Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 330 Memory Fragments
Louis's chest tightened suddenly.

The purple mist then entered his sea of ​​consciousness and instantly transformed into countless insect shadows.

The crisp sound of shells cracking, the sticky slapping of tentacles, and the cold, indifferent stares of a swarming group staring at him.

They chewed and tore at each other, as if trying to swallow everything into their dark bellies.

Each cry was like the roar of endless hunger.

This is not simply murderous intent, but a desire to devour everything.

Even his will, memories, and heartbeat were being pulled and forced into the bloody maw of the insect swarm.

"...Not again!? Why do all sorts of weird things keep popping into my head!?"

Louis cursed inwardly, his head throbbing with pain.

Just as he was about to be torn apart by the sound, a platinum-gold pulse suddenly lit up in his mind.

The original heart has been illuminated.

Platinum starlight surged forth like a galaxy, instantly traversing the entire void.

Alongside it was that wisp of crimson mist from before.

The petals of the raging flower unfurled amidst the flames, and the blood vines meandered, not rushing towards him, but coiling around the Primordial Heart like guardians.

The swarm of insects rushed in, opening their mouthparts full of fangs.

White light and crimson flames erupted simultaneously, burning them through in an instant.

Thousands upon thousands of insects turned to ashes amidst screams, their skeletal forms disintegrating in the flames.

The sound of shattering echoed throughout his mind, but the suffocating tearing sensation of before was gone.

Louis watched the contest and suddenly realized that he wasn't being pushed to his limit like last time.

The collaboration between the Crimson Mist and the Primal Heart gave the Purple Mist almost no chance to catch its breath.

In just a few breaths, the swarm of insects was completely swallowed up, reduced to ashes, and absorbed by the platinum light stream.

The sea of ​​consciousness has returned to tranquility.

“This purple mist is much weaker than the last one,” Louis thought to himself.

Perhaps this is its last remaining vestige of will, too weak to truly tear open its own mind.

Louis had just caught his breath when the world before him collapsed once again.

Before he could react, his consciousness was torn apart by a torrent and suddenly swept into an unfamiliar riverbed.

Memories that were not his own, imbued with the scent of blood and fire, crashed into his mind.

A flame suddenly ignited.

Under the dragon's shadow, the city was engulfed in flames.

The chains dragged countless humans along, their cries and roars drowned out by the deafening roar of the dragon.

The Primordial Mage stood in the crowd, his eyes bloodshot, clutching a blood-stained stone tightly.

The scene shifts to a man and a woman standing side by side in front of a snow-covered altar.

Countless inhabitants of the snowfield knelt at their feet, their foreheads plunging deep into the ice and snow, as if they were truly ancient gods who had emerged from the earth.

Then came the thunderous roar of iron hooves.

The banners of the Iron-Blooded Empire were planted on the snowfield, and the knights' lances pressed down like a forest.

The village burned, women and the elderly were driven away, and the cries of children were swallowed up in the wind and snow, turning into silent despair.

In the final moments, amidst the flames and ashes, the man who had just been standing knelt alone in the wreckage, tears streaming down his face.

Purple mist rose silently from behind him, like a cold, sinister hand opening up and slowly enveloping him.

He didn't struggle, he just closed his eyes.

The images flickered repeatedly, as if someone had forcibly torn apart several pieces of history right before his eyes.

Louis gritted his teeth and tried his best not to be swept away by the torrent like the first time.

He desperately tried to capture the details of these fragments, hoping to find the truth related to the mist and the primordial heart.

Unfortunately, they still collapsed in an instant.

He could only cling tightly to these four images, like grabbing a few withered leaves from a raging torrent.

Louis suddenly opened his eyes and found himself lying in a tent in the canyon, his clothes soaked with cold sweat.

The heaviness in my body was still there, but a vague, inexplicable power brought by purple smoke had appeared in my heart.

He clenched his fist instinctively, feeling the power within.

If someone were to attack him at this moment, the residual power of the purple mist seemed capable of converting the damage into energy, becoming his new source of support.

The death and wreckage on the battlefield would subtly nourish him, making him calmer and stronger amidst the bloodshed and chaos.

If a fatal injury is sustained, the body will automatically initiate healing, accelerating the cessation of bleeding and recovery.

In an environment littered with corpses, his presence would be exceptionally strong, becoming the core of the aura.

These thoughts are not deductions, but rather arise naturally from the depths of one's mind, like an innate intuition.

Louis focused intently, a cold glint in his eyes.

"...The greater the power like this, the more it signifies war."

At least for now, he doesn't want to test these capabilities.

Louis closed his eyes and recalled those four fragmented images once again.

The barbarians kneeling before the altar... they don't seem to belong to this era at all; they look more like remnants of a distant past.

He suddenly remembered the mural the knight had described, which also depicted two figures shrouded in a strange mist.

The Mother Nest and the Scorching Vine Garden are probably inextricably linked to those two people.

And what do those imperial knightly orders represent?
"What can we find out by looking at the ruins? And the history of the old Snow Country... we need to go back and look it up again." Louis thought to himself.

The curtain was suddenly lifted, and Lambert strode in, looking somewhat anxious.

"Lord Louis, you've finally woken up."

Louis looked up and asked calmly, "How long was I unconscious?"

“Less than three hours.” Lambert breathed a sigh of relief, then asked, “Sir, how are you feeling? The doctor examined you; it’s just simple fatigue.”

Hearing Lambert's answer, Louis breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Last time he slept for ten days straight, but this time... perhaps the purple mist was much weaker than the crimson one, and with the Platinum Galaxy and the crimson mist side by side, he didn't fall into an even deeper slumber.

Louis nodded, speaking casually: "I was probably too tired lately... The rumbling underground stirred things up, and everything went black before my eyes, and I collapsed."

Lambert nodded, but he wasn't truly at peace with it.

This is the second time. The last time was during the final battle of the barbarians.

Louis looked up and saw the unease in Lambert's eyes. He smiled slightly and said, "Don't worry, compared to last time, this time it wasn't even a coma. I was just too tired."

Lambert paused for a moment, then said in a low voice, "I'm still worried."

“I understand.” Louis shook his head, changing the subject, “How is the situation? How’s the cleanup going?”

Lambert immediately straightened up and reported, "Everyone has returned to camp and is awaiting your instructions. Several knights were wounded, but fortunately, no one was killed."

“Very good.” Louis nodded, but his brow remained furrowed. “Send more people to the explosion site tomorrow. There’s no need to take any risks tonight.”

He paused, then added, "As for the magic explosion bombs... have Hilko and the others expedite the improvement of the muzzle. The range needs to be even greater, and the power must be completely controllable." Lambert responded in a low voice, "Yes, sir."

…………

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, Louis set off with his knights.

The knights were fully armed, their masks tightly closed, and the sound of their horses' hooves seemed particularly muffled in the snow-covered canyon.

Louis, riding in the middle, turned around and asked, "Silco, what do you think of last night's explosion?"

"The power... far exceeded my expectations, which caused me to misjudge the distance." Hilko pushed up his goggles, unable to suppress the tremor in his voice, and a hint of excitement flashed in his eyes.

The air was still thick with the smell of burning, the lingering smoke mingling with the cold wind, giving off a pungent, acrid smell.

The permafrost beneath their feet was cracked into countless faults, littered with rubble and debris.

The ground in front collapsed into a huge crater, as if a meteorite had crashed down, and the ice at the edge was shattered and spread outwards in a radial pattern.

The mountainside was even more shocking.

The thick rock layers were scorched black by the intense heat and shockwave, as if they had been licked by a raging fire.

Sharp cracks stretched to the horizon, and slivers of snow slipped through the gaps, falling into a bottomless pit.

Louis stopped his horse and silently gazed at the charred ruins.

This is the power of the third-generation magic explosive bomb.

He sighed silently in his heart, but didn't let any emotion show on his face.

The knight squad first set up a perimeter around the explosion crater, keeping a sharp eye out for any lurking monsters or remaining black mist.

Several knights probed the rubble with their spears to make sure it wouldn't collapse again.

The search lasted for half an hour until the outer perimeter was confirmed to be safe before someone slowly descended into the pit.

Louis remained atop a hill several hundred meters away, mounted on horseback, his gaze calmly surveying the entire ruins.

Lambert stayed by his side without leaving for a moment, his expression tense. More than any sudden danger, he was worried that Louis would faint again without warning.

They split into three lines and slowly descended the collapsed slope.

"Put on your mask." The lead knight lowered his voice.

Upon hearing this, everyone took out transparent masks framed in silver from their backpacks. The inner walls of the masks contained a light blue liquid, which seeped into tiny channels as they were fastened, turning into a thin mist that diffused on the inside of the mirror.

This is the Frostvine Air Purifier recently improved by the Red Tide Territory Craftsmen's Workshop. It is said that the prototype was designed by Lord Louis himself.

It can isolate itself from spores and hallucinogenic gases for a short period of time, and remain conscious even when faced with the remaining black mist of the mother nest.

"Take a deep breath, don't panic," someone whispered. The sound of breathing echoed muffledly through the mask.

The icy ground beneath my feet was loose and brittle, each step accompanied by a cracking sound, as if it might collapse at any moment.

The lead knight gestured for caution while probing the ground with his tremor spear.

Each time the spear was thrust in, the shaft would transmit a subtle vibration, which was used to confirm whether there was a hollow underfoot.

Only after several probes confirmed that there would be no collapse did they continue their descent.

The faint light from the torches and the intertwined battle aura illuminated the bottom of the deep pit, a completely charred ruin.

They searched through the scorched earth and soon found scattered insect shells.

They have bizarre shapes; some resemble armor, while others are only the size of a palm. Most are charred and brittle, crumbling at the slightest touch.

A few fragments still gleam with a purple sheen and emit a faint, unsettling buzzing sound when brought close.

"Don't touch it for too long." A knight frowned and brushed aside the fragments. "This thing is dead, but not clean."

The team then took out a sealed jar, provided by the mage Lin.

The container is thick and heavy, with special runes plated on the inner wall to slow down the decay of unknown substances or the dissipation of energy.

Carefully, the few fragments were put inside, and after the lid was closed, the runes flickered faintly, indicating that it was temporarily safe.

Continuing onward, several twisted humanoid corpses came into view.

Flesh and blood were torn apart by the shockwave, limbs stuck to the rocks, vine-like tissue still remained on the arms, the skull was deformed, and the mouth was full of sharp teeth.

Further ahead, they encountered a pile of collapsed boulders.

Several remaining stones bear intricate symbols and grooves, but most have been cracked or burned, making them almost unrecognizable.

"The ruins of an ancient altar," the lead knight whispered. "It's unrecognizable."

Its sweet and pungent flavor was tinged with decay, and mixed with a faint floral fragrance.

“The remnants of the black mist.” Someone immediately tightened their mask, their tone grave.

The knights' breathing became slightly heavy, but there were no signs of them losing control or being poisoned. The group quickly assessed: "Their vital energy has almost dissipated; they pose little threat."

They exchanged a glance, both feeling a sense of relief.

If it weren't for the air purifiers protecting the Red Tide Territory, who knows if these energies would have seeped into their brains?

In the end, the knights returned almost empty-handed.

The power of yesterday's high-explosive magic bomb was too astonishing; the altar and the underground palace were reduced to ruins.

Even the stone surface that once had ancient murals was blasted to pieces, the fragments mixed in with the scorched earth, and have long since disappeared.

The team could only bring up a few fragments: charred insect shells, twisted limbs, and cracked rocks.

All of these were placed in a sealed jar and carefully presented to Lambert.

“Lord Louis.” Lambert took one of the jars, and through the dim light, he saw the insect shell and his expression turned serious.

He wouldn't mistake its shape; it was almost identical to the remains left behind by the mother nest.

His brow furrowed deeply, and the worst thought surfaced in his mind: Could the remnants of the Mother Nest still be lurking deep in the North?
But Louis, who was beside him, knew that the purple mist had been purified by the primordial heart within him, and the daily intelligence system also showed that the Witch of Despair was dead.

But Louis could not say these things aloud.

Lambert could only worry about it.

However, Louis, standing beside him, simply accepted the report calmly.

The insect shell remains have lost their vitality.

The monster's remains, with structures similar to humans, have been confirmed to be contaminated.

The altar stones were severely damaged and difficult to identify.

A faint black haze lingered in the air, but posed no direct threat.

The investigation's conclusions were not unexpected.

Louis felt a pang of regret; all the clues had been destroyed, and there was nothing more to follow.

Louis took one last look from the high vantage point, suppressing all remaining questions in his mind.

Regardless of the truth behind the fog, at least for now, the most important thing in the Red Tide Territory is in the south, in that port that will lead to the sea.

"Leave a few to continue the investigation, the rest of you, retreat," he ordered, his expression unchanging. "There's nothing left to do here, let's go."

Everyone responded and immediately began to evacuate.

The caravan rounded the canyon, the thunderous sound of hooves echoing as it marched south in a grand procession.

The canyon gradually fell silent, with only the charred crater standing quietly, like a huge scar reminding everyone that the power of the third-generation magic bomb was enough to level anything.

(End of this chapter)