Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 446 Silent Manipulation
Kahn's body fell with a dull thud.

That once tall and strong body seemed to have its bones ripped out in an instant, crashing to the ground with a thud.

From the severed neck cavity, a jet of scalding blood slammed against the edge of the round table, then splashed back onto the stone floor, quickly spreading out into a scarlet carpet.

The strong smell of blood instantly overwhelmed the cloying, sweet-smelling odor of the sea monster oil lamp.

The hall was deathly silent.

That head, which was said to be able to smash through a mast, was crushed too cleanly.

He didn't even have time to let out a complete scream.

Kahn's eyes were still open, his bulging eyeballs hanging outside their sockets, his pupils dilated, frozen in a final look of bewilderment and terror.

The remaining three people moved almost instinctively.

Rosa, Sanders, and Moro, these three pirate captains who would normally hate each other to the point of drowning, displayed astonishing teamwork at this moment.

In a very short time, they stood back to back in a stiff corner, entrusting their most vulnerable backs to each other.

Dark red, dark green, and pale white.

Three streams of fighting spirit and spiritual energy of different colors suddenly erupted in the narrow council hall.

The auras of high-level transcendent beings collided wildly, distorting the air.

The heavy stone table vibrated and even emitted a harsh grinding sound, and the mold on the walls peeled off in a rustling sound, like a gray snowfall.

They were rationalities that were forcibly propped up by force.

Before the battle even began, Moro collapsed. As a medium, his perception was far more acute than that of the knights, and because of this, he saw far more of the truth than others.

"Get out of my mind!!" He clutched his head tightly with both hands, his nails digging deep into his scalp, leaving bloody scratches. "Get out of my head!! Don't even think about turning me into water!!"

While Rosa and Sanders were still trying to fight back with their fighting spirit, Moro's mental defenses had already completely broken down before his physical body could.

Under the gaze of that pink brain tissue, he felt his soul being liquefied little by little.

Moro suddenly bit his tongue, spraying a mouthful of scalding blood onto the deep-sea beast bone necklace on his chest.

The moment the blood comes into contact with the bone, it makes a faint "hissing" sound, as if it has fallen onto a red-hot iron plate.

"boom!"

The beast bones shattered. The fragments paused in mid-air for a moment before transforming into more than a dozen pale, vengeful phantoms.

They lack a complete human form; their faces are distorted and elongated, their mouths and noses are empty, and they trail long, grayish-white tails, emitting piercing mental screams in the air.

"Woo!!"

This is an impact powerful enough to tear consciousness apart. An ordinary extraordinary knight wouldn't even have a chance to scream under this blow; his brain would turn into mush.

"Die! Die—!!"

Moro roared hysterically, blood streaming from his seven orifices, pouring all his remaining spiritual energy into this suicidal attack.

The vengeful spirits surged towards Balk, who was blocking the doorway, like a tidal wave.

However, Balk stood there without even raising his hand to defend himself, but simply raised his head slightly, opened his mouth and took a deep breath.

The next instant, a strange suction force, as if from a deep ocean trench, came from deep within his mouth.

The dozen or so shrill, agonizing souls, upon contact with that suction force, were like bubbles caught in a storm.

They struggled desperately, scratching at the air, but couldn't find a way to escape. Their bodies were stretched into thin wisps of white smoke and dragged directly into Balk's not-so-large mouth.

"Gulp." It's as smooth as eating noodles.

All the shrieks, curses, and mental shocks vanished the moment they entered his mouth.

Balk shut his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he let out a burp in front of everyone.

The pink, soft mass exposed to the air trembled gently with satisfaction above his head, secreting a layer of transparent mucus.

"It tastes good." He stuck out his scarlet tongue and licked his lips. "It's just a bit salty. The soul of an old man is always too bitter."

Moro's madness froze, his mind went blank as if he had been hit hard with a hammer.

This was his strongest trump card, a deadly move he had traded his life for.

But it became the other party's...appetizer?

In that instant, Balk moved, and the five or six meters between them were wiped out in a flash.

A hand gently covered Moro's crown.

"Oh!"

The sound was not loud, but it was unusually crisp.

The headless body swayed, like a puppet that had lost its strings, and slid down limply, blocking the only exit.

At the very moment Balk crushed Moro's head, Sanders and Rosa moved simultaneously.

This is the perfect opportunity. Without exchanging glances, those who have survived this long in this man-eating sea understand when it's time to gamble everything.

Sanders was the first to disappear from sight.

Dark green battle aura burned wildly on his body, and his whole body seemed to be compressed into a thin line that was difficult to see with the naked eye. The speed was so fast that even the afterimage on the retina did not have time to form.

He skimmed across the blood-stained ground, the deadly poisonous dagger in his hand extended forward, aimed straight at Balk's back.

At the same time, Rosa took a step to the flank.

The azure battle aura coiled around the rapier like a thin layer of ice, locking onto the most vulnerable bloodline on the side of the neck.

She abandoned her illusion of a fatal blow and chose the safest route: weakening the nerves and cutting off their blood supply.

The dagger was already close to the fabric.

Just as Sanders was certain that he could pierce the heart in the next instant.

"Crack! Crack! Crack!" A series of teeth-grinding bone-grinding sounds rang out.

Balk's lower body remained completely still, while his upper body rotated 180 degrees backward in a manner that completely defied the structure of the human spine.

That face with a stiff smile appeared in front of Sanders in an instant.

The large hand, still smeared with Moro's red and white brain matter, stretched out as if it were a prophet.

It precisely caught Sanders' face.

The speed is so fast that even the word "extreme speed" cannot describe it.

Sanders only had time to meet a pair of empty, lifeless eyes.

"Too slow." The voice was flat and monotone, as if commenting on a crawling snail.

The next instant, "Bang!"

The dark green protective aura shattered like a thin, brittle candy shell.

The skull shattered under the irresistible force, and a blood mist bloomed tragically in mid-air.

Sanders' headless body continued to rush forward due to inertia, crashing heavily against the stone wall and leaving a long, slippery trail of blood.

Almost simultaneously, Rosa's rapier struck its target.

The sword tip pierced Balk's left chest.

However, there was no tearing sound of metal piercing flesh, nor the expected resistance.

The sensation was so strange that her heart sank. It didn't feel like a piercing to the human body, but more like being stabbed into a lump of over-fermented dough or a bucket of sticky glue.

The battle aura was quickly swallowed up, without even the slightest counterattack.

Balk lowered his head and glanced at the sword in his chest, as if confirming something insignificant.

He waved his hand casually, as if shooing away a fly.

Snapped!
The immense force rebounded along the sword, causing the steel rapier to break into several pieces on the spot.

Rosa was sent flying by this terrifying force, like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily into the wreckage of the round table.

Wood chips flew everywhere, and gravel crumbled.

The council chamber fell silent again.

Rosa lay on the ground, coughing violently, her throat filled with the churning taste of blood. Her vision was blurring, and she managed to lift her head.

Three headless corpses lay on the ground.

Kahn, Morrow, Sanders.

In less than a minute, the most elite fighting force in this sea area was completely wiped out.

Heavy footsteps approached.

Balk walked up to her and slowly squatted down. The pink parasitic brain above her head writhed violently at close range, its tentacles probing the air and making a faint, sticky "gurgling" sound.

“You’re the only one left, Ms. Rosa.” His tone carried a strange hint of approval. “Then I’ll give you a little reward.”

He reached out and gently cupped her cheeks in his hands. His palms were cold and slippery, yet they possessed an indescribable draw.

A sweet, cloying aroma instantly filled my nostrils.

The remaining fighting spirit within Rosa dissipated in an instant, and even the thought of resistance became distant and blurred.

She heard a faint cracking sound coming from her skull.

"Click."

She closed her eyes, awaiting the onset of excruciating pain.

But instead of pain, a warm, viscous liquid was forced into the brain through the crack.

Pleasure exploded in an instant, the soul was gently enveloped, and consciousness melted rapidly in a pink torrent.

In the last second before his consciousness completely collapsed, Rosa's lips uncontrollably curled up into a wildly joyful smile that was even uglier than crying.

Instead of a scream, she let out a satisfied sigh.

next moment.

Bang!
Her head exploded in ecstasy.

There was no pain, only relief. A wisp of eerie blood mist slowly dissipated under the ghastly green light, bringing this massacre to an absurd end.

An eerie stillness fell over the hall, with four headless corpses lying haphazardly on the floor.

Strangely, the pool of blood on the ground stopped spreading.

The severed neck cavity seemed to be instantly sealed off by some unseen force, and the gushing blood stopped abruptly after the initial outburst.

The strong smell of blood in the air was quickly being replaced by another scent.

Sweet, a cloying sweetness born from the saltiness of the deep sea and the fermentation of rotting flesh.

A few seconds later, the change began.

The first thing to show signs of movement was Kahn's enormous body.

Deep within his fractured and rough cervical vertebrae, countless tiny pink granulations began to writhe wildly.

They are like seeds planted in the bone marrow beforehand, and after the host loses the suppression of the head, they finally usher in a frenzied growth.

The granulation tissue rapidly splits, extends, and intertwines with each other, its surface gleaming with a sickly, oily sheen.

"Guji."

With a wet, muffled thud, a semi-transparent pink soft mass suddenly swelled out of the neck cavity.

It has no distinct facial features; only a vaguely discernible, translucent outline resembling a jellyfish or octopus can be seen.

It throbbed rhythmically in the center, like a heart exposed to the air, or a lung breathing.

Then, the severed necks of the other three corpses were repaired in the same way at the same time.

The blood stopped flowing, and the head was replaced by a foreign object.

With a sickening grinding sound, the body, which had been dead, slowly began to twitch.

“Click, click.”

The joints made a stiff, cracking sound, the spines straightened again, and the four headless bodies stood up unsteadily.

Balk bent down and picked up the triangular captain's hat that had been blown off from the ground, which was covered in sawdust and bloodstains.

The black felt hat was covered in dust and specks of dried brain matter.

He took out a handkerchief and patiently wiped away the stains little by little, his movements gentle and meticulous, as if he were tidying up a rare treasure.

He then held the hat in both hands and put it back on his head.

The wide brim of the hat hung down, casting a shadow.

Balk straightened his collar, raised his head, and looked at the four new students in front of him.

His smile had completely shed the previous feigned emotion of deliberately mimicking humans.

Instead, there is a pure, creator-like satisfaction.

“Look.” His voice echoed in the empty council chamber, carrying a moist resonance as if it contained the scent of seawater:

"Without those minds filled with distractions, fears, and foolish desires... how...perfect, how joyful you become."

The four headless figures did not respond, but the several pink, soft masses trembled slightly at the same time, secreting a layer of excited mucus.

It looked like a nod, or perhaps a cheer.

Balk turned around, his scarlet cloak sweeping across the blood-stained ground behind him.

"Let's go, let's assemble the fleet." His steps were unhurried. "We're going to sea, to give this dying world a boost..."

He paused for a moment, then his mouth stretched into a wide grin: "Hold a grand banquet."

The green flame of the oil lamp moved without wind, casting five elongated shadows on the wall, looking menacing.

…………

late at night.

The sea was like a pool of thick, dead ink, and even the starlight was swallowed up by the heavy gray fog.

Miller stood at the doorway of the captain's cabin, where only a single lantern flickered, wiping the scimitar for the tenth time.

The blade reflected half of his sinister face, but it couldn't reveal a trace of blood.

Rosa had been inside for a full eight hours.

The castle in the distance had completely melted into the night, like a giant beast lurking at the mouth of an abyss, with not a single light shining through.

The only thing that changed was the taste.

As the night wind grew colder, the sweet, cloying scent in the air became even stronger.

It's like a damp, cold snake's tongue, creeping into your lungs through your nasal cavity, bringing a hallucinogenic, drowsy sensation.

The deck was deathly silent.

By the dim light of the lantern on the mast, Miller saw that all the sailors on night watch were slumped on the ground.

They were contorted in bizarre poses, like a pile of rotten flesh that had been carelessly discarded.

Some people let out silly laughter in their dreams, while others drooled with glistening saliva that gleamed eerily in the darkness.

"A bunch of trash."

Miller cursed under his breath, his heart pounding violently in his chest. A chilling feeling of being targeted by a predator sent shivers down his spine.

at this time.

"Clap."

A moist, sticky sound rang out clearly like thunder in the dead of night.

That wasn't the sound of boots hitting wooden planks. It was the sound of some wet, soft flesh slapping against the deck.

Miller turned around abruptly, his pupils shrinking.

In the darkness at the edge of the ship's gunwale, a slippery hand silently reached out.

Its grayish-green skin gleamed oily under the lantern light, its toes had translucent webbed fingers, and its curved, black claws were deeply embedded in the wooden gunwales.

Immediately afterwards, countless pairs of eerie green eyes lit up in the darkness.

They made no noise, like a group of ghosts emerging from ink.

The second, the third, the tenth... a dense array of wet, slippery black shadows were silently crawling up the hull of the boat.

Before Miller could even draw his sword, the nearest Deep One had already pounced on the sleeping boatswain.

It moved as fast as a black lightning bolt.

The monster straddled the boatswain, roughly prying open his jaw with such force that it crushed his teeth.

"Crack." The boatswain awoke with a start from excruciating pain, but could not utter a sound.

The monster's face split open, and a pink, tubular mouthpart covered in slime and emitting a faint glow suddenly emerged from deep within its throat, plunging violently into the bosun's mouth and piercing his esophagus.

"Well--!!!"

The boatswain convulsed violently in the darkness, his legs kicking wildly, his heels scraping frantically against the deck, expressing his pain.

By the dim light, Miller could clearly see a pinkish fleshy egg being forcibly squeezed into a living person's stomach through the transparent tube.

The convulsions stopped abruptly.

The boatswain's eyes rolled back suddenly, then turned deathly gray.

The next second, he sprang up like a puppet, grabbed the rope beside him, let out a low, inhuman growl, and joined the ranks of the monsters.

"Enemy attack!!!" Miller finally roared, his voice shrill and distorted in the dead of night.

Without any hesitation, he raised his musket and pulled the trigger at the nearest dark figure.

"Bang—!" The flames from the gun barrel instantly tore through the darkness.

That instant of intense light illuminated a breathtaking scene on the deck...

The deck was covered with swarms of Deepseas, who were crawling all over the sleeping pirates, performing that nauseating feeding ritual.

"Aaaaaah!!" The pirate, awakened by the gunshot, let out a desperate scream.

But just as he tried to get up, a Deep One stepped on his chest, and its claws instantly tore open his throat.

Hot blood splattered, staining the monster's scales red.

The massacre began; the deck at night became a meat grinder.

The pirates, awakened by the commotion, had no time to find their weapons. They stumbled around in the darkness like headless flies, then were dragged into the shadows and dismembered, or forced to the ground and parasitized.

"Don't fucking sleep! Kill!!"

Miller kicked a recruit who was blocking his way to the ground, and his scimitar, crackling with battle aura, slashed wildly in the darkness.

A massive Deep One leader swooped down from the mast, bringing a stench as it aimed straight for Miller's head.

Miller's eyes turned sinister. Without thinking, he grabbed the still screaming helmsman next to him and shoved him away.

puff!

The helmsman's chest was instantly pierced by the claws, and he was hanging from the monster's claws.

"First mate, you..." Taking advantage of the brief moment of opening gained by the human shield, Miller roared and slashed down with his sword.

Half of the monster's head was chopped off, and foul-smelling black blood splattered all over Miller's face.

He didn't care about the helmsman's life or death at all, and kicked the corpse and the monster away together.

"Get out of the way!" His face was covered in blood as he charged toward the gun emplacement on the side of the gun like a madman.

Since we can't survive, then nobody should have an easy time.

Rosa's command exploded in his mind.

Muddy the waters!

"Load! Load it for me!!" Miller rushed to the gun position and slashed down a mutating loader with a single blow.

The remaining two pirates were terrified and trembled as they groped in the dark, stuffing gunpowder packets and solid bullets into the cannon barrel.

All around were screams and chewing sounds, and the monster's slippery footsteps grew closer.

Miller could even feel the foul-smelling breath coming from behind him.

He grinned maliciously and slammed the torch hard against the fuse.

The fuse hissed and burned, the flames illuminating his contorted face.

"boom--!!!"

The first cannon shot rang out in the dead of night.

The enormous recoil sent splinters of wood flying from the deck.

The blazing muzzle flash instantly illuminated the sea surface within a radius of tens of meters, and also illuminated the terrified, retreating faces of the monsters.

"Boom! Boom!" Then came the second and the third.

The cannonball, leaving a red-hot trail, ripped through the dark night sky and crashed heavily into the distant castle.

The flames from the explosion rose in the direction of the fortress, like a burning lighthouse erected in the pitch-black night.

All the monsters stopped.

They instinctively feared the loud noise and flash of light, and all turned their heads to look in the direction of the explosion.

"Cut anchor! Raise the sails!" Miller's voice boomed across the deck during this brief lull, lashing at everyone like a whip.

There was no nonsense, and no one dared to confirm it.

The boatswain swung his battle-axe, and the iron chain snapped amidst a shower of sparks with a sickeningly sharp sound.

The Scorpion shuddered violently, its bow struggling to turn towards the open sea amidst the surging waves.

too slow.

The deck beneath Miller's feet was shaking; the ship seemed to be dragged down by something, groaning with every step forward.

He looked grimly toward the outside of the ship's side.

The place was filled with people.

Those pirates who failed to board clung tightly to the ropes and nets, like bunches of rotting grapes.

Some people had half their bodies submerged in the water, their legs torn to shreds by the shadowy figures underwater, yet they still dared not let go.

"Pull me!"

"First Mate! I can work too! Don't leave me behind!"

The cries and shouts mingled with the sound of the wind and filled my ears.

Miller walked to the side of the ship and looked down at them.

He recognized these faces; they had been drinking together at the same table just yesterday, sharing gold coins and even tying prisoners of war to stones and sinking them into the sea.

But at that moment, his eyes seemed to be looking at a group of barnacles.

"I'm overweight." He said it so softly that no one heard him, nor did they need to.

The scimitar was drawn, its cold light grazing the ship's side, and a cable snapped.

The string of people hanging there didn't even have time to scream before they were thrown directly into the churning seawater.

The fish-men underwater instantly swarmed around, and red foam rose from the surface of the water.

Then came the second one, the third one... Miller's movements were steady, as if he were pruning excess branches.

A skilled pirate had already placed his hand on the railing, half his head sticking out, his face covered in blood: "Miller! I..."

A boot sole was imprinted directly on his face.

"Don't get my deck dirty." Miller pushed off with his feet.

The man fell backward and was dragged into the deep water by the three fish-men the instant he fell into the sea.

The situation wasn't much better on deck.

The lowly sailors, the loaders, and the idiots who hadn't even had time to throw away their rum barrels were all crammed together in a mess.

Some people even clung tightly to the small box containing silver coins, which was their life savings.

Miller scanned the pairs of terrified eyes.

There are no emotions, only calculations.

“Clear them out,” he said, pointing to the excess cargo.

Before those people could react, his confidants had already drawn their swords and rushed forward to clear out the warehouse.

Anyone who couldn't use a knife to attack someone, was injured, or was carrying heavy objects was pushed to the side of the ship.

"Do not--!"

"This boat can still hold more! I'm strong!"

The screams were barely out of his mouth before the knife hilt and boot were stuffed back into his stomach.

The box full of silver coins was kicked over, and the coins rained down into the pool of blood. Then the owner of the box was thrown down as well.

A bucket of fresh water, a spare canvas, and a companion with a broken leg.

Like a drunkard vomiting filth, the Scorpion slowly emptied its belly of burdens.

The ship finally felt lighter.

A gust of wind pushed the battered ship through the wreckage ahead, carving a bloody path through the chaotic inner bay.

Miller only exhaled the stale air from his lungs after leaving the screams behind in the mist.

He turned around and looked behind him, and the sight there sent chills down his spine.

The gunfire gradually subsided, and the shouts of battle seemed to be choked.

In the dim light of dawn, he saw that Kahn's massive flagship, the Shattered Bones, was covered with countless slippery black fishmen.

They did not rush to kill.

The pirates on the deck were pinned to the ground, and no matter how much they struggled, the fishmen held their limbs down firmly.

A fish-man pried open a burly man's mouth, his body twitched strangely, and spat something soft and mushy into the man's throat.

The pirate gagged violently, rolled around, and scratched the wooden planks until they bled.

A few seconds later, he stopped moving.

When he stood up again, all that remained in his eyes was a lifeless, gray emptiness.

There were no orders, no communication.

The pirate who had come back from the dead turned and walked toward the winch, his movements stiff yet precise.

Then came the second one, the third one...

The once chaotic deck became orderly.

Hundreds of pirates who were just moments before fighting to the death were now like a group of puppets, silently pulling the sails, turning the rudder, and adjusting the rigging.

Their movements were so synchronized it was nauseating.

Wow——!
Following some unseen signal, hundreds of pirate ships in the harbor simultaneously changed course.

The oppressive feeling of uniformity is more despairing than chaotic fighting.

The entire fleet seemed to have been taken over by a single brain, transforming into some kind of massive, silent monstrous horde.

Miller felt his throat was dry.

Is this the truth about this sea area?
“Go…go quickly!”

He turned around and roared at the helmsman, his voice distorted.

No matter what that thing was, he didn't want to look at it a second time.

Even escaping to the ends of the earth is better than becoming a walking corpse.

The Scorpion desperately fled out to sea.

The east was beginning to lighten with the first light of dawn.

The sea breeze dispersed some of the fog, and Miller instinctively looked north.

There was a dark figure there.

At first he thought it was a dark cloud, or a moving island.

But that thing was moving.

A deep rumble traveled across the sea, not the whooshing of sails filled with wind, but a heavier, more rhythmic vibration.

"Boom, boom, boom."

It was like the beating of a giant's heart.

Two jet-black plumes of smoke pierced the morning mist, appearing particularly glaring against the gray sky.

Then, it smashed through the fog.

A giant steel ship without any sails.

It was enormous; its dark, steel hull resembled a mobile fortress on the sea, cold and rough, exuding a ruthless industrial aura.

Two backward-leaning chimneys were spewing thick smoke into the sky, the smell of burning coal mixed with sulfur, instantly overpowering the fishy odor of the sea.

It doesn't need a tailwind, nor does it care about the waves.

The sharp ram at the bow cleaved the sea surface, and white waves were forcibly crushed on both sides by the steel hull.

Around it followed a dozen or so frigates that were also belching black smoke.

There are no superfluous decorations, no fancy figureheads.

They were arranged in an absolutely precise wedge-shaped array, with the spacing between each ship as if measured with a ruler.

The suffocating feeling that hit me was completely different from the eerie fishmen behind me.

This is a wall, a mobile high wall made of steel, steam and artillery.

Miller forgot to breathe for a moment.

That's the flag of the Red Tide Territory; Louis's army has arrived.

(End of this chapter)