Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 449 Louis's Strength
The sunlight was completely blocked by the steel, and the blood and debris that had just surged due to the explosion were instantly suppressed into a cold, gray darkness.

"Boom."

The springboard slammed onto the ground with a dull, heavy sound.

A squad of fully armed Red Tide Knights quickly dispersed.

Louis walked at the front, his steps steady, as if he were inspecting his own backyard rather than landing in enemy-occupied territory.

The air on this island is simply unbearable to smell.

The smell of blood, burnt food, and an overripe, cloying sweetness mingled together, like a pile of fruit and corpses fermenting in a sealed jar for a month.

Pink mist drifted slowly between the broken walls and towers, a visible form of spiritual pollution.

If an ordinary soldier stood here, his brain would be turned to mush within three breaths.

The knights' breathing became noticeably heavier.

Cold sweat trickled down the edge of the helmet from their foreheads, and double images occasionally flashed across their retinas, but no one stopped.

Louis, however, didn't react much.

The primordial heart within his body spun at a steady pace, and a platinum-gold starlight flowed through his veins and spread throughout his body.

The illusions that tried to creep into his mind vanished as soon as they touched this light, like snowflakes falling on a stove.

He didn't need to look at a map; that nauseating malice acted like a lighthouse, guiding him.

Walk through the corridor, step over the stone steps, until you push open that incredibly heavy oak door.

The door bearings were making that old, screeching sound, like they'd been neglected for years.

The sight in the hall instantly tensed the muscles of the knights following behind.

Right in the center is a throne.

It wasn't made of wood or stone; it was all human skulls.

It was polished smooth, but the pieces were crooked and uneven, with hundreds of empty eye sockets staring at the doorway, which looked eerie.

Two "people" stood next to the throne.

One was Balk, who wasn't wearing a hat. Half of his skull had been neatly cut off, and his pink brain tissue was exposed to the air, throbbing rhythmically.

Several thin tentacles were embedded deep in the cerebral sulcus, and with each contraction, they made a sticky, watery sound.

The other one is Meryl, wrapped in a black robe, with no shadow beneath her feet.

Or rather, her shadow came to life, with several slippery tentacles moving along the ground, leaving behind trails of glistening slime.

Balk turned around.

In that instant, it was as if the air pressure in the hall had been sucked out.

There was no murderous intent, nor any oppressive aura, just pure... disgust.

When a lower organism sees a predator or something dirty that shouldn't exist, it has a genetically inherited rejection response.

The pupils of the several extraordinary knights suddenly shrank to the size of pinpoints, their hearts pounded wildly, and cold sweat soaked through their inner linings.

This is no longer a question of whether or not we can win.

This is a biological instinct; your body is screaming at you to turn and run away.

Just when this chilling pressure was about to suffocate...

"Drink—!!" A loud roar exploded out.

Will took a step forward, as if he were about to crush the floor.

The power of his bloodline was completely ignited.

A pale red glow emanated directly from his body, instantly expanding into a semi-transparent sphere with a radius of eight meters, enveloping Louis and the knight behind him.

This layer of red light looks thin, like a film of water, but it is extremely resilient and can withstand the attacks of a top-tier knight.

The maddening aura crashed against the shield like waves hitting rocks, and was forcefully blocked.

The ear-piercing whispers disappeared. Even the dust particles floating in the air stopped.

Absolute silence.

Will stood at the front, arms slightly outstretched, veins bulging on his neck like earthworms, sweat dripping from his chin.

He stared intently at the two monsters, his voice hoarse, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth: "Protect the master! These two... something's wrong! Form a protective formation!!"

Even though he was already a half-step peak knight, he could still sense the terror of the two people on the throne.

The knights are still adjusting their formation.

The red shield, like a taut drumhead, kept out the sticky malice in the hall, creating an atmosphere so oppressive it was hard to breathe.

Just as Will was about to fight desperately, a hand wearing a black leather glove landed on his shoulder.

“Don’t be nervous, Will.” Louis’s voice was soft and flat.

Will froze.

He turned around abruptly and watched as Louis took a step forward, as if he found the room too stuffy and wanted to open the window to let in some fresh air.

Under the horrified gaze of all the knights, Louis stepped out of the red light that they had clung to as a lifeline.

He walked alone to the throne.

At this moment, Balk moved, without a starting motion or a power-gathering process.

One second he was standing next to that pile of bones, and the next second there was a crisp sound of cloth tearing in the air.

That speed is abnormal.

That's the inhuman speed that bursts forth when muscle fibers are forcibly overloaded and bones are subjected to extreme pressure.

When it reappeared, the sharp claw was already pressed against Louis's Adam's apple.

The distance is less than half a palm's width.

Will's pupils shrank to pinpoints, but the "be careful" that was stuck in his throat couldn't be uttered in time.

But in Louis's eyes, it was too slow.

It's not that time has slowed down.

His bloodline talent, known as [Trajectory], had already dissected this moment into countless static blueprints.

From the moment he entered, all the data—the frequency of the muscle twitching in Balk's left leg, the angle of his forward spinal tilt, the signal delay of the brain parasite—ran through Louis's mind.

This wasn't a surprise attack; it was coordinated.

Louis didn't even lift his eyelids, and said softly, "Too noisy."

His tone was as flat as if he were scolding a barking dog.

Just before the claws were about to touch the skin, Balk's movements paused by an extremely slight pause.

That's the signal disconnect between the parasitic brain and the body's nerves at extreme speeds.

A physiological bug that only Louis foresaw, a mere 0.1 second in time.

This is the flaw.

Louis raised his left hand, and dark red battle aura exploded from under his sleeve, causing his muscles to swell and engorge instantly.

At the same time, a wisp of greedy, dark purple mist emerged from between his fingers, like a snake with its mouth open.

"Snapped."

With a sharp crack, the claw, capable of slicing through steel plates, stopped in mid-air.

Louis's hand had somehow already gripped Balk's throat with pinpoint accuracy.

Position, angle, force—perfectly precise, as if Balk himself had offered his neck to his tiger's mouth, instantly snapping the immense kinetic energy of the charge.

"Lie down." Louis pressed his wrist down.

"boom!"

The granite floor crumbled like a biscuit, with pebbles scattered everywhere.

Before Balk could even utter a sound, he was slammed into the ground with one hand.

His body was embedded in the cracked pit, and his spine made a series of popping sounds.

The claw hovered in mid-air, only centimeters from Louis's face.

But he could no longer move.

Louis looked down at the monster at his feet, his fingers slowly tightening, his eyes cold.

At that moment, Balk finally experienced true fear.

The "illusory energy" he was so proud of, bestowed upon him by the ruler of the deep sea, should have been able to corrode all steel and will.

But at that moment, the energy that surged out was swallowed up by the purple mist seeping from between Louis's fingers.

Balk felt like a punctured boil, his strength, life, and even the consciousness of the parasitic brain were all draining away wildly through the hand on his neck.

"No... what is this..."

The cartilage in his throat was creaking and he was struggling desperately, but his body honestly went limp because his energy was being drained.

Louis maintained his downward-pressing posture with one hand.

His gaze was indifferent, the golden light deep within his pupils seeming to be looking at the readings on the dashboard. "Too noisy," he said softly, his fingers suddenly tightening.

"Crack!"

It was a tooth-grinding, moist, crisp sound.

There were no dazzling magical clashes, nor any earth-shattering moves.

Louis simply applied an unbearable physical pressure.

Balk's cervical spine shattered like a biscuit.

Next up is the pink brain that is parasitic outside the cranial cavity.

Under the immense gripping force, it didn't even have time to unleash its final mental attack before it was crushed like a rotten tomato.

"Pfft."

The pink liquid exploded, only to be instantly blocked by the layer of purple mist outside Louis's gloves.

Balk's body convulsed violently, then seemed to have its bones removed, turning into a complete pile of rotten flesh.

Louis released his grip and shook it off in disgust.

Balk's headless body lay there, like a pile of rubbish.

Meryl, standing in the shadows, didn't back down, and didn't even glance at the corpse.

"Hiss-!"

A sharp noise escaped from her throat.

The noise didn't sound like something a human could make; it sounded more like two wet pieces of rubber rubbing together frantically, sending chills down your spine.

The originally large black robe was stretched to its limit, and pieces of fabric flew everywhere.

There were no women under the robe.

It was a tangled mass of pink flesh and tentacles, like a giant, pulsating heart, churning incessantly.

Where was once a head, only a mouth painted with bright red lipstick remained, hanging on the pile of rotting flesh, looking both comical and disgusting.

"boom!"

The pink mist exploded.

The air instantly became thick and sticky, as if a bucket of expired honey had been poured in.

A pungent, overripe floral scent mixed with the stench of a corpse assaulted my nostrils.

Will grunted, and even from several meters away, his eyes began to dart around.

Ripples spread across the surface of the red shield.

This thing doesn't harm the body, but it harms the brain.

It wraps around you like warm water, breathes in your ear, urging you to put down your sword, to walk over and merge with that warm, moist nest of flesh.

Louis stood in the center of the fog without even frowning.

The primordial heart within his body spun steadily, like a cold, platinum star.

He shook his hand, brushing off the remaining brain matter from his fingertips, the movement as casual as if he had just washed his hands.

"Stop with the tricks." His voice wasn't loud, cutting straight to the point. "I have no interest in mollusks in heat."

"Om-!"

Platinum-gold starlight rippled outwards from him.

The pink mist that tried to penetrate his pores sizzled as soon as it touched the starlight, like snowflakes falling on a red-hot iron plate, and vanished instantly.

Louis stopped pressing down.

A crimson aura rose from his body, as if he were wearing a cloak of blood that roared there.

At the same time, a dark purple light flickered at his fingertips, transforming into countless tiny, invisible mouths that made clicking sounds.

He raised his eyelids, and deep within his pupils, those pale golden vertical pupils opened completely.

Meryl's fleshy nest shuddered violently.

Dozens of pink tentacles with barbed suckers suddenly sprang out, like a forest of spears, tearing through the air and stabbing towards Louis.

Louis moved, and a crimson power erupted instantly. He left a trail of afterimages in the air, so fast that even the tentacles couldn't react.

"Go away."

With that low shout, Gu Long's aura of being at the top of the food chain crashed down like a heavy hammer.

Those tentacles that were about to kill visibly flinched in mid-air, a natural instinct of prey when it sees its predator.

A thick tentacle slammed down in front of him.

Louis stretched out his right hand, his five fingers, shrouded in purple mist, digging directly into that slick, fleshy mass.

Meryl let out a terrified scream.

She felt it; the purple power surged wildly up the tentacles, greedily devouring her body.

The pink energy was forcibly drawn away, like water flowing into a whirlpool, continuously surging into Louis's body, and then crushed and purified by the Primordial Heart, turning into clean fuel.

Louis dragged the rapidly withering tentacle forward, step by step.

Three-colored rays intertwined around him, making him appear like an unapproachable statue.

“You’re not even a living being,” his voice echoed in the hall. “You’re just a pile of rotten flesh.”

A crimson fist was raised.

"boom!!"

The next second, the shockwave pierced through the entire pink meat nest.

Meryl's screams stopped abruptly.

The enormous body burst open like a punctured balloon.

Before the pink slime could even land, it was swallowed up by the purple mist.

The cloyingly sweet stench dissipated.

The hall returned to its cold and empty state.

Louis stood amidst the chaos, his light slowly receding until only a wisp of white-gold starlight remained as he retreated into his body.

He straightened his cuffs, still looking like that well-dressed young nobleman, his trench coat perfectly pressed, without a single wrinkle.

Will's arm was still twitching slightly from using the Bloodline talent.

What happened in those last few seconds?
I didn't see it clearly, I really didn't see it clearly.

In the eyes of those seasoned knights, the scene was incomplete.

It's like someone roughly cut a piece off a roll of film.

Only a few unsettling glimpses of light and shadow remained on my retina: a crimson afterimage that tore through space, a swirling purple mist, and a fleeting glimpse of gold.

The sound was even delayed.

It wasn't until Louis started adjusting his cuffs that the explosive sound of the air being pierced and the monster's screams overlapped and slowly entered his ears.

Wel slowly stopped, his throat dry.

As a knight who was halfway to the peak, he was well aware of the significance of those two monsters.

That Balk, just his aura alone could immobilize him, and that Meryl was an even bigger monster.

But now?

One was crushed on the ground like a cigarette butt, while the other simply vanished without a trace, leaving not even ashes behind.

Instant kill, a complete and utter instant kill.

"Lord Louis, so it turns out..."

As Will watched the figure slowly wiping his gloves, his gaze gradually shifted from blank to fervent, and his lips parted in an uncontrollable grin that stretched to his ears.

The master hasn't made a move in so long that even his guards have developed the illusion that he's just a commander who needs protection.

But today, this sword, which has been sheathed for many years, was only slightly drawn out by an inch.

The world changed.

Will took a deep breath, pulled the greatsword out of the ground, and held it upside down with the tip pointing downwards.

"Pfft."

He knelt heavily on one knee, his knee shattering the stone slab.

Immediately afterwards, the sound of everyone kneeling down echoed throughout the hall.

No one cared about the lingering smell of blood, nor about the rubble on the ground.

All the knights raised their heads, staring intently at the figure, their eyes shining with an alarming light.

That is the joy that believers only show when they see a real miracle.

(End of this chapter)