Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 225 The Last Trump Card of the End Nest

Louis rode on the Red Tide Warhorse, followed by a procession of hundreds of "strange knights" carrying bottles and jars.

It looks rather comical on the battlefield, but the flamethrowers, explosive canisters, and modified magic bombs on each of them are enough to terrify the insect zombies.

This is not a regular army, but the Crimson Tide Knights, a special attack force of insect zombies.

"Head southeast first, around the valley ahead," Louis muttered to himself, looking at the intelligence reports appearing on the daily intelligence system.

In the past few days, Louis has used the intelligence system to help them bypass several of the main battlegrounds of the insect swarms and successfully approach Frostspear City with almost no losses.

So the group quietly began to move.

There were no loud drums and horns, no fluttering banners, only figures like black streams in the snow moving through the forest, avoiding the main tide of insect corpses, keeping a distance from the large mother nest, and stealthily approaching Frostspear City from the flank.

Fortunately, the outer perimeter had already been cleared by the Dragonblood Legion, and the density of insect corpses dropped sharply.

As long as you stay away from the End Nest and the few large nests that have not yet been cleared, you will not attract a large-scale attack.

In order not to make the "speculation" too obvious, Louis still had his team take down a few batches of insect corpses and a mother nest.

Flames shot into the sky, and the jets roared.

The stench of burning, sourness, and burning insect shells mingled together as the Crimson Tide Knights crushed the insect corpses with their signature "high-temperature suppression tactics," achieving remarkable results and making the surface appearance quite natural.

Just as they were about to pause and make preparations, a rider galloped up, clad in the insignia of a frost halberd, and shouted from afar, "Lord Louis, Viscount of the Crimson Tide! Duke Edmund requests your immediate entry into the city!"

The knight reined in his horse and saluted.

Louis looked at the knights behind him, his tone not harsh, but carrying an undeniable authority: "Come with me into the city. Don't cause trouble."

"Yes, sir!" The crowd solemnly accepted the order.

Horse hooves tread on snow, steel armor clangs.

Dozens of Crimson Tide Knights marched in formation, like a silent, burning torch in the twilight. Their imposing presence was understated, yet it exuded a resolute sharpness.

However, just as they stepped into the outer perimeter of the Frost Halberd, a booming sound and the acrid smell of burning came from ahead.

A mother hive is being breached, and right in the middle of the battlefield is the battlefield of the Empire's strongest legion—the Dragonblood Legion.

They were divided into three groups, with heavy shield infantry advancing steadily, their fighting spirit surging beneath their iron armor.

The two winged knights swept through like thunder, their blades flashing, and the corpses of insects and flesh flying everywhere.

Behind them was a support formation of fire spearmen, whose magical spears ripped through the sky and accurately hit the incubation chamber.

The entire mother nest was dismembered in less than fifteen minutes, its main trunk scorched by flames, black blood gushing out, and endless wailing.

The insect corpse barely had a chance to take shape before it was torn apart on the spot by the combined fighting spirit.

Louis pulled on the reins and watched quietly for a while.

He didn't show any surprise; instead, he looked down at the cavalry behind him.

Each of them was a veteran of countless battles, skilled in using fire-based weapons, and a tactical force capable of "overcoming great odds with small forces".

But now, compared to the army before him, surging like an iron torrent, moving in perfect unison...

The Crimson Tide Knights suddenly appeared rough and weak.

It's not that they aren't strong, but rather that there's a direct difference in their level of skill.

"This...this is the Dragonblood Knights." The knight leading the way, Leno, sensed the change in atmosphere and took the initiative to introduce them.

He raised his hand and pointed to a red-armored figure charging forward, his voice filled with respect: "You must recognize that one... the bravest one at the front, wielding a greatsword and slicing open the back of the Mother Nest... that is your brother, Lord Gaius Calvin."

Louis looked at that figure, which seemed to burn like the blazing sun.

The opponent's battle aura surged like magma, transforming into a blazing slashing domain. With a single sweeping sword strike, even the mother nest's body was torn apart with scorch marks, resulting in a violent explosion.

That was a thermal shockwave generated by top-tier battle qi under extreme compression.

In that instant, even though Louis was a hundred meters away, he could feel the air become thick and hot as if it were being roasted.

He was somewhat shocked, then nodded slightly: "...Is this the power of a peak knight?"

They watched for a short while without delay. The sound of hooves echoed through the snow as the Crimson Tide Knights followed Louis into the west gate of Frosthalberd.

As soon as you enter the city gate, a strong smell of gunpowder hits you.

The snow was already blackened by mud and bloodstains, and makeshift defenses and wounded soldiers' camps were set up on both sides of the street.

The makeshift transport route was filled with wagons hauling wreckage, artisans urgently moving ammunition, and medics running around like the wind; the atmosphere was as chilling as frost.

"Settle them down." Louis dismounted and ordered, "All personnel stand by. No one may move without my command."

"Yes, sir." The Crimson Tide Knights quickly lined up, as neat and orderly as ever.

He draped himself in a cloak and entered the main castle alone.

Deep within the castle, in the makeshift council chamber, the fire was still warm, and scrolls of paper and battle plans covered the table.

The Duke of Edmund leaned back in his chair, weary yet still dignified.

He spotted Louis immediately and frowned slightly. "What brings you here? What happened at Red Tide? How's Emily?"

“It’s nothing.” Louis bowed slightly, his tone calm. “The situation in Crimson Tide Territory and Snowpeak County has stabilized, and most of the main force of the Mother Nest has been drawn to the vicinity of Frostspear by you. I think since the most crucial part of the battle is here, I should come and take a look.”

The duke did not speak immediately, but stared at him for a moment before uttering two words in a low voice: "Nonsense. This is the battlefield for the final battle; what right does a viscount like you have to interfere?"

His words were stern, but his tone was low, as if he were scolding someone, or perhaps testing them.

Louis remained calm and replied without changing his expression, "I didn't mean to steal credit. I just wanted to do what I could."

After a moment of silence, Edmund finally let out a long sigh, as if a weight had been lifted from his heart.

"Sigh, since you're here, stay. The fact that you've managed to hold Snow Peak County together already puts you far ahead of the vast majority of nobles in the Northern Territory."

He put down his pen, his tone tinged with weariness: "The North is in such a mess now, some new forces will eventually have to step forward."

“The Dragonblood Legion will leave, and the Emperor can’t keep his hands here forever. When the Southern nobles come knocking to claim their territory, I’d like to see if you, Louis, can take things a step further.”

He looked at Louis, his eyes no longer holding their usual scrutiny, but instead filled with a subtle expectation.

“My old bones will fall sooner or later,” he said softly, “but if the North can ever rise again… I hope that the one who does it will at least… be a man.”

The firelight reflected the wrinkles around his eyes and illuminated the last glimmer of hope that had not yet been extinguished in his heart.

Louis simply nodded gently, remaining calm as ever: "I wouldn't dare, I will try my best."

The corners of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.

The old duke made a casual remark, but Louis knew very well that what lay behind it was "recognition" and "cultivation".

The northern border is already devastated.

In the Northern Family, many have died or been crippled, and now there are very few who can stand alone.

If the empire is to rebuild its defenses after the war, the emperor will definitely need "new nobles" to fill the vacancies.

As a "new lord" who successfully defended Snowpeak County and organized the most effective resistance against the insect swarm, coupled with his marriage alliance with the Edmond family...

He was already standing in the very center of the stage.

If only there were another decisive battle, a deadly magic bomb, a surprise attack that annihilates the Mother Nest...

This would give them the opportunity to rise to become one of the most important nobles in the North.

This is exactly what I've been longing for.

The snowstorm has not stopped, but the war has not ceased.

Within seven days, the mountain ridges and valleys outside Frostspear City had become a battlefield intertwined with scorched earth and ice marks.

The Dragonblood Knights, like the sharp blade that cleaved the northern borders of the Empire, were cutting away inch by inch from the "blood supply artery" of the End Nest.

Thirteen medium-sized mother nests, along with two hidden false nests, were completely destroyed.

Their attack was like cutting through iron; the heavily armored infantry advanced like an iron mountain, suppressing the front of the insect swarm; and the decapitation knights rode red-eyed warhorses like shadows cutting through the wind, flanking from both sides.

High-level battle aura soared into the sky like flames, intersecting and overlapping with the magic of the sorcerer group, each strike striking the very nerves of the insect hive.

It's accurate to the millimeter, almost perfect.

Everything proceeded as swiftly as a tactical drill, yet it could not conceal the growing intensity of blood and exhaustion in the air.

The Dragonblood Knights are not gods after all.

They are human beings, a war legion forged from flesh and blood and will.

Even the strongest decapitation squad suffers casualties; even the sharpest fighting spirit becomes heavy after repeated attacks.

With their own blood, they tore the area around Frostspear City out of the swamp of insect swarms, creating a pristine land that leads directly to the Mother Nest of the End.

The Endbringer is undoubtedly in dire straits.

But the "mountain" that remained silent amidst the black mist and insect blood never moved.

The End Nest still stands like a false god, as if everything is its sacrificial stage, awaiting the final curtain.

…………

Deep within the final nest, flesh and blood writhe.

It was a hall that seemed to be formed from the wails of the dead and the blood of the dead. The walls were interwoven with writhing intestines and teeth, and milky white incubation fluid dripped from the ceiling. The air was filled with a mixed stench of death, decay, and gestation.

The Witch of Despair sat upon a throne made of twisted human bones and insect shells.

She wore a long, flowing crimson dress, and her skin was pale and translucent, like a sculpted jade statue.

His face was stunningly beautiful, androgynous, with a perpetually enigmatic smile playing on his lips.

But when he spoke, it was a deep, soft, masculine voice, like a whisper of decay and fate being poured into one's ear: "...almost there."

He opened his eyes, and his bloodshot irises reflected countless fragmented images of dying battlefield figures.
The insect corpses were burned, the mother nest collapsed, and the fighting spirit was exhausted.

Everything was clearly fed back into his mind.

"The concentration of death... is about right." He murmured softly, his tone like that of a lover whispering.

The next moment, he snapped his fingers lightly.

Snapped!
The entire End Nest suddenly seemed to come alive, letting out a sharp roar, a mixture of the sound of a baby being torn apart and the screams of ten thousand insects.

Scalp-tingling.

Starting from the core of the sac, a strange crimson light emanated from the depths of the mother nest. That was the "consciousness core" connecting all the insect corpses. Every nerve seemed to be infused with blood flames and began to pulsate rapidly.

Inside the incubation chamber, a large number of dormant insect eggs rapidly expand and crack, and unformed "pseudo-offspring" emerge, resembling viscous blood infants crawling out of hell.

"Let every corpse in this world... become my tongue and tentacles."

A damp whisper came from his mouth, accompanied by the undulations at the bottom of the nest.

“Now, no one can stop this ‘return’.” The Witch of Despair gently licked her fingers, her smile growing even more tender. “Welcome… My final feast is about to begin.”

The "End Nest" has been activated.

The first thing to move was the pair of raised arms.

The maternal arms, outstretched like a holy icon, trembled slightly in the air, and the joints made a twisting "crackling" sound.

Large amounts of milky white incubation fluid dripped from her eyeless face, as if a compassionate deity were weeping.

And her face—that hypocritical face made up of dozens of human faces—slowly rose.

Every wrinkle held a trace of pleading and adoration, and every open mouth seemed to whisper, "Come back... all my children."

Her chest swelled slightly, and the next moment—

"Snapped!"

The entire incubation cavity burst open with a viscous throbbing sound, like the pulsation of a uterus. Countless milky white and blood-red follicles gushed out, hatching as soon as they landed, transforming into unformed offspring that struggled and cried in the blood plasma, emitting chilling infant cries.

Her chest and abdomen suddenly exploded, spewing out large clumps of eggs, some of which burst open in mid-air, splashing out scalding blood and milky white worm embryos, which landed as a writhing nightmare.

The cries of babies rose and fell in the air.

But those were not babies; they were embryos of slaughter, lives reassembled from broken bones.

Every cry seems to stir up fear and regret deep within human instinct.

And in her lower body—that writhing "spider-like base"—it was also fully awakened.

The tentacles, like pillars or skeletons, pierced the earth and were buried deep within the rock strata of Frosthalberd Mountain, frantically devouring all the energy around them like roots of flesh and blood.

Her body slowly rose, dragging a several-mile-long passage of insect shells, the movement producing a wet and rhythmic friction sound, like a tragic reenactment of a giant baby sliding through a birth canal.

The moment the "Mother Nest of the End" awoke, the Dragonblood Knights on the front lines were naturally the first to sense it.
A loud command rang in the knights' ears: "Put on your masks, all personnel in armor—immediately."

The Dragonblood Knights on the front lines did not hesitate; they knew what the order meant.

Everyone swiftly donned their full-face helmets, the visors clicking shut at their throats and sealing themselves airtight with their breastplates.

The filtering array and the flow of battle qi intertwine with each breath, isolating the outside air.

The entire legion seemed to transform into a group of faceless people in an instant.

Then, the earth trembled.

It wasn't an ordinary oscillation, but a deeper, "lower-frequency" resonance, as if the earth's veins were groaning and surrendering.

The rumbling sound, emanating from deep within the mountain, mixed with the churning of some viscous liquid, seeped into one's bones from the soles of one's feet.

The next instant, a pungent smell hit us.

The snow fell above the mother nest, but evaporated upon contact, turning into a black mist that spread like the breath of a mourner.

The knights heard whispers from "another world," as if they were receiving them not with their ears, but with their brains.

A voice trembled inside the helmet: "This is... a curse."

Before anyone could react, the corpse on the ground moved.

Whether it's a knight who died in the snow, the remains left behind by insect corpses, or just a broken arm, a piece of intestine, or a mutilated face.

They all moved.

Driven by some indescribable will, they struggle, wriggle, crawl, and entangle with each other as if summoned.

Some used their severed limbs to climb onto another decaying corpse, some bit the bones and forcibly sewed them up, and some stuffed broken internal organs into the cavity.

They are being pieced together, recombined, and born.

(End of this chapter)