Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 215 The End Mother Nest Heads South
Not everyone is as lucky as Red Tide Territory, having a calm, decisive lord like Louis with an intelligence network.

For example, the Earl of Grant's territory in the North.

This territory is located at a crossroads between Red Tide and Snowfall County, with ice fields and forests interspersed with well-connected roads.

This is the first line of defense protecting the heart of the North, where the Grant family established themselves long ago and ruled as hereditary rulers.

In terms of military strength, the Grant family has a formidable elite legion under its command—the "Frozen Blood Legion".

This is a veteran unit known for its mountain tactics and its soldiers clad in heavy ice-scale armor.

With strict military discipline and a large organization, they conduct live-fire drills around the frozen lake every winter, and it is said that they can maintain their formation even in extreme cold storms.

The garrison headquarters was that formidable rock-embedded fortress.

It is not just a castle, but a giant fortress that is embedded in the mountain and blended into the rock strata.

A poet once wrote exaggeratedly: "If the rock-embedded fortress falls, the northern border can be abandoned."

They call themselves "the Wall of the North".

For many years, they have resisted the northern barbarians and the monsters of the cold lands, and have never truly fallen.

This is the glory that the children of the Grant family have been exposed to since childhood, and it is also the source of all their confidence.

All of this has created a stable prosperity.

The fort was well-organized, with clear distinctions between farmers and merchants, and complete facilities including granaries, foundries, schools, and stables.

Even during the snow season, they can organize temple fairs, hunting competitions, and military parades.

While other territories were still struggling to prepare for famine in the dead of winter, their people were living in relative comfort.

until……

On October 10th, the Grant family home was decorated with lanterns and colorful decorations.

Inside the main hall of the rock-embedded fortress, family banners hang between the high, bas-relief pillars, their silver and dark blue totems fluttering in the firelight.

The fire in the stove was burning brightly, and even the "winter eternal flame," which is rare and is usually only lit for celebrations or weddings.

Today is the coming-of-age ceremony for Elton, the youngest grandson of the Grant family.

The sixteen-year-old boy walked firmly up the steps and took an ancient short sword from his father.

That was a family heirloom that had distinguished itself on the northern frontier, symbolizing responsibility and legacy.

He held his short sword high, his voice still carrying a youthful naiveté, yet unable to conceal its proud tone:

"I, Elton Grant, swear before my family today that I will use this sword to defend the honor of my family and protect the dignity of the North, until my last drop of blood!"

Thunderous applause erupted in the hall, and the clansmen raised their glasses in unison. The elders smiled and praised, "This is truly a descendant of the Grant family."

Meanwhile, no one noticed that outside the main castle, several scout cavalry units had lost contact in the snowstorm.

The city outside the fort was peaceful.

The villagers are busy with the final preparations for winter, and some are bundling dried fish into strings and storing them in the cellar.

Someone brought their worn-out leather boots to the leather shop on the street, where a vendor set up a stall selling salted snow radish and cured meat balls.

At the blacksmith's shop on the street corner, the anvil clanged as an old blacksmith worked hard, forging the arm of a crossbow for snowfields. As he hammered, he chatted with his apprentice: "This year is really strange. The snow was half a month late, and there are fewer wolves... but we can have a good New Year."

In the North City Academy, a group of students were loudly reciting "The Record of the Iron-Blooded Empire" with their teacher.

Those were textbooks compiled by the empire, and their contents mostly praised the central order and the achievements of conquest.

Inside the small temple in the west of the city, an old woman with a full head of white hair was kneeling in front of the incense table, trembling as she lit an old copper oil lamp.

She murmured, "Last night in my dream... the Snow Goddess shed tears..."

Several young people who believed in the Imperial Orthodox Church shook their heads with laughter: "The old lady is starting to chant her old god ramblings again."

"Who still believes in the Snow God these days? Everyone believes in the divine grace of the Dragon Ancestor."

"Yes, the Grant family has protected it well, what's there to be afraid of?"

Their laughter mingled with the children's voices in the snow and the sound of hammers, weaving a peaceful picture enveloped by time.

Suddenly, dark clouds surged across the entire Grant County, like a black tide rolling back, and a cold wind swept down from the north, carrying with it the putrid smell of a foreign land.

The sky seemed to be obscured by some enormous object, and the sunlight dimmed instantly, as if the end of the world had arrived prematurely.

A scout knight hurriedly rode out of the south gate, but before he could even leave the city, he reined in his horse at a bend in the mountain road and came to a sudden stop.

He saw a "wall".

A "wall" made of a mixture of corpses and insect nest resin, more than ten meters high, blocked the entire mountain road.

The skeleton-supported shell is still adorned with fragments of armor, severed limbs, and skulls, and the resin seems to be slowly "breathing" as it overflows.

It was a living "city of corpses".

The messenger knight's Adam's apple bobbed as he murmured:
"...corpses...a city built of corpses."

The next moment, the End Nest emerged from the mist.

It slowly advanced along the main mountain road, dragging a tunnel of insect shells that stretched for miles, every inch of which was filled with unhatched larval sacs.

Boiling fluid dripped from the enormous abdominal cavity, melting the snow into black mud and steaming out a thick, bloody red mist.

The vanguard consisted of swarms of ordinary insect corpses.

These grotesque, deformed creatures are covered in human armor, with twisted limbs, hollow eye sockets, and mouths split to their ears, constantly spewing out burning, highly toxic gastric juices that can corrode metal and rock from a distance.

A troop of insect corpses rushed to the outpost at the foot of the mountain. The soldiers fired their bows and prepared for battle, but before they could fire three volleys, the city wall collapsed with a roar as the gastric juices burned it.

The dark figure plunged into the city, screams, wails, and the sound of tearing flesh intertwined into a symphony of blood and gore.

Someone raised their sword to resist, but was bitten through the spine by an insect corpse that had sneaked in from behind.

Some tried to escape, only to find that the mountain paths were already surrounded by swarms of insects, and the only way out was death.

A young girl hid in the woodpile, covering her mouth to keep from crying out.

She saw the insect-like corpse dragging her mother's body past, the body only showing half a face, still muttering, "Help me...start a fire and cook..."

A young father tried to stop a dead insect from climbing onto the windowsill with a machete, but the insect tore him apart from the neck with a single claw.

Blood splattered on his son's face behind him. The little boy collapsed to the ground and cried loudly, and was immediately discovered by the insect corpses... The entire outpost fortress only lasted for less than a quarter of an hour before it completely fell.

Next are the villages.

The insect corpses that escaped the fortress rushed into the village at high speed, crashing into houses, setting cowsheds on fire, and the alarm bells ringing from the clock tower became a final lament.

Some mothers fled into the forest with their children, but there they were surrounded by even more dead insects.

On the frosty ground, blood stained broken patterns, recording the struggle of life in its final moments.

Meanwhile, in the upper levels of Rock-Embedded Castle, the Grant family's banquet was in full swing.

Inside the opulent banquet hall, the aroma of roasted meat filled the air, silver glasses clinked, and the fireplace burned brightly.

Young Elton, draped in a silver-trimmed cloak, proudly raised his glass to toast his relatives.
Suddenly, a loud rumbling sound came from outside the banquet hall.

That was not thunder, but the resonance of the insect swarm hitting the mountain wall and the retaining wall, like the beating of war drums.

Then came the second and third sounds, getting closer and deeper.

The banquet hall door was slammed open, and a knight commander staggered in, half of his armor melted away, blood flowing down from the gaps.

His face was filled with terror, and he growled, "Enemy attack!! Monsters are coming!!!"

An uproar erupted at the scene. The Earl abruptly stood up, his expression shifting from anger to cold, and immediately ordered: "Close the inner fortress! Mobilize the Frozen Blood Legion, and follow me to the walls to meet the enemy!"

But it was all...too late.

Through the back window of the banquet hall, the mountain road in the distance appeared to have collapsed.

Amidst the surging insect swarm, Earl Grant saw the End Nest for the first time.

It was a terrifying colossal statue, its upper body resembling the Virgin Mary with outstretched arms, but its face was composed of countless tormented human faces pieced together, its eyes tightly closed yet tears flowing like blood, from which swarms of wriggling worms hatched.

Below the waist are swollen, twisted, fleshy ovaries and incubation cavities, constantly spewing out tentacles and offspring.

The aura was like death materializing, mixed with a baby's cry, making one's mind go blank.

The count stood frozen in place, staring at the enormous monster of fallen motherhood, and suddenly realized that this was not a battle, but the end of the world.

A black tide has rolled in from the weakly defended southern foothills, breaking through watchtowers, breaching mountain gates, and destroying the inner city's access bridges, sweeping in like an apocalyptic tsunami.

His eyes widened, and he seemed to hear in his ears the warning given by the messenger sent by the Duke of Edmund months earlier:
"The insect corpses should not be underestimated. They retain their fighting instincts from when they were alive and they will not die. Once the infection begins, it will start with hundreds and spread exponentially to tens of thousands."

At that time, Earl Grant dismissed it with disdain.

After reading the Duke of Snowpeak County's warning letter, he merely smiled faintly and casually tossed it into the fireplace.

“The Duke is getting old and loves to spread alarmist rumors,” he said to his advisors. “My Grant family has guarded the North for a century; do you think we would fear a few alien insects?”

But only now did he realize that what the letter said was not a false alarm, but a real "calamity".

On the morning of the second day before Rock Castle was about to fall, he finally roared and donned his armor, his silver armor covering his body and his frost-patterned cloak fluttering in the wind. Holding the family sword, he rallied the Frozen Blood Legion to launch a final counterattack.

However, the insect swarm is not a savage charge; it is rhythmic, strategic, and aided by the wisdom of the mother nest.

The knights were forced into retreat, the main city was besieged, and the various refuge fortresses were losing contact one after another. The messenger eagle fell from the sky, and the scroll was charred black.

The once proud Grant Line is now like a tile covered with thick snow, ready to crumble at the slightest touch.

Even more bizarrely, some of the captured nobles, knights, and warriors with fighting spirit were not executed on the spot.

They were taken into the End Nest.

The place was an altar made of insect bones, surrounded by thick fog, exuding a corrupt and seductive aura.

A figure slowly rose from the insect swarm.

He wore a blood-red long dress, his long hair cascading down his shoulders like silk threads, but his voice was a hoarse, deep male voice, as if hundreds of souls were murmuring to themselves from the same mouth.

He smiled and ordered the insect corpses to "seal" the prisoners into cocoons one by one.

These cocoons writhed and trembled, and after several hours they burst open, from which new insect corpses crawled out.

Their armor was still intact, their faces were still vaguely discernible, and they even possessed combat skills, as if the deceased had been "replicated" exactly.

Count Grant led his army in a bloody battle, and together with several extraordinary knights, he slew the multi-headed insect corpses, vowing to defend the remaining inner city to the death.

But late at night, he heard a terrified scream behind him.

Looking back, he saw his personal guards kneeling on the ground, trembling all over.

The swarm of insects split open.

Two figures slowly emerged from it—

They were his grandson and second son.

They were clad in tattered knightly armor, their steps slow and stiff, their eyes vacant and lifeless, their jaws split open like deep worm mouths, and a hoarse yet familiar voice emanated from their throats:

"Grandpa...we...are back..."

The count was struck dumb, staggered back a step, and his fingers gripping the sword trembled violently.

"No...it wasn't you...you shouldn't have...!"

The "grandson" even managed to squeeze out imitative syllables from his face and mouth: "...Glory...forever..."

"Shut up!!!"

Earl Grant roared and charged forward, slashing down with his longsword, only to be overwhelmed by the swarm of insects that surged forth the next instant.

He struggled and roared, hacking and slashing incessantly, but eventually he was exhausted and captured.

The witch in red approached slowly, squinting at him as if admiring a piece of jade waiting to be carved.

“A fine specimen… The former Northern Wall? Now it’s nothing more than a malleable empty shell.”

The silk threads climbed up the count's body like a tide, slowly "entangling" him into a huge cocoon.

Finally, a new insect corpse was born.

His back was covered in tattered armor, and the Grant family crest still hung on his chest, but his face was distorted and his eyes were empty.

The final nest hummed in the darkness, the insect swarm rose again, treading on snow and blood, slowly heading south...

(End of this chapter)