Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports Chapter 203: Brood Commando

“This village... it’s worse than I expected.”

Louis stood behind a broken stone wall, his palm resting on a ruined brick, his gaze fixed on the village center. Whispers surged like a tide, yet lingered like fragnted wisps in the wind, refusing to dissipate.

In the square, the “villagers” moved slowly on the cracked stone slabs, like puppets with their souls extracted.

Their clothes were tattered, their skin ashen, their eyes clouded like dead fish, yet their lips constantly twitched, murmuring sothing softly.

“Don’t you think the state of these Worm-Eaten Households is different from the ones we found last ti in Cold Fir Ridge?” Eduardo was the first to speak, his gaze sweeping over the wandering figures. “Those were just controlled corpses. But these people—”

“These Worm-Eaten Households seem to retain a tiny bit of ‘self’,” Louis replied. “More like semi-parasitic,” Eduardo mused, stroking his chin.

“The question is, why retain ‘consciousness’? If it’s for control, the efficiency is too low. If the mastermind simply wants to tornt... that’s too artistic.”

Louis nodded, his gaze falling on the center of the village.

It was a stone altar, about two ters high, its edges weathered and mottled, a sacred place originally ant for ceremonies or offerings.

But at this mont, the altar had long since changed its appearance.

Dark red vines were maliciously entwined around it, dense and intertwined like a spider’s web cocoon.

The surface of the vines was a semi-transparent fibrous tissue, and black-red liquid seed to flow slowly within it.

“It—it’s moving,” Eduardo narrowed his eyes, his voice barely audible.

They both saw that the mass of vines was not still—it was subtly rising and falling, as if breathing.

“It’s not like accidental wind or tremors; there’s a life response,” Louis squinted, staring at the irregular Creep.

“Or it’s gestating,” Eduardo whispered, his tone unusually solemn.

“A Mother Nest?” Louis tentatively asked.

Eduardo nodded: “The possibility is not small.”

A silence fell between them, as they both knew what this implied.

Eduardo glanced sideways at his younger brother beside him, and finally spoke in a low voice: “Are you sure you can handle this ti?”

“What do you an?” Louis tilted his head to look at him.

“I know you took out a Mother Nest once before,” Eduardo sighed softly, “but that ti, Duke Edmund, a Peak Knight, was holding down the rear. This ti is too risky.”

Louis calmly replied, “You already tried to persuade once before you ca. I won’t take risks when I’m not confident. If there’s a problem, I’ll evacuate imdiately. The route has already been planned.”

Eduardo stared at him for a few seconds, then finally sighed softly: “Alright, as long as you know what you’re doing.”

And as they conversed, a continuous stream of Knights was already infiltrating the outskirts of the village.

In groups of five, moving in coordination, they stealthily lurked around the village.

They wore a new type of black and silver armor, sleek in design, with special flexible protective layers at the joints that not only insulated heat but also offered so resistance to acid and parasitic needles.

In each group, two n carried heavy flathrower devices, their muzzles resembling savage ape teeth, with pipes connected to compressed fuel tanks on their backs.

Another carried a specialized Magic Bomb launcher, with ammunition already loaded.

The remaining three were ard with cold weapons for close combat: long spears, greatswords, and gauntlets were all accounted for, and each man also had a light Magic Bomb and a spare fuel bottle hanging at his waist.

Their movent was almost silent, with only faint tallic rubbing and the soft crunch of boots on the muddy ground.

“These are?” Eduardo raised an eyebrow, a rare hint of interest showing.

“These are the ‘Worm-Eaten Household Special Attack Teams’,” Louis answered calmly. “We suffered too many losses in the last battle, so I learned from it and simply ford a unit specifically to deal with these things.”

Eduardo’s gaze lingered on the special attack team mbers, his brows slightly furrowed.

“What are those bottles hanging from their waists for? Lamp oil?” He pointed to a row of tal canisters on one warrior’s hip. “Wouldn’t that spill?”

Louis said mysteriously, “You’ll know when you see it.”

The moonlight was dim, and the wind swept through the charred rubble of the desolate village. All the Knights were in position.

Louis stood on a broken high platform, whispering, “Ready, begin.”

The commander beside him, with his left hand behind his back, slowly raised the command flag with its crimson background and golden lines.

“Signal confird.”

“All teams in position, silent infiltration.”

The five-man Knight special attack teams, clad in their customized black and silver armor, moved like iron currents cutting through the night shadows.

The darkness concealed them as they silently infiltrated key points on the outskirts of the village, taking high ground and fire positions.

“Magic Bomb, ready.”

Light Magic Bombs were quietly placed in the central area of the village.

Then, an almost imperceptible gesture was given, and the next instant—BOOM!!!

Orange-red flas seed to fall from the sky, like an enraged setting sun, suddenly exploding in the heart of the village.

Heat waves stirred up ash, and fireballs soared into the air, instantly engulfing everything within ten ters around them.

The forms of the Worm-Eaten Households exploded in the inferno, their limbs violently twisting and twitching, flesh charring and peeling away in the high heat, before they fell to the ground after emitting horrifying screeches.

Within twenty-five ters, large areas of buildings were affected, and wooden houses collapsed with a roar.

Watchtowers tilted and crumbled in the wave of fire, and the “villagers” in their somnambulist state were consud by the flas in a mix of awakening and confusion, their screams tearing through the wind.

The ground trembled as if a land dragon had turned over, scorched earth ripped into cracks, and the firelight illuminated the night sky as if it were day.

“A good start.” From a distant high ground, Eduardo looked at the sea of fire where red flas and shadowy corpses intertwined, sighing softly, “The power of these Magic Bombs is among the best even in the Imperial Capital. I didn’t expect you to have such massive firepower at your disposal.”

“This is just the beginning,” Louis stood beside him, staring intently below.

Although these light Magic Bombs caused significant damage, the Worm-Eaten Households were not mindless creatures; their counterattack was even more swift and bizarre than imagined.

Screams ca from within the village, and those “humanoid figures” that had been swaying as if sleepwalking now seed to be awakened by so will.

They were no longer confused but let out low roars, rushing towards the source of the fire!

So were already dismbered, their bellies blown open, yet they could still support themselves with their hands and pounce to attack.

So had their throats burned off, but they used their knees and feet to sprint like specters!

One Worm-Eaten Household, whose arms had been blown off and half its body charred, suddenly twitched and writhed on the ground, and its chest slowly bulged.

Sothing was writhing beneath its skin, as if a second heart was beating.

The next instant, with a “thump,” the charred skin was torn apart.

A black-purple totem suddenly erged on it, like a parasitic Tattoo, coiling around the Worm-Eaten Household’s chest, arms, and even the back of its neck.

These totems were like living things, slowly writhing on the Worm-Eaten Household’s body; with each throb, the flesh boiled a little more.

Boom!!

Several Worm-Eaten Households suddenly erupted with dense black energy, releasing power akin to battle aura, charging towards the Knights!

“Is that Blood Boiling Berserk?!” Louis’s pupils suddenly contracted, almost subconsciously whispering.

Even he couldn’t help but show a hint of surprise.

Eduardo’s expression changed slightly upon hearing this.

He also knew the term; it was a forbidden art originating from ancient tribes in the Northern Lands.

Only when truly in a desperate situation, with no way out, would a Snowsworn activate the blood-colored totem buried deep within their chest.

In that instant, their blood seed to ignite, forcibly stimulating all potential, causing muscles to swell wildly, pupils to turn blood-red, and combat power to surge several tis over!

But the cost was equally terrifying: skin tearing, internal organs bursting, bleeding from seven orifices, bones shattering—

The mont the power was exhausted, the user’s body would collapse and die like an empty shell drained of its essence.

This secret art should only be mastered by true “Northern Barbarian Warriors”

But now, those Worm-Eaten Households could use it too?!

And these Worm-Eaten Households weren’t afraid of death at all!

In the firelight, the monsters with black-purple totems were running wildly, releasing the power of expanding flesh and blood as they burned.

The arm of one Worm-Eaten Household continuously tore and reshaped as it ran, its epidermis bulging like living snakes coiling, and its rapidly growing muscles even tore through fragnts of its armor.

They roared as they charged at the Knights, like savage beasts surging from a boiling sea of blood.

Of course, Louis’s Knights were not unprepared.

Facing the charging Worm-Eaten Households, they quickly changed formation, longswords and spears clashing and sweeping in the firelight, the sound of tal colliding with putrid flesh echoing through the night!

“Ah—they can’t hold them.” Standing on the high slope, Eduardo frowned, a hint of worry flashing in his eyes.

These Worm-Eaten Households were not ordinary dead creatures.

They could still run wildly in the flas, and even emitted crimson battle aura from their bodies, their fighting style mixing the techniques of human warriors with the brute force of wild beasts.

These were no longer normal undead, but reinforced combat weapons.

“This batch of Knights of yours... I’m afraid they’ll be completely wiped out.”

He looked at Louis beside him, his tone tinged with a hint of distress.

“Don’t rush,” Louis rely uttered two calm words.

The next instant—

“BOOM!!!!!”

A deafening roar suddenly erupted.

Among the Knights, the man with the round canister on his back and the thick-barreled tal device on his shoulder suddenly pulled the trigger!

Hiss—!!

The pressure valve opened abruptly, and a thick tongue of fla shot out from the main nozzle!

It was a burning power more violent than magic!

Crimson flas mixed with Fire Scale oil, transforming into a high-temperature, blazing dragon's tongue in the air, roaring and pouncing towards the enemy lines!

“What is that?” Eduardo’s pupils constricted sharply, his body instinctively leaning forward, his voice betraying a rare hint of tension and horror.

He saw that the flas spewing forth were not ordinary combustion, but like the Grim Reaper’s whip, brandishing destructive arcs in the air.

Worm-Eaten Household corpses scread and writhed in the flas, dismbered limbs flying everywhere, in agony and madness.

The black-purple totems on the parasitic bodies burst into charred slag under the intense heat, their very right to struggle stripped away.

Even more terrifying, the flas seed to have a life of their own; the high-temperature oil clung like venomous snakes, igniting upon contact and burning inextinguishably.

Once an Worm-Eaten Household corpse was ignited, even if it fell to the ground, it would only carry the fire into the shadows and dark alleys, dragging those undiscovered Worm-Eaten Households into purgatory as well!

Eduardo’s heart pounded heavily.

He had seen the cruelty of war, and he had seen the effectiveness of weapons.

But this scene completely shattered his past understanding and experience.

“This... this isn’t magic.” He whispered, his tone not one of denial, but rather one of shocked confirmation, “Nor is it alchemy. There aren’t even any battle aura fluctuations, yet it can create such terrifying lethality—”

His gaze was fixed on the fla-throwing device, which resembled a crack to hell, his voice a little hoarse: “Did you—invent it?”

He didn't know if Louis himself had created this, or if he had a genius craftsman under his command.

But either way, one thing was clear to him: such a weapon had never appeared in other territories.

Louis did not turn back, his voice calm yet revealing an undisguised sharpness: “The product of painful introspection, nad the ‘Fire Scale Flathrower,’ born specifically for Worm-Eaten Household assaults. Unfortunately, materials are scarce, and finished products are rare—”

Before he finished speaking, the hellfire had already transford the entire alleyway into a crimson furnace, and the wailing of the Worm-Eaten Household echoed in a continuous roar.

In the battlefield, the Knight five-person team quickly deployed, advancing in the “T-formation” practiced nurous tis beforehand.

The main flathrower at the front advanced steadily like the core of the battlefield, the nozzle on his shoulder continuously spewing raging flas.

The secondary flathrowers moved flexibly on both wings, weaving through the lines of fire, patching up any gaps—even a single escaped Worm-Eaten Household,

would not be able to get a step closer.

The other Knights road the flanks of the formation, intercepting with crossbows and long spears.

Every Knight was well-trained, reacting swiftly and coordinating skillfully; any Worm-Eaten Household corpse attempting to break through the fire line would be pierced through the skull by arrows or sent flying by a spear within seconds!

The first batch of hit Worm-Eaten Households had no chance to react before being engulfed by the flas.

The high temperature instantly ripped apart their remaining skin, flesh vaporized in the scorching heat, tendons curled, and bones cracked and burst within their bodies.

In just half a minute, the crisscrossing coverage of the flathrowers transford the narrow alley ahead into a fiery purgatory.

Flas swept over brick walls, climbed onto rooftops, and surged beneath eaves; the orange-red sea of fire was like the open maw of a ferocious beast, devouring every hidden, moving, and struggling Worm-Eaten Household corpse!

So Worm-Eaten Household corpses had an entire arm explode with a “pop,” bones popping out of the wound like popcorn, accompanied by the sll of burnt flesh, drifting in the night wind.

So Worm-Eaten Household corpses frantically crashed into walls trying to escape, only to be directly consud by the burning oil-fire on the wall, rolling on the ground and screaming horribly, turning into a pile of charred ash!

An Worm-Eaten Household that had just rushed out of the alley entrance was about to leap up but was struck mid-air by a tongue of fla that swept across its waist, causing its abdon to burst.

The insect eggs and maggot sacs inside its cavity burst open with a “plop,” spewing out a mass of hot, wriggling insects, which were also licked away by the flas the mont they hit the ground.

The temperature rapidly soared, and the air was filled with a nauseating mix of charred flesh and putrid stench.

On the ground, the flas spread rapidly, forming rings of “fire-lock zones.”

As long as an Worm-Eaten Household corpse dared to jump or charge, its body would be burned through by the high temperature in mid-air, transforming into a burning fireball, and upon falling to the ground, its bones would already be charred and broken, unable to move!

“Empty!” the main flathrower shouted, and the tongue of fla instantly extinguished in the air, leaving only rolling smoke.

He decisively stepped back, holding up the empty canister as a signal.

“My turn!” The secondary flathrower, who had been ready on the side, charged forward, skillfully taking over the main flathrower’s position. The mont the trigger was pulled, deep orange flas roared forth again, engulfing the approaching Worm-Eaten Household like a roaring dragon!

At the sa ti, an Apprentice Knight had rushed to the main flathrower’s side, quickly kneeling to operate.

Smoothly, with a few crisp clicks, and with astonishingly skilled speed, the new canister was already replaced.

The main flathrower nodded in confirmation, re-shouldered the weapon, and returned to the formation.

Under the roar of the flas, the flathrower squad advanced steadily and orderly like a burning beast, tearing open a charred path through the night and the Worm-Eaten Household.

The Knight squad advanced step by step, pressing forward like an unstoppable iron current, resembling a wall of fire.

Any Worm-Eaten Household corpse would ignite upon contact, screaming and falling into the fiery hell—not one escaped alive.

However, just as they advanced to the center of the village, the wind direction suddenly changed.

First, a low, panting airflow moved through the ruins, the ground trembled slightly, and the surrounding Worm-Eaten Household corpses suddenly froze, as if they had heard the call of the mother organism.

“Retreat.” Louis noticed sothing was wrong and imdiately ordered the squad to fall back.

A clear command ca from beneath the battle standard.

The main flathrower nodded, without hesitation, and made the retreat gesture.

The entire team quickly moved backward, maintaining their formation, leaving behind a field of charred embers, moving away from the terrifying mother organism that was about to fully “hatch.”

And just as they retreated to a safe distance, “Thump.”

The earth gave another dull thud, like a heavy hamr striking a heart.

The next mont, the ruins behind the stone altar suddenly began to writhe.

Sothing “crawled” out of the rubble and piles of corpses.

The Broodmother, descended.

It slowly, like shedding a shell from underground, grew out.

A colossal living mass, like a grayish-white tumor, covered in blood vessels, a fleshy “flower” blooming atop a sea of corpses—

Its texture was like resin wrapped in mucus, moist and soft, emitting a foul-slling iridescent reflection, accompanied by the sound of tearing mbrane.

The “honeycomb” structure slowly unfolded, revealing writhing egg chambers.

The insect fetuses within were transparent and visible, constantly rolling and struggling in the bodily fluids, shrieking like infants, as if they were fiends born in the Broodmother’s womb.

Even more horrifying, countless ghostly human faces faintly appeared on the surface of the nest body.

Their expressions # Nоvеlight # were either angry or wailing, like distorted freezes from their last monts, forever sealed within this fleshy wall, slowly writhing their lips, yet unable to make a sound.

And at the very center of that altar, a massive core flesh sac hung, supported and supplied by dozens of thick tentacles.

Blood vessels and networks were clearly visible, and each expansion and collapse emitted a “thump!” like an iron hamr striking a heart.

Accompanied by the gushing of foul-slling mist, the ground began to ooze mucus, and tentacles erged from underground.

Their ends bore barbs and bone teeth, suddenly springing out like living snakes, snapping a broken pillar by the roadside, and emitting an ear-numbing hum.

It was the Snowsworn who had “nurtured” it with the flesh and blood of Knight and noble corpses.

On the high platform in the distance, Eduardo gazed at the writhing Broodmother, his eyes filled with shock.

“This is stronger than the previous Broodmother,” he murmured softly, his voice seemingly caught in his throat, “Not just in size, its structure is more complex, its core deeper—”

In contrast, Louis, standing beside him, rely remained silent for a mont, his brow furrowing slightly.

Eduardo slowly took half a step back, turned to look at Louis beside him, and said in a low voice:

“Louis, this thing isn’t sothing your few Knight squads can handle. This Broodmother is much stronger than the last one. You should go ask Duke Edmund for aid.”

However, Louis rely waved his hand indifferently, his gaze never leaving the Broodmother.

“Not yet,” he said, his tone calm.

He then waved a hand behind him, and an adjutant imdiately took the order, bringing over a piece of equipnt, setting up a tripod, and firmly securing it on the edge of the platform ahead.

It was a Magic Bomb launcher, its heavy body gleaming with dull tallic light, the front rotary slot already in place, and with a crisp “click,” the first Magic Bomb was slowly loaded.

Eduardo frowned, took a few steps closer, and looked down at the device: “This isn’t much different from what your Knights use. You should know, Magic Bombs of this level are useless against that kind of Broodmother now.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Louis said calmly, still not turning around, “Just watch.”

Then he gave a concise order to the Knight beside him: “Don’t fire yet. Wait until I say ‘Fire,’ then you act.”

“Yes!”

The Knight imdiately stood up straight and answered, his gaze fixed on the slowly twitching, nightmare-like writhing Broodmother at the end of the fire line.

His fingertip rested on the trigger button, but he dared not move it an inch prematurely.