Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 290 Louis vs. Titus
At dusk in Burial Valley, the wind and snow lashed against our faces like shards of iron, carrying the scent of blood.

Louis looked down at the battlefield from high above the canyon, his gaze sweeping over the inferno of red and white snow.

He had known the outcome of today's events several days earlier through his daily intelligence system.

Duke Edmund will launch his final offensive here... and fail.

So, he risked leaving the defenses of Crimson Tide Territory vacant, bringing with him two hundred carefully selected elite knights, hoping to change the already predetermined outcome.
They traveled day and night without rest and still managed to make it.

Of course, Louis was also well aware that even if he committed all two hundred men, they would only be swallowed up even faster.

But he brought not only these two hundred knights, but also weapons to quell the fury that the Northern Alliance lacked.

These knights all wore rage-resistant potions and frost-leaf masks formulated under his personal supervision, and carried high-purity cold breath mist canisters on their backs.

They even carried a limited number of Frostleaf Concentrated Bombs and Frostbite Soul-Shaking Bombs, which were unique and powerful weapons that the Northern Alliance could not produce at all.

It was invented by Louis based on intelligence provided by the daily intelligence system and continuously improved in battle; it was a weapon specifically created for the Scorching Fujiwara.

Of course, once on the battlefield, Louis did not immediately order his troops to rush in, because the battle was too large and these weapons had to be used at the most critical moment.

What can truly change the outcome is not a reckless, desperate fight, but breaking the enemy's backbone at its strongest moment.

So all two hundred men he brought hid in the shadows of the canyon, waiting for the signal.

Their presence was invisible to the coalition forces.

For the enemy, it is an invisible sword hanging over their head.

The roar of the battlefield continued, and Louis could even see Duke Edmund leading his army to fight against the frost giants and the raging vine beasts.

The crimson fog grew thicker, the air seemed to be soaked in scorching blood, the warriors' roars became distorted, and even the clanging of steel sounded mad.

Finally, that moment arrived...

Titus, who had fallen from the giant's shoulder, unleashed a concentrated, furious crimson mist.

Even Duke Edmund's figure was affected by the red mist, and his body began to stagger slightly.

Louis's pupils suddenly contracted, and he raised his hand and waved.

"All teams, fire!"

A series of muffled booms echoed through the valley as the condensed version of the Frostleaf Vine's magic bomb transformed into a silver-blue mist, tearing a gap in the red mist.

The aura was cold and pungent, yet it could sever the spiritual resonance of the angry flower like a blade.

At the same time, two hundred elite Crimson Tide knights, at Louis's command, lashed into the edge of the battlefield like a crimson lightning bolt. The sound of their hooves thundered in the blood and mud, and the wind they stirred up sliced ​​through the crimson mist like a knife.

Instead of engaging the enemy head-on, they maintained high speed while riding, circling around the heart of the battle in a semi-circular arc, and occasionally launching light Frostbite Soul-Shattering Bombs to stop the vine monsters from getting close.

All riders had special sprayers attached to their waists and the sides of their saddles, which continuously released a cloud of icy blue mist as they rode at high speed.

The mist carried a chill and the bitter fragrance of herbs, and wherever it went, the red fog dissipated as if it had been crushed.

The knight, who had been eyeing the enemy with lust just moments before, clutched his head and wept, as if waking from a nightmare.

The knight, driven to madness, abruptly stopped wielding his long blade. Tears blurred his vision as he gasped for breath, his reason slowly returning.

Of course, these are people who haven't fallen too deep into this trap; those barbarian knights who are terminally ill are beyond saving.
The Crimson Tide Knights' route was extremely precise, avoiding the most intense battle areas while covering the largest possible area of ​​crimson mist.

The figures sped along, intertwining like a tapestry, as if using cold blue threads to forcibly sever the boiling madness on the battlefield.

As the chilling blue mist of the Crimson Tide swept past Edmund, it felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head.

The violent whisper was abruptly cut off, and breathing became clear again.

He looked up through the billowing smoke and saw the Crimson Tide Flag fluttering in the distance. That splash of red, in this world dyed red by the angry flowers, gave him a jolt.

It's Louis!

But there was no time to think further; Titus was right ahead.

Titus stood in the center of the battlefield, his entire being resembling a terrifying idol sculpted from blood vines and raging flames.

Angry flowers bloomed on his back and the top of his head, their petals trembling slowly as if breathing.

Thick, blood-red vines snaked down from the limbs, tearing the tattered armor into sharp blades. The dark red veins gleamed in the cold light, writhing like living creatures.

His eyes were already completely filled with rage, devoid of any human emotion, driven only by the burning will of Fujiwara.

At this moment, he was no longer Titus, but a weapon forged from rage, possessing even the speed and power of a high-ranking peak knight.

His movements were unsettlingly bizarre; each strike was not delivered by the force of his arm, but by the simultaneous lashing of several blood vines like steel whips, accompanied by a shrill whistling sound as if the air was being torn apart.

Eight extraordinary knights and Duke Edmund formed an iron ring, but were forced to retreat step by step with every breath, as if swallowed up by a blizzard from all sides.

An elite Cold Iron knight with a shield attempted to approach and block his flank, but the thick shield blocked his path like a city wall.

Suddenly, the blood vines beneath Titus' feet exploded, their thorns piercing the snow and sending the knight flying several feet.

The heavy armor shattered in mid-air, leaving only a mixture of blood and snow upon landing.

Seeing this, Edmund roared in anger, and his giant hammer, carrying lightning, slammed towards Titus's head.

The blood vines instantly intertwined to form a dome-shaped vine shield, and the shockwave from the hammer blow caused the surrounding snow to collapse.

As the vine shield shattered, Titus drew a vine spike with his other hand and threw it straight at Edmund's throat like a spear.

Edmund could only block with the handle of his hammer, his hand throbbing with pain. He used the force to land and immediately charged at him from the left and right with two extraordinary knights.

The "Flame Spirit Slash" on his left flared with intense light at his waist, slicing charred cracks into his rattan armor.

The "Wind Fang Slash" on the right wing sliced ​​through half of the shoulder armor, splattering a liquid mixed with flower petals and flesh, and filling the air with a strange sweet fragrance.

But he did not retreat at all. Instead, he roared like a wild beast, and the petals of the angry flower trembled violently. A circle of crimson shock wave spread out.

The three knights were thrown to the ground, their painful screams emanating from within their armor, as the crimson mist began to erode their sanity once more.

The eight riders launched a fierce attack, but they were unable to corner him.

His movements were like a combination of a wild beast and a vine, completely irregular and unpredictable, his strength and speed pushed to inhuman limits by his rage.

The blood vines beneath their feet were all-pervasive, as if they wanted to drag anyone who approached them into a vine-flower purgatory.

This battle was not like besieging a barbarian warrior, but a life-or-death struggle against a killing plant with a soul.

Just when everyone thought Titus's attention was firmly held by Edmund and the eight extraordinary knights...

But at a certain moment, he suddenly stopped his attack.

Those empty eye sockets, filled with angry flower petals and gleaming with a crimson light, slowly turned towards a spot on the outer edge...

That was exactly where Louis was.

The surrounding knights were all stunned. Without warning or any logic, the monster seemed to be driven by some mysterious will, locking onto the Crimson Tide Lord.

"What grudge do I have against you?!" Realizing the monster was rapidly approaching, Louis couldn't help but blurt out, his eyes wide open.

[Bloodline Talent - Trajectory] Activated!
A trajectory line extends from Titus's shoulder.

The spear thorns that swept past his left side, the twist of his waist, and the direction of the next sweep were all already formed in Louis's mind.

"Left thrust... followed by right slash!"

Almost instinctively, he yanked the reins, and the warhorse neighed and leaped to the right, its body suddenly buckling downwards. "Thump!"

The steel-like thorn grazed his cheek, leaving a trail of hot blood and tearing a gash in the armor on his left ear.

Snowflakes and bloodstains fell at the same time, and coldness and burning pain invaded the senses at the same moment.

Although he dodged the attack, the aftershock still made his chest feel stuffy and his arms numb.

The difference in strength was too great. Despite expending so much effort, he barely managed to tumble away from the Grim Reaper's scythe.

"Thank goodness... if I had been half a second slower I would have lost my head!"

Louis cursed inwardly, the chill from the sudden fright still lingering in his chest, forcing himself to suppress the chaotic beating of his heart.

Fighting head-on right now would be suicide; the gap between him and the peak level is an insurmountable chasm.

He had no choice but to stall him, so he quickly chanted an incantation, subconsciously releasing the magic he was most familiar with.

"The body-holding technique!"

A burst of silvery-white runic light suddenly shot out from his palm, like a binding lock wrapping around Titus's legs.

The vines stiffened instantly.

"Fireball!"

A blazing ball of fire was then launched, exploding violently on the side of the rattan armor.

It didn't damage any flesh or blood, but it was enough to force Titus's vines to pause their attack for a moment.

"Guard formation!"

Lambert roared, and five extraordinary knights immediately surrounded Louis, the sound of steel clashing with bloodvines ringing out.

He stood at the forefront, sword in hand, sparks flying as his sword slashed down, entangled with the blood vines that were as sharp as steel whips, each step he took barely managing to block the opponent's attacks from the brink of death.

Louis retreated while staying close to his guards, filled with regret.

"What are you pretending for? If I had just stayed on that hillside and watched the show, I wouldn't be in this godforsaken state now..."

The pulse of Titus's rage grew faster and faster, and the crimson mist rolled in, like the throat of a giant beast, ready to swallow Louis and his guards whole.

While desperately dodging, Louis continued to use magic to force the vines to turn, barely maintaining this precarious path to survival.

Lambert gritted his teeth and drew his sword, the guard formation already teetering on the brink of collapse.

Just as the blood vines surged up from the ground, threatening to kill them.

“Louis! Step back!” It was the Duke of Edmund’s voice, deep and thunderous.

With a roar, eight blazing battle energies streaked through the crimson mist like meteors.

The extraordinary knights of the Cold Iron Knights, clad in blood-stained armor, arrived side by side with the Duke.

The snow beneath their feet turned to steam under the intense heat and the impact of their battle aura, and their charging trajectory resembled a river of burning steel.

They pressed forward from both flanks and the front simultaneously, flames, lightning, and ice intertwining to form a moving wall of death, forcefully carving a breathing space between Titus and Louis.

Louis was roughly pulled away from the battle by Lambert. When he turned around, he saw fourteen knights, as if it were the last gamble of fate, clashing head-on with the monster.

Titus's every swing not only possessed power surpassing that of a peak knight, but was also accompanied by blood vines shooting out from all directions, as if the entire battlefield was acting on his behalf.

As the thorns swept across, armor shattered and blood splattered, but none of the knights retreated. Instead, they burned their fighting spirit to the limit, even overdrawing their lives, in exchange for even a moment's opening.

Flames scorched through his rattan armor, lightning spears pierced through his furious flowers, and ice sealed his joints.

The fourteen riders worked together to force Titus deeper and deeper into the snow, forming a death vortex that tightened and tightened.

Titus' movements gradually slowed down.

The petals of the angry flower trembled in the gale, the color of the vines gradually turned from blood-red to black and withered, and the pulse deep in the heart of the flower began to become disordered, like the last gasps of a drowning person.

Edmund leaped high into the air, stepping on the broken blood vines, blue light surging from his giant hammer: "Die!!"

boom! ! !
The hammer slammed heavily into Titus's twisted core—the Scorching Vine Garden—onto his chest.

The next instant, the angry flower burst open, and the vines turned to ashes in the air, swallowed up by the wind and snow.

Titus's body collapsed into the snow, and he was no longer heard from it.

The battlefield fell into a brief stillness.

It was as if some invisible force had been severed...

The blood blossoms blooming on the giants' chests suddenly closed and cracked, the vines withered into dust, and their enormous bodies, now without support, collapsed to the ground with a thud, causing the snow and earth to tremble.

The barbarian soldiers, who had been roaring incessantly, froze as if their souls had been ripped away the moment the angry flowers withered, and then fell into the snow together, never to be heard again.

The crimson light in the eyes of the scattered monsters on the battlefield went out, as if their life force had been drained, and they collapsed heavily.

The crimson mist ceased its churning and dissipated with the wind.

All the knights knew they had won.

The North also survived.

But at this moment, no one cheered.

The sound of the longsword and warhammer coming loose was particularly crisp in the deathly silent canyon.

They were breathing heavily, their bodies, devoid of fighting spirit, like hollowed-out iron shells.

Some people slumped in the snow, letting the ice and snow fall into the gaps in their armor; others gripped their longswords, which had already been dulled, and stared blankly at the fallen enemies.

Some people looked up at the gray sky, their eyes vacant as if they had aged decades.

The wind blew through the canyon, stirring up a cloud of dust from withered vines, like a silent elegy.

This victory is not a glory, but a price to pay.

At the heart of the battlefield, Louis's horse slowly came to a stop, but in the next instant, he collapsed heavily to the ground.

"Lord Lord!"

"Louis!"

The knights and Duke Edmund cried out in alarm almost simultaneously, and five Crimson Tide Knights quickly surrounded him.

Lambert didn't even sheath his sword; he simply dismounted, holding Louis's helmet with one hand and reaching for his neck with the other.

He held his breath until he felt the steady, faint pulse, then slowly exhaled a puff of white mist.

"It's nothing... I just fainted, probably from the stress of the battle and the fatigue of the march."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when they heard this.

No one shines brighter than Louis today; the "Clear Fog" he brought almost saved the core strength of the entire Northern Territory.

Everyone thought he was just exhausted and would wake up after a good rest.

Only Louis knew that a wisp of red mist, as thin as a spider's web, had silently crept into his mind.

(End of this chapter)