Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 450 The Fourth Mysterious Mist

In the deepest part of the Broken Islands, the waves seem to lose their sound.

The entrance to the sea cave called the Tranquil Eye stands quietly between the reefs. The entrance is long and vertical, and its outline resembles a half-open pupil.

There was no wind inside the cave, and the black seawater clung to the rock walls, smooth as a mirror without reflection.

The air was unnaturally still.

Louis had just stopped when he heard a hurried, suppressed sound behind him.

"Please wait, sir." Wel had already stepped in front of him.

The knight knelt on one knee on the slippery rock, raising his head to look directly at Louis.

It was a gaze that was a mixture of fear, responsibility, and shame.

"The atmosphere inside... is not right." His voice was low and hoarse, as if he were fighting against his own instincts.

Will gritted his teeth, the words almost forced out of his throat: "Please allow us to go together. Even if it's just to walk in front, even if... as human shields."

The extraordinary knights behind him also knelt on one knee, saying nothing, but simultaneously gripping their sword hilts tightly.

Sending their lord alone into the unknown abyss is itself a dereliction of duty for them.

Louis slowly adjusted his black gloves, gently smoothing the fine wrinkles on the leather with his fingertips, and smiled, "I understand your desire to stand in front of us, and I know you're not afraid."

Will's breath hitched slightly.

“But what’s inside is not an enemy that can be resisted by willpower and courage,” Louis continued. “It will silently infiltrate your thoughts and make choices for you.”

“If you are used by it, I will have to end you with my own hands.” He said this without looking away. “That is not a price I am willing to pay.”

The air remained heavy, but no longer sharp.

Louis's gaze returned to Weil, carrying an unquestionable sense of entrustment: "So stay here. This is also an order, and it's also my trust in you."

“Any living thing that comes out of it…” He paused, his voice lowering slightly, “...end it.”

Louis walked past Welsh without hesitation.

As his figure completely disappeared into the darkness of the cave entrance, Will slammed his fist into the rock beside him.

The dull thud echoed outside the cave.

Blood trickled down between his fingers and dripped onto the cold rock surface.

…………

The world inside the cave seems to be completely cut off from the outside world.

The moment Louis stepped into the cave, the light behind him seemed to be wiped away by an invisible hand.

As you venture deeper into the cave, the colors on the rock walls begin to change.

On the originally black stone surface, extremely faint pink spots of light appeared, like phosphorescence embedded in the rock, or like some kind of slowly breathing biological tissue.

It was eerily quiet here; Louis could clearly hear his own heartbeat.

The sound was amplified infinitely, appearing particularly jarring in the deathly silence, as if the entire cave was slightly contracting in rhythm with the sound.

The next moment, the smell wafted over.

It's excessively sweet, thick and sticky, with a warm quality that puts you at ease.

Just one breath, and your body will instinctively crave more, crave to stop, crave to stop thinking about anything...

But Louis's steps did not falter at all, and his eyes remained clear.

The primordial heart within the body vibrates slowly, separating the components that attempt to infiltrate consciousness through smell, emotion, and instinct one by one.

The sweetness remained, but it could no longer touch his will.

In this decaying tenderness, Louis, like a piece of cold iron that cannot be melted, walked alone into the deeper part of the cave.

After going about 300 meters into the cave, the terrain suddenly opened up.

The black rock walls recede to both sides, revealing a shallow underground beach formed by long-term erosion by the sea.

The ground was uneven, with tiny bone fragments mixed in with the damp sand and rocks, and a deep, hollow echo reverberated in the air.

A dozen or so enormous stalactite columns hang from the dome, like inverted city wall pillars, cutting this space into a natural cage.

They emerged almost simultaneously from the gaps between the stone pillars and the darkness.

Twelve enormous figures stepped into the shallows, their footsteps causing the sand and rocks to creak under their weight.

The Deep Sea Tyrant Warriors are all clad in thick pink bone armor, with layers upon layers of bone plates, as if they were shells peeled off directly from the bodies of abyssal behemoths.

A giant axe, the size of a door panel, was dragged on the ground. The edge of the axe blade was inlaid with serrated alchemical structures, and it made a piercing noise when it rubbed against the rock.

Their muscles were bulging and bulky, and their chests rose and fell like bellows when they breathed.

That oppressive feeling was almost identical to that of the berserk Balk back then.

Behind them, four figures slowly rose up.

The high priest of the deep sea hovered in mid-air, his emaciated body wrapped in a robe, his bone staff deeply embedded in the ground.

A faint yet continuous pinkish-purple light shone between the bone staffs, intertwining and silently weaving a cursed force field that covered the entire shallows.

If they were on the Earth's surface, they would be called natural disasters.

Now they are facing only one person.

Dozens of murky, greedy eyes focused on Louis simultaneously, with a cruel look in their eyes. They were waiting for the human to show fear or try to back away.

Louis did not stop. He sighed softly and drew the silver, aristocratic-decorated sword from his waist.

The sword is slender and elegant, inlaid with sapphires, and its blade is so thin that it is almost transparent.

This kind of sword should have appeared at ballrooms to adorn status, not to be used for killing.

The crimson mist was the first to rise and swirl upwards.

It wasn't a gentle attachment, but rather like a high-voltage current tightly gripping the sword, forcibly stabilizing the ordinary iron and preventing it from shattering the moment the power was poured in.

Immediately afterwards, a purple light extended from the sword's edge, silently lengthening until it transformed into an invisible blade of light two meters long.

The air was cut open.

The silver decorative sword emitted a faint, piercing wail, its blade trembling slightly, as if it would melt under the intense pressure at any moment.

The monsters moved.

The twelve tyrant warriors stepped forward simultaneously, moving so fast that they left afterimages on the retina.

The giant axe was swung up, its blade tearing through the air and creating heavy wind pressure.

The priests in mid-air simultaneously raised their staffs, and a spiritual shriek, like an invisible tsunami, crashed down.

This is an encirclement that seals off all possibilities, leaving no room for escape.

At that moment, Louis raised his head, and deep within his pupils, his pure gold vertical pupils shone brightly: "Kneel down."

The pressure wasn't directed at any one individual, but rather acted like an invisible curtain, directly covering the entire space.

In the next instant, time seemed to have been forcibly paused.

A dozen figures that were rushing forward at high speed froze in mid-air for a moment.

The axe blade stopped, the incantation broke, and even the flow of air was momentarily slowed.

In the blank space of that frame, Louis's figure disappeared.

A streak of red and purple light silently moved through the monster horde.

Two seconds later.

Louis appeared a dozen meters away, his back to the center of the shallows.

The silver-decorated sword in his hand made a soft, crisp sound.

"Snapped."

The sword shattered into countless tiny metal powders, which fell from his fingers.

It has finally completed its mission.

The sixteen deep-sea monsters behind them, each powerful enough to dominate a region, remained in an attacking stance.

The next instant, fine and straight lines of blood appeared simultaneously on their bodies.

"Whoosh—!" The Tyrant Warrior's head, arms, and torso slid off cleanly, the cuts as smooth as a mirror.

The priest in mid-air didn't even leave behind a corpse; he exploded into clumps of purple, misty debris, which were quickly swallowed up.

The blood didn't even have time to gush out before it disappeared into the air.

Louis released the remaining hilt of his sword, letting it fall to the ground, stepped over the scattered limbs and bodies, and continued deeper into the cave.

…………

Crossing the still-steaming mass of dismembered bodies, Louis continued onward.

The ground beneath their feet was no longer a hard stone surface, but a pale altar made entirely of bones.

Human skulls, fish-man spines, and the ribcages of some giant beasts whose species are no longer distinguishable were forcibly fused and compressed by some force, interlocking with each other to form a bizarre yet stable structure.

It was as if all emotions and life had been drained away, leaving only the shell after it had been squeezed dry.

And in the center of the altar, that thing grew.

A huge, translucent pink crystalline coral.

It is not static; inside the coral, there seems to be a slow tide flowing, and the light rises and falls accordingly, opening and closing like lungs.

With each breath, pink mist was exhaled in all directions.

The mist wasn't glaring; instead, it was soft and warm, carrying a sweet, intoxicating aroma that instinctively relaxed people.

Louis stopped and looked at the coral.

The next instant, ripples appeared on the surface of the coral.

Countless faces appeared, and an unparalleled beauty stretched out her arms, her skin flowing in the light;
There is no war, no responsibility, no cold loneliness, only an infinitely prolonged peace and contentment.

The aroma suddenly became stronger.

It no longer remained in the air, but tried to penetrate the depths of Louis's consciousness through the gaps in his breath, skin, and emotions.

Whispers echoed in my mind.

It wasn't a single sound, but countless overlapping murmurs.

"I'm so tired..."

"Put it down..."

"Melt...become a part of us..."

"There is no pain here, only bliss..."

The voice was so gentle it was almost compassionate.

Within his sea of ​​consciousness, a pink tide surged forth, overwhelming everything.

They are neither impatient nor fierce; they rise slowly and steadily, attempting to completely submerge the isolated island called "reason."

Just as the crest of the wave was about to touch the edge of consciousness, a platinum-gold light shone.

The primordial mind suddenly accelerated its rotation in the center of the sea of ​​consciousness.

The next moment, a magnificent beam of platinum starlight descended from above, stretching across the pink tide like a chasm.

And all three forces responded simultaneously.

The crimson power transformed into blood-red vines, growing from the depths of consciousness, brutally tearing apart the illusions constructed from desire.

The deep purple power surged forth like a swarm of insects, greedy and ruthless, devouring and consuming the pink energy, breaking it down into the most primitive spiritual remnants.

That pale gold hue hung high above everything, like the shadow cast by a throne.

The pink mist was forcibly pulled and rolled back, transforming into a pure torrent of energy that surged into Louis's body, where it was purified and crushed under the radiance of the Primordial Heart.

Louis's consciousness was drawn by an even more ancient residual force, plunging into time itself.

The first scene appeared extremely clearly.

In the dimly lit hall, Balk knelt on the floor.

He closed his eyes, his expression serene, as if waiting for a belated forgiveness.

A translucent brain jellyfish slowly descended from the shadows, its soft tentacles gently touching the back of his head, its movements so tender they were almost reverent.

The tentacles pierced through, and the scalp and bones seemed to melt as if melted by some warm solution, quietly separating to make way for the passage.

Balk's body completely relaxed, and the corners of his mouth involuntarily turned up, revealing a childlike, innocent smile.

The light in his eyes went out at that moment, and a tear lingered at the corner of his eye, but before it could fall, it had already lost its meaning.

The screen then shattered.

The second memory is like a compressed elegy.

On the storm-shrouded sea, a huge ark is slowly sinking.

Its size far exceeds that of the Fernando, and its hull has complex and elegant lines, covered with intricate magic pattern arrays and armor of unknown materials.

This is not a creation of this era.

The enemies that besieged it were not irrational monsters.

That was a murloc army, but completely different from the mad murlocs of today.

They are well-organized, know how to cover, feint, and divide the battlefield, and use complex tools and tactical coordination.

On the bridge of the Ark, a captain in an old uniform stands on the broken deck.

He looked exhausted, but he wasn't hysterical.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered to the void, his voice torn apart by the wind and rain, "Teacher."

The next moment, he drew a short dagger and stabbed himself in the heart without hesitation.

Pink mist seeped from the wound, mingling with the sea breeze.

The third memory is the most hazy, as if separated by countless layers of water and eras.

A young man with black hair sat on a throne made of intertwined giant tree roots.

He was holding an infant in his arms.

Despite his high position, his face showed no glory, only unfathomable sorrow.

It was an expression of someone who foresaw the future but was powerless to stop it.

The image blurred completely here, as if forcibly severed by some will, and all the illusions collapsed at the same time.

Louis suddenly opened his eyes.

The cave remained quiet, and the white skeletal altar stood motionless, as if nothing had ever happened.

The purified pink mist was no longer agitated.

It flowed gently into Louis's sea of ​​consciousness, transforming into the fourth halo, which, along with crimson, deep purple, and pale gold, slowly revolved around the primordial heart.

Louis was only momentarily dazed before regaining his footing.

He did not faint, which means that his body and soul are now able to bear these remnants and memories from the past.

The power brought by the pink color naturally came into his mind.

His words usually carry a subtle psychological suggestion that makes people unconsciously lower their guard and develop trust and closeness to him.

In battle, a single thought can trigger an opponent's sensory nerves, plunging them into a brief but deadly state of ecstatic paralysis, or creating a cognitive bias that can be fatal.

After all this was over, Louis stood in the middle of the silent cave, not leaving immediately.

He finally managed to piece together a vague outline.

These forces do not exist independently; they are the remains left behind by a great being after its death.

And the primordial heart within him...

Perhaps this is the only key to reassembling the body or inheriting its legacy.

“Even my time travel is related to these things,” Louis muttered to himself, his tone calm but no longer relaxed.

“There are three and a half left.” He looked up, his gaze piercing through the darkness of the cave. “Once we get them all… the answer to the mystery might just appear on its own.”

(End of this chapter)