Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence

The Crown of Golden Thorns suddenly lit up, a blinding emerald green poisonous light bursting from deep within the crown.

Like a flare forcibly ignited, the entire Holy Curtain Hall responded in turn.

The pink moss-like floor beneath Louis’s feet suddenly lost its form, the surface collapsing and melting in an instant, transforming into a high-viscosity digestive fluid.

At the same time, the golden ribs on both sides began to close inward at sharp angles, as if trying to nail the intruder directly in the center.

Scarlet fighting energy burst from Louis’s feet, forcibly pushing the viscous mucus away, rolling around him yet unable to touch the soles of his boots.

He then pressed against the contracting bone walls, using the immense inward pressure to accelerate in reverse.

"Boom——"

The scarlet footprints exploded into cracks on the golden rib bones.

Louis’s figure shot like a cannonball, aiming directly at the twisted golden tree in the center of the hall.

However, at the moment he was airborne, the Holy Hall completed the next stage of its defense switch.

A low, resonant hum emanated from deep within the ceiling.

Countless semi-transparent emerald green thorns descended, piercing the back of the necks and spines of twenty-four withered corpses on the flesh walls on either side.

The corpses suddenly convulsed.

Hollow eye sockets ignited with ghostly green flames, the thorny wires taunt, transforming them from displays into weapons.

Twelve corpses first detached from the flesh wall, and as they landed, their bones pierced through their withered skin, their movements stiff but imbued with past instincts.

In life, they had been the strongest Holy Hall Knight Captains, Sword Saints, Adjudicators...

All were the most elite talents of the Church Court, but now they were just battle puppets repeatedly called upon.

The other twelve remained embedded in the walls, their remaining chest cavities expanded, throats opened by thorns, emitting chants not of human origin, resulting in a spiritual attack.

The air changed in quality, corrosive toxic fog and compressed light bullets formed around them, beginning to predict landing points.

The first close-combat puppet was already closing in, previously a Sword Saint of the Church Court, unrivaled in the world, yet now broken beyond dignity.

But even so, he still possessed the strength of a Peak Knight.

The instant the dual swords swung, they sealed all possible landing points for Louis, an inescapable golden whirlwind.

But at this moment, the world stood still in Louis’s eyes.

[Bloodline Talent · Trajectory] activated.

Colors stripped away, leaving only lines and expected paths.

All trajectories within the next few seconds unfolded simultaneously on his retina, like a pre-drawn anatomical diagram.

In mid-air, he made an almost imperceptible side shift.

Only one centimeter.

The golden sword energy swept past his temple, slicing off a few strands of hair.

In the moment of crossing, Louis’s wrist flicked.

The longsword brushed with a faint purple mist, precisely sweeping past the back of the Sword Saint’s neck.

"Snap." The sound was faint, the iron-hard emerald green thorn instantly snapped.

The puppet, still maintaining a charging stance, fell forward due to inertia, then crashed face-first to the ground, completely losing control.

Almost simultaneously, the emerald green spiritual tendrils extended through the air.

The Crown of Golden Thorns began a direct intervention, attempting to read Louis’s thoughts.

The next moment, a layer of platinum starlight lit up on Louis’s surface.

The spiritual tendrils crumbled upon contact with the light curtain, like snowflakes into magma, leaving no trace.

His consciousness was calm and closed, with no emotional anchor available to grasp.

Louis did not sever the link; instead, he followed the mental path, directly injecting a pink feedback back.

The twelve magic puppets in mid-air convulsed simultaneously.

The chanting abruptly ceased, twisted faces showing expressions of extreme ecstasy, as if fulfilling a lifelong unattainable wish in an instant.

Their spiritual network completely shorted out in the next second, bodies losing support, falling from the flesh wall like kites with broken strings.

Yet, it brought Louis no relief, as heavy armored puppets took the stage at the other side.

Three massive figures clad in thick golden bone armor collided in a triangular formation, devoid of technique, purely an accumulation of force, causing the Holy Hall’s floor to heave violently under their stomp.

Trajectory instantly found the optimal solution, Louis gripped the hilt tightly, directly channeling scarlet power into the blade.

The metal emitted a mournful cry under the load, yet Louis swung it like a baseball bat.

"Get lost."

A sweeping strike sought no technique, only results.

The shock wave detonated in the air, shattering the bone armor of the three heavy armored puppets simultaneously, their bodies flung back, deeply embedded into the flesh walls on either side, like specimens nailed into the wall.

And the rest of the attacks followed in quick succession.

Toxic rain, bone spikes, self-destructing entities, assassin-type puppets emerging from the ground... all the crown’s means poured down in a barrage.

Louis lifted his left hand, dark purple mist swirling into a micro vortex, swallowing all the attacks in mid-air.

He actively stepped into the puppet army, beginning a smooth counterattack.

Every sidestep, every strike, falls precisely at the critical points.

The sword blade traced a purple light through the air, severing the green thorn vines controlling them.

The puppets froze in attacking stances behind him.

Half a second later, a dense sound of breaking lines resounded.

All the puppets fell simultaneously.

Yet Louis had not even taken a breath.

Louis’s gaze lifted, landing on the somewhat similar face within the golden tree: "If they were still alive, perhaps they might have stalled me for a while."

He casually tossed the already cracked longsword to the ground, the metallic clatter echoing in the spacious chamber.

"But these things you’re controlling..." Louis removed his gloves, tossing them at his feet, "aren’t even enough to make me use my full strength."

Sitting in the center of the throne, Eduardo did not react with the expected rage.

In contrast, his expression gradually relaxed, and on that wax-yellow face, there emerged an extreme, unsettling sincerity.

His features seemed like wax figures softened by high temperatures, slowly and unnaturally displaced, the corners of his mouth curling into a gentle arc, as if trying hard to recall an expression long forgotten.

He opened his arms, his voice tender and almost affectionate: "Brother, you’re too tired, the outside world is too noisy, too dirty, too unfair."

His gaze fell upon Louis, and within those eyes, the distinction between pupil and iris blurred, leaving only a murky gold-green.

"Become one with us."

Yet starkly contrasting with the tenderness on Eduardo’s face, the feather crown began to convulse madly.

The thorny wings no longer kept their original rhythm, instead trembling rapidly, emitting sharp sounds akin to teeth grinding, as if crushing something unseen.

Louis didn’t even react but merely watched coldly at the entity on the throne.

Eduardo’s hands suddenly clasped together.

"Buzz—!!" A distorted rumble exploded within the hall.

The golden ribs supporting the space structure began to rotate entirely; the originally stable chamber was forcibly twisted into a mass, everything in view starting to spin.

The pink coating on the ground was the first to be torn open.

Soon, all matter within the palace was simultaneously thrown into the air, mingling in the chaotic gravitational field, forming an ever-expanding vortex of flesh and blood.

Countless golden thorns reached out from the vortex, trying to drag the person standing at the center into it.

But facing this frenetic hellish spectacle, Louis didn’t even adjust his stance.

The crimson Fighting Energy underfoot abruptly burst, pinning his body firmly to a fixed coordinate.

No matter how the space spun and twisted, he remained perpendicular to the ground that he recognized beneath him.

Meanwhile, the Primordial Heart slowly released a platinum light screen, thin as a cicada’s wing.

The flying rotten flesh, acid, severed limbs, and thorns were forcefully repelled less than three centimeters from his body.

The entire world was spinning and tearing apart.

Only the point where Louis stood remained quiet and tidy, as immovable as a mountain.

This discordance caused the golden thorn crown to utterly lose control...

Eduardo’s face, struggling to maintain a gentle expression, finally couldn’t hold anymore.

His mouth twitched, his voice ripping into shapeless shrieks: "Why?! Why are you different?!!"

The golden thorn crown trembled wildly, green light surging.

"Since I can’t destroy you..." his voice suddenly lowered, filled with hysterical greed, "Then I’ll become you!!"

In the next moment, Eduardo’s body swelled violently.

"Bang—!"

The wax-yellow shell exploded like a deflated sack.

Countless golden-green thorns shot out simultaneously from the trunk and feather crown, like uncontrolled pythons, lunging straight at Louis.

The tips of the thorns rapidly changed during flight, appearing with a familiar and unsettling outline... a multitude of faces resembling Louis.

They opened their mouths, lunging at Louis, as even a brief proximity could complete the final substitution.

Only at this moment did Louis finally raise his hand, calmly spreading his fingers, his palm facing the monsters that grew alike him.

A dark purple mist burst out instantly.

When the first thorn touched his palm, it did not pierce the skin.

It directly melted, and the purple mist rapidly spread backward along the thorn.

The light within the hall suddenly distorted.

The purple mist spread swiftly, forming a black hole devouring everything around.

Even the scarcely remaining Life Force that originally belonged to Eduardo couldn’t escape, dragged into the dark purple void.

"Sizzle—" A deep and continuous sound echoed through the air, akin to an unsettling chewing noise.

Only then did the golden thorn crown begin to fear, as the pervasive thorns trembled violently.

Louis raised his head, his pupils no longer retaining a human form, molten-gold slitted eyes cold and cruel against the backdrop of the dark purple mist.

The frantically retracting thorns froze instantly.

The remaining body of Eduardo lost support in mid-air and fell heavily to the ground.

Louis retracted the purple mist and walked forward.

On Eduardo’s face, a twisted expression of half-cry and half-smile remained.

But as his sight finally met Louis, deep within his eyes, there was a brief restoration of clarity, an expression resembling a belated relief.

Louis lifted his right hand, red light gathered at his fingertips, forming a thin and sharp light blade like a scalpel.

"It might hurt a little."

He spoke lightly, reaching into the still writhing thorns, accurately grasping the frenetically beating green core.

"Rip—!!!"

Louis expressionlessly tore out the core of the golden thorn crown violently.

At the moment the core was lost, all maintained within the hall simultaneously failed.

Flesh, bones, membranes, and ribs lost support in mid-air, rapidly collapsing like ashes burned away.

Only a rainfall of falling debris remained.

Louis stood in the center of the ruins, bowing his head to look at Eduardo, whose swift desiccation could be seen.

That body could no longer maintain its form, flesh peeling from bones like sand, scattered by the wind.

Louis reached out, gently closing his eyes for him.

Then he looked at the green core in his palm, which continued to faintly pulse.

Without hesitation, Louis clenched his fingers.

"Crack."

The core in his palm was crushed into fragments.

Green mist seeped out, slowly merging into his mind.