trees. The trees here have bizarre shapes, their thick branches reaching towards the sky like stiff, giant arms, their bark covered with damp, pale moss, like solidified amber from countless years ago.

In the center of the open space stood several ancient statues, heavily weathered and carved from some kind of black rock, their faces blurred, their postures distorted, exuding an unsettling silence.

Deeper still, the fog is so thick it's almost tangible, and light vanishes completely, leaving only an eternal, chilling darkness. Legend has it that stepping into that darkness causes roads to bend on their own, time to become disordered, and travelers may even glimpse their own past reflections moving through the fog.

This is the fantastical Black Pine Forest that the White Bone Merchant Nayadarin Frostwood once introduced to Su Li, and it is also Old Jasper's biggest goal on this trip.

But now, this once desolate and dangerous place is filled with the presence of many living people.

In the shadows of the twisted, pale giant trees at the entrance, behind the base of the enormous black statue, and beneath a thick layer of musty, rotting leaves, pairs of sharp eyes were peering through narrow observation holes at the single entrance path, protected by the giant trees.

Their gleaming golden armor was covered by a gray robe, which obscured their light. Their breathing was suppressed to a minimum, and even their heartbeats seemed to be frozen.

They were an elite ambush force led by Hilde, the high-ranking steward of the Black Forest Territory—30 Sun Goddess battle priests most skilled in ambush combat and tactical strategy, more than 180 knights, 5 druids and emerald mages, and more than 200 halflings equipped with poisoned armor-piercing crossbows and Salya's holy water.

These halflings were specially brought by Hilder. They wore halfling leather armor that allowed them to become invisible, and used crossbows tempered with holy water from the golden holy water bottle of Sharya. They were highly skilled in forest warfare and were the main force in this battle. Hilder brought nearly two companies.

Hilder herself lay prone in a hollow within the roots of a twisted, giant tree, her position offering a clear view of the entire entrance area. This head steward, known for her calm and efficiency, now wore an expressionless face, her taut lines revealing an icy focus in her eyes. Her armor was also camouflaged, and the renowned Alaric Beast Slayer sword hung at her waist.

Time seemed to stretch out in the darkness here. Only the mist flowed silently, and occasionally, a few mournful cries, indistinguishable as birdsong or the murmurs of the dead, drifted from afar. An invisible pressure permeated the air, originating from the collective dream of ancient souls deep within the valley, forcibly bound and teetering on the edge of life and death. It was a cold whisper, a mixture of endless war, longing for their homeland, and the despair of a long wait, directly eroding the sanity of the living.

“Master,” a servant almost blending into the shadows of the tree roots whispered, “the babbling of the ‘rock people’ in the valley is getting stronger… several brothers are starting to hallucinate.”

Hilde's eyes remained unchanged, she simply nodded slightly. She knew about those so-called "Rock People"—a group of pitiful people who tried to record the dreams of the dead in the valley, only to be consumed by collective madness. Their very existence was a source of spiritual pollution.

"How effective are the mental protection runes?" she asked, frowning. Su Li had long known that these night-roaming zombies would use feints to launch surprise attacks on the Valley of Memories, so he had already mobilized a large number of mental runes to provide special protection for the soldiers.

With Thrall's Spellweaving Workshop, a 6th-ring wizard in the territory, now in operation, Flashspear City is producing a large number of rings and amulets every day. By changing the core runestones, one can gain a high level of immunity to specific types of magical energy.

This amulet had always been paired with Ingrid's amulet, creating a high-low combination. However, for the battle of Memory Valley, the amulet was specially modified into a mental protection amulet to prevent the soldiers from being mentally corrupted.

But it is clear that even with early preparation, it is still very difficult to move forward in the perilous Valley of Memories.

“The runes the priests have cast can still hold on, but they’re draining us. We can only hold out for another half a day at most before we have to retreat and rest, otherwise…” The servant’s voice trembled slightly.

“It won’t take half a day,” Hilder’s voice was cold and firm. “The target is almost here. Tell everyone to prepare the first wave of ‘greetings’.”

Just then, a wave of cold, viscous negative energy, carrying a strong aura of decay and death, suddenly emanated from the depths of the dense forest outside the valley, like a stone thrown into a stagnant pool! The feeling was as if countless cold maggots had instantly crawled all over everyone's skin!
coming!

Almost simultaneously, several figures silently emerged from the impenetrable shadows at the valley entrance. The leader was tall and imposing, his entire body covered in decaying heavy armor, and two deep purple flames of soul fire deep within his helmet emanated like a gaze from hell—Mhawa!

Behind him were undead messengers of various forms: the elusive Binders emitted the aftershocks of their spiritual shrieks, the Lich holding a skeletal staff had ghostly green flames flickering in his eye sockets, and the massive Abomination Stitches took heavy steps, each step causing the ground to tremble slightly.

They surrounded a withered figure, wrapped in a heavy, light-absorbing cloak—Old Jasper!

This elite undead core force, like venom seeping from the darkness, silently surged toward the entrance to the Valley of Memories.

Just as Mhava's steel boots were about to step onto the edge of the clearing guarded by the pale giant trees—

hum!
A low, buzzing sound, like countless people whispering at the same time, suddenly arose! It didn't come from any one direction, but seemed to come from all directions, from the soil beneath their feet, and from the surrounding tree trunks at the same time!

This wasn't even a trap set by Hilder, but merely the perilous natural environment and manifestations within the Valley of Memory.

The effect was immediate! The fleeting bound spirits writhed violently, like fish thrown into boiling oil, emitting silent screams! The will-o'-the-wisps in the lich's eye sockets flickered wildly!
Liemhawa's deep purple soul fire flickered violently deep within the helmet, like a candle flame being blown by a gale.

The sudden, murmuring emanating from the valley itself, carrying fragments of chaotic dreams and spiritual pollution, violently assaulted his will as an ancient undead. His massive body swayed slightly, his heavy boots carving two deep furrows in the moss-covered, slippery ground before he could barely steady himself. Behind him, the bound spirits and liches fared even worse, their forms twisting and undulating, emitting silent, agonizing screams.

Old Jasper's withered figure was tense beneath his cloak, his crimson eyes warily scanning the clearing embraced by the pale giant trees. The valley's natural dangers far exceeded his expectations; this first wave of "greetings" had already cost him the soul links of several low-ranking undead servants—they had suffered mental breakdowns while muttering incoherently, turning into wisps of black smoke and vanishing.

"Stay calm! Stay focused!" Old Jasper's hoarse, soul-piercing scream suppressed the chaos within the group, his voice laced with impatience. "Mhawa! Dispel distractions! Lich, detect life and traps! Death Knight, clear the way! We don't have time to waste here!"

Mhava silently raised his massive battle axe, which was wreathed in negative energy resembling black thorns. The deep purple runes on the axe blade suddenly lit up, and a cold, pure force field of will, carrying the bloody aura of an ancient battlefield, spread out from him, forcibly dispelling some of the chaotic murmurs surrounding the group.

The ghastly green flames in the lich's eye sockets stabilized, and he began to chant softly. Invisible undead detection ripples swept across the black statue in the center of the clearing and the area shrouded in thick fog deeper inside.

A black knight clad in heavy runic armor let out a deep roar and strode heavily onto the relatively flat area in the center of the clearing, attempting to clear a path for the group behind him.

Just as the Black Knight's heavy footsteps passed the pedestal of a weathered statue—

"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"

A barely perceptible whooshing sound emanated from the shadows beneath the roots of several twisted giant trees! Those were deadly halfling crossbow bolts! Coated with holy water from Sharya's golden holy water bottle, they contained a potent life force, inflicting exceptionally severe divine damage on enemies of the death element.

Puff puff!
Several blowguns struck the Black Knight's thick, powerful thighs with pinpoint accuracy. The golden holy water of Sharya smeared on the arrowheads immediately unleashed a terrifying effect, accelerating the decomposition of the undead creatures and causing the collapse of the dark magical energy that had been binding them.

"Roar—!" The Black Knight's massive body stiffened abruptly, letting out a roar a mixture of pain and rage. Thick, foul-smelling gray-green smoke instantly billowed from the struck area, and rotting muscle peeled away rapidly like melting wax, revealing the decaying bones beneath! Its movements visibly slowed and became unsteady. "Enemy attack! From the roots of the giant tree on the left!" A lich immediately locked onto the source of the attack, sounding the alarm with a soul-piercing shriek.

Mhawa's deep purple soul fire suddenly turned in that direction, and the massive battle axe swept across with a piercing shriek that tore through the air! A dark storm of negative energy swept out, instantly shredding the fallen leaves and low shrubs in that area into dust!
However, when the dust settled, the place was deserted. Only the afterimages of some halflings remained, testifying to the attackers' presence. The halfling ambushers were as slippery as goblins, striking and retreating in an instant, disappearing into the shadows of the giant tree's tangled roots. But due to the characteristics of the Valley of Memory, the undead could also see the images left behind just minutes before.

This small oversight led to terrible consequences!

"You despicable insects!" Old Jasper glared menacingly at the afterimage and said ferociously, "Then you'll pay the price!"

With a sudden, sharp clench of his withered claws in the darkness, there was no incantation, no energy fluctuation, only the two eerie lights in old Jasper's crimson eye sockets suddenly blazing, like a bleeding abyss!
"Ugh—!"

Several short, shrill screams, almost inhuman, suddenly erupted from different locations in the shadows of the roots of several twisted giant trees! The sounds were filled with extreme pain and the despair of being forcibly ripped from life!
Suddenly, several halfling ambushers, who had been perfectly concealed among the intertwined tree roots and the layer of fallen leaves, were suddenly "pulled" out of the shadows as if by an invisible giant hand! Their small bodies convulsed violently, their faces drained of color, and their eyes bulged out, filled with unbelievable terror.

A dense, almost blinding life essence, like blood mist sucked up by a powerful water pump, gushed wildly from their eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and even every pore, transforming into several scarlet streams of light that hissed across space and instantly disappeared into the palm of old Jasper's withered claws!
Pfft!Pfft!
Several completely desiccated corpses, resembling mummies weathered for hundreds of years, collapsed to the ground, even their cloaking leather armor losing its luster and becoming gray and tattered. Life was snatched away in an instant, leaving only empty shells.

The entire ambush site fell into a deathly silence. The only sounds were the low growls of the dead and old Jasper's satisfied, bone-grinding breaths.

Hildegard's pupils contracted to pinpoints in the tree hollow! For the first time, her cold, sharp eyes showed a violent fluctuation. She stared intently at the instantly shriveled corpses, her knuckles turning white from gripping the hilt of Alaric's Beast Slayer sword so tightly. Even through the disguise and distance, the attendants and priests behind her could feel the terrifying chill of that instantaneous death, a cold shiver creeping up their spines.

“Night-wandering corpses…” Hilde’s voice was forced out through clenched teeth, tinged with unprecedented gravity, “As far as the eye can see… life taken away… the intelligence was correct…”

She finally witnessed firsthand the most terrifying ability of the legendary leader of the Night Wandering Corpses—any living being whose soul strength was insufficient and whose gaze was locked onto by him would have their life essence forcibly extracted and used as his nourishment!
"Master! The 'Goblin' Group Three... completely wiped out!" A trembling voice, barely suppressing its horror, came from beside her.

"Maintain concealment! Absolutely no eye contact with the target!" Hilder's voice instantly turned icy, and she gave the order decisively, "Priest team, activate all mental shields and prepare to deal with the mental attack!"

The order was relayed swiftly. The ambush team members suppressed their fear and activated the special runes inscribed on their armor linings or amulets, hoping to gain some possible protection.

"Hmph, a few annoying flies." Old Jasper absorbed the few strands of pure life force, and a strange "rosy" color seemed to return to his withered face. His scarlet eyes swept contemptuously over the direction of the mummies, then he ignored them. "Keep moving! Don't let these rats delay our important business!"

Mhava silently swung his battle axe, and a dark storm of negative energy swept forward once more, completely obliterating any potential traps and lingering signs of life. After a brief pause, the group resumed its advance into the churning fog deep within the valley. This time, the ambushers fell into complete silence; not a single arrow was fired.

Passing through the suffocating core fog zone, the twisted path finally led them to a relatively "open" area deep within the Valley of Memory. This place resembled more the area beneath a vast cavernous dome covered by countless twisted, pale tree roots. The air was thick not only with the stench of death, but also with an ancient, heavier resentment and bitterness.

In the center of the cave stands a larger and relatively better-preserved obsidian statue than the others. It depicts not an elf, but an extremely robust, muscular dwarf! The dwarf's eyes are wide open in fury, his massive stone warhammer raised high, seemingly about to smash down on some unseen enemy, but the movement is forever frozen in the moment before the strike. The statue's details are incredibly lifelike; even the texture of the beard and the cracks in the armor are clearly visible, filled with a poignant sense of power and rage eternally imprisoned.

The statue's base is not made of rock, but rather forged from countless broken elven weapons and shattered dwarven armor, forming a profane and twisted "trophy display stand." Scattered around the base are fragments of metal, weathered but still recognizable as dwarven.

"Found it!" Old Jasper's withered voice became shrill and piercing with excitement. His bloodshot eyes were fixed on the dwarf statue, his greed almost overflowing. "The spoils of the War of the Longbeard! The soul of the dwarf ancestor captured by the elves and nailed here! A... a soul core powerful enough to sustain thousands of years of resentment without dissipating!"

He suddenly glided forward, his withered claws extending and pressing down on the cold, hard obsidian statue.

Om-!
A roar of the soul, far more violent and furious than the whispers of the valley, erupted from within the statue like a tangible shockwave! The roar was filled with a deep-seated hatred for the elves, rage at betrayal, and an eternal resentment at the inability to exact revenge! The entire cave trembled, and dust cascaded from the roots of the pale giant tree!

"Stubborn rock shards! Still restless after being dead for so long!" Old Jasper roared fiercely. His withered body trembled slightly under the impact of the soul's roar, but his scarlet eye sockets shone with an astonishing light. The gem at the top of the bone staff, which he gripped tightly in his other hand, though extinguished, now began to greedily absorb the violent energy of resentment!

"Mhawa! Suppress it!" old Jasper commanded.

Mhava's towering figure took a step forward, his heavy boots sinking deep into the ground. His deep purple soul fire burned fiercely, and a deathly pressure, originating from the same ancient battlefield but colder and purer, pressed down like an invisible giant hand on the roaring dwarf statue!

Two powerful soul wills clashed fiercely inside the obsidian statue! The angry roar of the dwarven ancestor was like a trapped beast, full of defiance, but under the overwhelming death will of Mhavana and the greedy absorption of old Jasper's bone staff, the violent soul fluctuations began to be forcibly suppressed, stripped away, and guided!
Visible to the naked eye, the viscous and fiery essence of souls, like molten gold, mixed with a thick crimson resentment, began to seep out in strands from the cracks in the obsidian statue and the weapon remnants on the base, like attracted iron filings, surging wildly toward old Jasper's bone staff and his withered claws pressed against the statue!
Old Jasper let out a satisfied hiss, like a viper flicking its tongue. His withered body seemed to swell slightly under the infusion of this powerful soul essence, and his scarlet eye sockets shone brightly!
“Power…ancient and pure power…” he murmured in ecstasy, feeling the immense soul power originating from his dwarven ancestor warriors being forcibly transformed into nourishment for his undead essence. This was his first major gain from his deep exploration of the Valley of Memories, far exceeding his expectations!

Mhawa stood like a silent reef, resisting the final counterattack of the Soul Roar, buying time for his master to draw strength. The other undead messengers around watched this scene in awe, their soul flames flickering uncertainly.

Meanwhile, in the distance, Hilde, who was secretly observing this scene, had an extremely grave expression. She could feel the terrifying fluctuations of the soul power being forcibly extracted. Old Jasper was using the deepest resentment in this valley to strengthen himself!
"The target is absorbing core soul energy! Energy fluctuations are rising violently!" she growled to a swan knight beside her. "Notify the lord! They've begun accessing the elven relics! We need reinforcements! Immediately!"

A torrent of molten gold-like, fiery soul essence flowed into the bone staff and withered claws, causing old Jasper's emaciated body to visibly replenish itself, as if dark golden magma was flowing beneath his decaying skin. He was greedily devouring and transforming the immense resentment and power originating from the dwarven ancestral warriors.

"Not enough! Far from enough!" Old Jasper's bloodshot eyes burned like fire, his hoarse voice carrying the exhilaration of a satiated feast and a deeper greed. He abruptly ripped the bone staff from the statue, and the gem at its tip, which had previously been extinguished, now resembled a miniature, boiling, dark golden sun, radiating terrifying energy fluctuations that sent chills down one's spine! Under the infusion of this ancient and pure soul power, the upper limit of his dark magic was forcibly raised by a significant margin!

But that's not all!
As the last wisp of soul essence was extracted, the massive obsidian dwarf statue let out a mournful, resentful cry that seemed to come from the depths of the earth, and collapsed with a deafening roar!

Amidst the billowing black dust, a blurry phantom of a dwarf warrior, composed of pure dark golden energy, struggled and roared in agony! Standing three meters tall, its outline vaguely revealed bulging muscles, a flowing beard, and its iconic massive warhammer, but it was no longer made of flesh or rock, but rather a berserk soul forcibly bound, twisted, and infused with pure negative energy by old Jasper!

The oppressive aura emanating from this phantom was already approaching the level of Mhawa, and even faintly touched the threshold of legend! Two golden flames, stained with darkness and filled with pain and rage, burned in its empty eye sockets, and each silent roar caused the surrounding air to distort and vibrate!
"Hahaha! Another chosen warrior! No! A near-legendary prospect!" Old Jasper let out a maniacal laugh like an owl, his withered claws reaching out to grab the roaring dwarven phantom! "Come here! Become my servant!"

Invisible dark chains instantly entangled the struggling heroic spirit, forcibly dragging and compressing it, eventually condensing it into a powerful dwarven infernal messenger wielding a giant axe.

“Master…this power…” a lich reverently transmitted his spiritual energy.

“Power? This is just the beginning!” Old Jasper felt the surging power within him and the powerful messenger before him. His crimson eyes greedily gazed into the depths of the cave at the churning, seemingly all-consuming, inky fog. “The core of the Valley of Memories! The final resting place of the elves! There, lies the true power that will grant me immortality and allow me to reign supreme! Let’s go!”

His withered figure, shrouded in surging pressure, drifted towards the thick fog without hesitation. Mhava silently followed, his deep purple soul fire seemingly solidifying with the power of its master. The undead ranks, their morale soaring, followed closely behind, disappearing into the inky black curtain that even light could not penetrate.

(End of this chapter)