Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 183 Brood
The forest was silent, with the fir trees standing like pillars.

Even at midday, sunlight struggles to penetrate the branches and leaves, failing to reach this lifeless, dense forest.

Knights who step into this place feel as if they have entered a sleeping, ancient tomb.

They have been searching this forest area for nearly half a month.

However, nothing was achieved.

No one complained about it, and no one questioned the team leader; they trusted him completely.

Because leading the way was "The Northern Blade"—Vic Granter.

His deep silver armor gleamed coldly, and twenty elite knights from the North followed silently behind him, traversing the desolate forest.

This squad consists of knights personally selected, trained, and led by Vic.

They never relied on their eyes to find the enemy, but rather on Vic's perception to traverse the battlefield, and had already made several great contributions.

But only Vic himself knew that the string in his heart, which had been taut for so long, had quietly begun to tremble.

The clues were cleaned up so thoroughly that it looked unnatural.

The woodland seemed to have been "washed" clean, all perceptible abnormalities were erased, leaving only nothingness.

Even he, without expending his battle qi, could only rely on the slightest clues and traces to explore the way forward.

He wasn't without anxiety either.

Because the longer it takes, the harder it will be to find.

Vic knew this, but he could only suppress his unease and continue to gamble on the correctness of his vague intuition.

But today is finally different.

He found a small, dark brown stain in a crack in the tree trunk.

Vic raised his fingertip and gently touched the sticky residue, then smelled it, his expression suddenly changing.

"Stay close to me, don't fall behind."

"Yes, sir," a young knight replied, his tone steady but barely concealing his nervousness.

Vic lowered his eyes and gently tapped the armor on his neck with his right knuckles.

"start up."

A faint silver-blue battle aura flowed along his meridians, and fiery red lines, like cracks, vaguely appeared under his skin.

The world suddenly changed in his eyes; the colors faded, and gray and shadows intertwined.

He accurately captured the fluctuations in the air, the residual heat on the ground, and the traces of magical backflow.

He surveyed the woodland, stepping into the silent place that ordinary people call "completely unmarked".

“There were swarms of insects here.” He said in a low voice, without any embellishment.

The surface appears intact, but the temperature structure is actually distorted.

The faint but regular aftershocks of corrosion meandered along, as if countless figures had passed through, yet forcibly buried all traces.

“It’s been deliberately cleaned up.” Vic squatted down and placed his palm on the damp soil beneath the dead leaves.

A young knight who had recently joined the party couldn't help but speak up: "But captain, we... can't see any traceable clues at all."

“It’s normal that you can’t see them.” Vic slowly stood up, looking straight ahead. “They have learned to hide, not just in terms of corrosion, but in terms of controlling the spread of the traces of corrosion.”

He turned and looked in the northwest direction.

In the gray world, the faint heat source fluctuation, like ashes, was stirred by the wind, teetering on the verge of dissipating.

"Over there." He said, and strode away. The silver-armored knights behind him followed without hesitation.

No one questioned it.

They followed Vic into the Land of No Trace, heading into the unknown depths of the dense forest.

Night had fallen, and the mist deep in the forest seemed to be stirred by some invisible force, swirling and churning endlessly.

The silver-armored knights moved silently, their boots treading on fallen leaves and decaying vegetation, moving like shadows through the forest.

Vic suddenly stopped and raised his hand to signal everyone to stop immediately.

The air has changed.

A sticky and pungent stench of decay hit the nose, unlike the ordinary smell of rotting; it was the putrid odor of time.

It was a mixture of dried blood and rust, bitter and fishy smells from ruptured internal organs, and a cold, viscous substance that did not belong to the living.

It's like a cold finger inserted into the nasal cavity, slowly stirring one's nerves, making one feel nauseous yet unable to escape.

Not only Vic could smell it, but everyone else could too.

"The flavor has become stronger," a knight said in a low voice, his tone tense.

The group then stealthily closed in, holding their breath as they moved forward, following the increasingly strong stench of corpses.

They bypassed a section of cliff and collapsed giant trees, and arrived at a narrow opening at the bottom of the valley.

The sight before them caused even the most experienced knights to instinctively tighten their grip on their weapons.

That was a... nest.

Or rather, a temple of evil gods from the depths of a nightmare.

This giant nest is like a living beehive, with a crisscrossing resin structure that nests countless channels and cavities, resembling the dwelling place of some indescribable insect king.

It resembles an unhatched queen egg cocoon, yet it also possesses the characteristics of a womb that nourishes countless corpses.

It is grayish-white, with a moist and soft surface, like skin stripped of all its color. It wriggles in the cold wind, rhythmically swelling and collapsing.

Moist mucus constantly seeps from the surface, filling the slowly wriggling tubular pores, as if more insect corpses are being conceived within.

The entire structure was made of an unidentified resin; its translucent, undried texture seemed to be slowly breathing. It was an insect corpse.

The human corpses that should have been at rest are now being forcibly "reset".

Stripped of their will and individuality, they are left with only a body controlled by psychic powers.

There are also hundreds and thousands of finished products, slowly climbing on the surface of the nest, their movements almost eerily coordinated, devoid of life or stiffness, more like a group of ritual laborers indoctrinated with instructions, completing some ancient and mysterious sacrificial process.

Corpses—human, magical beast, and even the remains of knights clad in tattered armor.

They were carried in batches, lined up quietly, and finally thrown into a cracked "gap" at the bottom of the resin.

Above this nest, hanging high, is a huge fleshy sac—the mother.

The fleshy sac is connected to the nest by multiple wriggling fleshy "fibers" that slowly transport the "sacrifice" thrown in through the slit to the top.

With each movement, the entire nest emitted a low, heart-beat-like sound.

The air seemed to tremble, like a bellows of hell breathing, inhaling and exhaling death and birth.

The most terrifying thing is the human face that emerges from beneath the skin.

Not an illusion.

Each face, like the lingering shadows of a soul pressed beneath translucent resin, is slowly emerging, struggling, and sliding.

Some had faces contorted in pain, their eyes bulging; others had vacant expressions, their lips barely moving as if they were whispering.

One of the photos prominently displays a strange smile.

A smile played on his lips, and his eyes slowly opened, facing directly in Vic's direction.

In that instant, Vic's blood seemed to freeze, his throat tightened, and he could barely utter a sound: "That is..."

He recognized that face.

Baron Halder Brod

A northern nobleman who had met him several times at banquets in Frostspear City, always spoke with a smile and behaved with great manners.

However, he mysteriously disappeared after the war last year, with official reports stating that he was "killed in action and his body was not recovered."

Now that familiar face is embedded in the surface of the mother's body like a relief, with a stiff smile and slightly tearful eyes, as if pleading in a dream... or mocking.

“This thing…” Vic’s voice seemed to seep from deep within his throat.

The twenty elite knights behind him were also completely silenced at this moment.

They are the strongest warriors in the North, each of them having experienced countless bloody battles, with swords and flames etched into their very bones.

But they remained silent. Some took a half step back, some had their pupils constricted, and some had their knuckles white from gripping their spears too tightly.

“Impossible…this…” a young knight muttered to himself, as if trying to use reason to plug the cracks of fear.

"This is disgusting..." The adjutant's forehead was also covered in cold sweat, as if just seeing the mother's body had corrupted his mind.

Vik forcibly suppressed the urge to vomit rising in his throat, his shoulders tense, and a few streaks of fiery red battle aura patterns had appeared on the skin under his eyes.

That's a stress response to excessive suppression of perception.

But Vic remained calm.

He gave a short, low order: "Mark the coordinates, everyone retreat. We can't handle it, we need to request backup."

The deputy simply nodded upon hearing Vic's order and began organizing the evacuation.

Vic scanned the group, confirming that everyone had begun the retreat and was ready to evacuate.

However, the next moment, something unexpected happened.

The swarm of insects suddenly stopped, as if an invisible thread had been instantly tightened.

The insect corpses that had been busily moving around all looked up at once.

Their movements were so synchronized it was chilling, without the slightest unnecessary delay, like a puppet army controlled by a single will.

Then they all twisted their heads at the same time, making a creaking sound as their joints rubbed together, and slowly looked in Vic's direction!

For a moment, the air seemed to freeze.

It wasn't murderous intent.

It was a gaze, a gaze that transcended life itself, as if the entire nest had "identified" him as its target.

The knights of the elite squad are all battle-hardened warriors.

But just as those orderly, pendulum-like gazes fell, everyone felt their hearts pound and cold sweat pour down their backs.

next moment.

The insect corpses all emitted a strange, cracking sound, like bones dislocating or a dislocated cervical vertebra popping.

Then they pounced.

Without warning, without any build-up.

The insect corpses clinging to the surface of the nest detached like a tide, like a collapsing wall of corpses, falling all at once under the guidance of gravity and will!
Then, it deftly tumbled and leaped in mid-air, lunging at the group with movements completely inconsistent with the anatomy of a corpse.

The knights have been drawn into a hunt for the insect corpses!
"Retreat with all your might!! Get the message out!" Vic roared, his voice like thunder, shattering the deathly stillness of the forest.

The next moment, his fighting spirit erupted!
The silvery-gray flames swept around like a storm, stirring up the air currents, swirling up fallen leaves, and forcing the approaching insect corpses to stop for a moment.

The deputy's eyes twitched, as if he had realized something, but he ultimately remained silent.

The team members gritted their teeth, turned around and retreated quickly, without hesitation.

The silver light behind them did not follow, but they could faintly hear the sound of wind tearing.

(End of this chapter)