Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 285 Cutting Off Anger

The corpse cracked open its charred shell, overflowing with bright red vines and flesh-colored petals, like some kind of morbid greenhouse spreading wildly across the battlefield.

The vines coiled around the dead monsters, snapping their neck bones, and their roots burrowed into the knights' wounds, digging deep into their flesh, as if using corpses to incubate rage.

Wounded beasts howled and fell to the ground, only to rise again instantly, nourished by the red mist, their eyes bloodshot, their steps faster and more ruthless than before.

The fog engulfed the charging knights, blurring their figures but amplifying their killing intent.

Those who should have stopped in their tracks under the wounds, flames, and arrows now roared and charged toward the high cliffs where the hidden crossbowmen and snipers were positioned.

Louis observed the scene coldly through his monoculars.

He had long known from daily intelligence reports and the Duke's letters that this monstrous legion possessed a strange ability: the dead could grant the living amplified power.

But when he witnessed this insane charge that disregarded all harm, he was still momentarily surprised.

That wasn't courage, but a frenzy of being forcibly dragged onto the battlefield by death and rage.

It can increase one's strength four or five times and completely eliminate fear.

But his expression remained calm. He simply raised his hand slightly and ordered the soldiers behind him: "Reload all the Frostbite Soul-Shattering Bullets."

Several knights specializing in heavy firepower immediately took action, opening the heavy iron lockbox and taking out short, stubby projectiles with blue magic patterns engraved on their surfaces and a faint black light emanating from their centers.

They were quickly loaded into short-barreled launchers, flashing against the inner metal walls.

The lever was pulled down, and a deep, resonant sound boomed into the air.

One by one, the projectiles trailed eerie blue arcs as they plunged into the thickest cloud of blood mist at the bottom of the valley.

This is no ordinary magic explosion bomb. It is the ultimate weapon that Louis had Hilko personally craft after learning the weakness of "Scorching Vine Garden" - the Frostbite Soul Shock Bomb.

It uses the crystal core of a Soul-Eating Lizard, which is polished into an oval shape by an alchemist and inlaid with a tiny rune array. The explosion releases a strong mental shockwave that directly strikes the emotional center of the brain, instantly extinguishing all anger.

Moreover, it contains a frost vine leaf liquid sac, a medicine sac that is easily cracked at low temperatures. When it bursts, it releases a cold mist, and the powder seeps into the blood, quickly suppressing the secretion of adrenaline and rage hormones.

Of course, this thing has never been tested in actual combat, and even Louis wasn't sure if it would work.

Until the moment it hits the ground

boom! ! !
The blue shockwave exploded in the valley like an invisible meteor. The sound was not an explosion, but a deafening roar that could tear your nerves apart, as if someone had blasted a war drum inside your eardrums.

The air suddenly compressed, and even the red mist was forcefully pushed aside by a circle of transparent ripples.

Within a 50-meter radius of the blast center, the movements of the barbarian soldiers and magical beasts all froze.

Their eyes, like candle flames blown out, suddenly dimmed from crimson to stagnant water; their facial muscles lost their expression; their weapons were half-raised in the air, and they even forgot to maintain their balance.

A galloping warhorse lost its momentum mid-air and fell to the ground like a rag doll with its strings cut.

The next instant, the cold mist, like thousands of sharp ice needles, burst forth from the epicenter, penetrating every breath and every inch of exposed skin.

The touch was bone-chillingly cold, yet it carried a strange numbness.

It's like the adrenaline has been forcibly turned off, and the anger has been extinguished by an invisible hand, replaced by a deep-seated emptiness.

“…Uh?” A barbarian knight uttered a low, confused sound.

The mental impact of the Frostbite Soul-Shaking Bullet severed the emotional connection between him and the Scorching Vine Garden like a sharp blade.

The anger vanished instantly, leaving only the raw instinct for survival in his consciousness, an instinct that needed an immediate outlet.

Before he could even distinguish friend from foe, the spear pierced through the familiar trajectory of his attack, disappearing into the nearest body clad in vine armor.

Even if it's a comrade-in-arms who charged alongside you.

Chaos spread like wildfire.

Many more knights lost their sense of self after their emotions were shattered, blindly swinging their swords, blocking, and roaring.

The roaring war beasts and giants, as if their spines had been broken, lowered their voices, their limbs tensed, and they dared not take another step forward.

Their eyes were no longer filled with the raging flames that tore everything apart, but instead weighed down by the frost, making them hesitant, timid, and even fearful.

At that moment, the killing tide at the bottom of the valley seemed to be frozen solid by the cold blue light.

Looking at the enemy troops fighting amongst themselves at the bottom of the valley, Louis couldn't help but smile.

Upon receiving the intelligence, he immediately instructed Hilko to begin manufacturing this magic explosive bomb.

Before this, he had never truly faced the berserker of the Scorching Vine Garden, nor was he sure how useful it really was.

And now the answer has been written in the blood of the barbarians at the bottom of the valley.

The magic bomb was like a deathly kiss tailor-made for these monsters, severing their rage and causing them to crumble in fear.

This made his excitement surge like a flame.

After all, that hellish scene was the result of his meticulous calculations step by step.

It feels just as good as getting the exam questions a few days in advance.

However, he knew very well that the opportunity to fight was fleeting, lasting at most only a few dozen seconds.

The power of the crimson mist is weakening, but the roots of the vine garden are still spreading wildly. If this drags on any longer, the living vine wall will devour the entire defensive line.

Louis immediately concluded that heavy weaponry was necessary.

So, more than fifty steel beasts simultaneously emerged from both sides of the valley and the valley entrance, appearing on the battlefield.

Clad in cold iron armor, the raging bull emerged from the snow, its breath spewing white mist, its hooves thundering like war drums, pulling the Crimson Tide Territory's specially made heavy armored combat platform.

The chariot's magic steel frame was covered with heavy armor, and the piercing hook spears extending from the side gleamed coldly in the firelight.

Archers were already in position in the firing ports on both sides of the vehicle, their magic explosive projectiles and flamethrowers ready to fire.

Each steel beast was flanked by a squad of about twenty Red Tide Knights, providing cover on the left and right flanks.

Their mission was clear: to eliminate any remaining enemy forces and protect the tanks from close-range destruction.

Of course, the first priority is to protect oneself, and the second is to protect the combat platform.

At the very front, Red Tide Legion Commander Lambert led the charge.

The black-armored warhorse spewed white mist, its hooves clattering like war drums. He raised his spear high and charged directly into the carnage of crimson mist and flames.

The roaring steel bull dragged the chariot at breakneck speed, its iron hooves crushing vines and flesh, the splashing blood instantly turning into steam in the scorching flames.

The treacherous hooks on the sides of the chariot extended and retracted continuously, lifting the barbarian cavalry's war beasts and riders into the air.

The knights charged in close to the chariots, advancing along the gaps torn open by the hooked spears.

The spear pierced the barbarian's armor with precision, and then the sword was drawn to swiftly cut down the fallen enemy.

At that moment, the roar of fire and iron drowned out the screams, and the crimson tide swept across the entire valley entrance like a tidal wave.

However, the crushed barbarian corpses did not immediately fall silent.

Once the flesh strengthened by the red mist falls, its skin swells and cracks within seconds, splattering flesh and bone fragments to reveal dark red vines as tough as steel wire.

The vines grew wildly, clinging to the armor plates of the steel beasts. At their ends, fleshy flowers unfurled tentacles and serrated teeth, spewing a corrosive and suffocating mist of blood. On past battlefields, these would have been enough to turn most warhorses into scrap metal.

But today, their fangs have gnawed at the cold iron.

Each of the Iron Beasts' vehicles is forged from the highest-grade cold iron ore reserves of the Crimson Tide Territory.

The cold nature suppresses the corrosiveness of the red mist, and its toughness is enough to withstand the full force of a battering ram's blow.

Thus, the blood mist condensed into dark frost marks on the surface of the cold iron, but failed to corrode even a single pit.

The vines climbed onto the vehicle body, only to get stuck in the gaps of the thick armor, and were subsequently crushed into dust by the wheels and chain teeth.

The flesh-and-blood flower rushed to the vicinity of the flame vent, but before it could even close its petals, it was blasted to death by the high-pressure flames.

Undeterred, the Steel Beast launched a counterattack with a sea of ​​fire. The front and sides of the chariot opened fire simultaneously, and blazing blue flames shot along the vines, burning large patches of flesh and blood into charred fragments.

The knights, armed with fire-scale oil bottles and flamethrowers, finished off the remaining blades, igniting the acrid smoke which was then dispersed by the fierce wind.

Amidst the firelight, Lambert commanded: "Advance in stages! Chariots crush the enemy lines, knights provide fire support, second wave pushes forward!"

The steel beasts surged like iron waves, crushing the unburnt corpses and vines. Knights weaved through the gaps, rekindling fires and finishing blows, clearing everything away cleanly.

The second echelon then took over to reinforce the position, making the entire advance line as solid as an iron wall, giving the enemy no chance to regroup.

The barbarian warriors who should have fallen convulsed violently under the influence of the red mist, their adrenaline surged, their muscles swelled instantly, and their skin tore open and oozed blood.

His pupils dilated into narrow, beastly eyes, and his breathing turned into a low, guttural roar.

These flames meant nothing to them; they were no longer capable of feeling any pain.

A berserker with a broken leg, like a beast whose chains have been broken, pounced on a Crimson Tide Knight.

"Ahhhh——!"

The spear pierced his chest, but his bloodied hands still gripped the shaft tightly. With a yank, the knight, armor and all, was dragged into the thicket of vines.

The next moment, the barbed vines tightened like whips, twisting the two of them into a vortex of flesh and blood.

On the other side, a berserker warrior with his back ablaze suddenly leaped onto the steel beast, hooked his bare hands onto the flame-breathing port, and dug his ten fingers into the seams of the metal plates, making a piercing tearing sound.

Until a magic bomb detonated just an arm's length away, blasting him into a bloody mist.

The outer knights roared and formed a steel shield wall to withstand the berserker's charge.

The heavy crossbowmen calmly fired through the gaps between the shield walls, and the magic-exploding arrows exploded into patches of bloody fireworks among the enemy ranks.

The steel beast swung its hooked spear, its axle grinding through the mud, flinging away the approaching barbarians, and then finished them off with a final blow from its fire-breathing vent.

These frenzied offensives did indeed keep the knights of the Crimson Tide Territory busy, forcing their lines to retreat slightly several times, and even briefly entangled several chariots.

But thanks to their solid defenses, skillful coordination, and the cover provided by the Iron Beasts, they steadied themselves and turned every attack into a funeral for the enemy.

Except for a few unfortunate soldiers who were dragged away by the vines, most of the Crimson Tide Knights remained safely in the ranks.

However, not all counterattacks were effectively stopped.

From the depths of the crimson fog came heavy, slow footsteps, like war drums beating underground.

A massive, almost monstrous black figure emerged from the blood mist.

It was Carlos, still alive on this hellish battlefield, his double-edged axe held across his shoulder, the blade still dripping with undried blood.

A crimson mist enveloped his entire body, causing his muscles to bulge and his skin to be stretched and cracked, from which dark red blood seeped out, like molten lava gushing from a crack in a rock.

With each breath, his chest swelled rapidly like a bellows, and the hot breath he exhaled carried a sweet, metallic smell of blood.

His crimson eyes shone blindingly in the smoke, like candles lit by hellfire.

The act of raising the axe created a visible shockwave, and the air was sharply sliced ​​apart the moment the axe blade fell.

"Boom!" The steel beast's thick side armor plates were smashed inward, and the metal twisted and groaned.

Before the other party could react, Carlos suddenly flipped his wrist and ripped off a piece of armor plate covered in scraps of iron. He then flung it at a knight not far away, causing the knight and his shield to roll into the blood.

The next blow met the hook spear head-on, and the metal arm shattered like a dry branch under his brute force, spraying out oil that splattered onto his bare shoulders and back like a fresh layer of blood-red battle paint.

He let out a low growl, snapped the broken spear shaft in two, and casually plunged it into the chest of a knight who was trying to approach.

The vines were crushed under his feet, and mud and blood were kicked up like splashing crimson waves.

Behind him, dozens of elite berserkers followed closely.

Their skin was wrapped in layers of dark vines, the ends of which burrowed directly into their flesh, writhing as if a living creature were sucking them from within.

Each time the slashes tear open their bodies, blood spurts out, and vines quickly extend and intertwine, forcibly sewing up the wounds and even pushing new chunks of flesh out of them.

They were like gods of slaughter who had sprung from mythology.

The first berserker ran head-on into a "steel bull," whose flames scorched his face, but he ignored them.

The next second, the giant axe swept across, and the beast's head, along with half of its neck bone, was cleaved off, drawing an arc in the air with scalding blood before crashing to the ground.

Another berserker rushed to the side of the Iron Beast's compartment, tore a crack in the armor with his bare hands, and used his ten fingers to cut open the door as if it were paper.

The knight operator inside had just raised his sword when a giant hand grabbed his helmet and dragged him out by the neck, then cleaved him down with an axe blade.

Blood splattered all over the sides of the chariot, and the heat turned into a layer of scarlet mist in the cold wind.

The battlefield was instantly engulfed in blood and fire, with screams, roars, and the cracking of metal blending together.

The outer cavalry formation was forced to retreat, the shield formation was breached, and the gap, like a bloody gash torn open by a ferocious beast, rapidly widened along the battle line.

These berserkers, trapped in the crimson mist, had long lost their minds. Rage burned within them like a raging fire, driving them to tear and crush forward, almost disregarding any tactics or defense.

This makes them not only fierce, but also more easily manipulated and induced.

Just then, Louis's order was transmitted across the battlefield through the sound of horns: "Ride fast! Take them away!"

Several lightly armored knights charged out in response, circling around Carlos and his elite troops, hurling bursts of crossbow bolts, provocatively appearing and disappearing at the edge of the red mist, enticing them to roar and chase after them, away from the main battle formation.

As soon as the formidable enemy entered the pre-set firing range, the steel beast's firing ports flashed simultaneously.

Bang!Bang!Bang!
The magic bombs were fired in unison, and the shockwaves from the explosions created wave after wave of crimson mist, with flames and bits of flesh tumbling through the air.

Flames from the sides of the chariot spit out flames, instantly igniting the berserkers who charged forward, while heavy crossbow bolts pierced their chests one after another.

Carlos's wounds were being stitched up by vines, but the scorching flames and the shock of the explosions gradually slowed his movements, and his heavy breathing sounded like a boulder pressing on his chest.

He raised his axe and charged forward again, but was hit head-on by a magic explosion bomb, the impact of which made him stagger backward.

The crimson mist dissipated from his body, his knees buckled, and he collapsed heavily to the ground.

He raised his head unwillingly, his eyes still burning with the undying flame of hatred.

However, the next moment, the Iron Beast's heavy crossbow bolt pierced his heart.

Carlos crashed to the ground, his battle axe rolling several times in the mud before finally coming to a stop.

(End of this chapter)