Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 543 - 329: Memory Fragments
Chapter 543: Chapter 329: Memory Fragments
Louis’s chest suddenly tightened.
In the next moment, purple mist penetrated his sea of consciousness, instantly transforming into countless insect shadows.
The crisp sound of shells cracking, the sticky sound of antennae striking, groups of compound eyes coldly stared at him.
They chewed and tore, as if trying to swallow everything into their dark abdomen.
Every screech sounded like endless hunger roaring.
This was not simply murderous intent, but a desire to devour everything.
Even his will, memories, heartbeat, were being tugged to be stuffed into the bloody maw of the insect swarm.
“…Again!? Why do all sorts of messy things keep trying to get into my head!?”
Louis cursed inwardly, his head pounding.
Just as he was about to be torn apart by the noise, a platinum-gold pulse suddenly lit up in his mind.
The Primordial Heart shone.
Platinum starlight flowed like a galaxy, instantly spanning the entire void.
Alongside it was a strand of once crimson mist.
The petals of the rage flower unfolded in flames, the blood vine winding, not attacking him, but coiling around the Primordial Heart, like a guardian.
The insect swarm lunged, opening their tooth-filled mouthparts.
White light and crimson flame rose simultaneously, burning through them instantly.
Thousands of insects turned to ash with screams, skeletal figures disintegrated in the flames.
The entire sea of consciousness echoed with the sound of shattering, but no longer had the oppressive suffocating feeling of tearing.
Louis watched this battle, suddenly realizing he was not pushed to the limit like last time.
The collaboration of crimson mist and Primordial Heart left the purple mist almost no chance to breathe.
In mere moments, the insect swarm was completely consumed, turning into a wisp of embers, absorbed entirely by the platinum light stream.
The sea of consciousness returned to calm.
“Compared to last time’s anger, this purple mist is much weaker.” Louis thought silently.
Perhaps it was just a remnant of will, too weak to truly tear apart his mind.
Just as Louis caught his breath, the world before him suddenly collapsed again.
Before he could react, his consciousness was torn like a torrent, suddenly swept into a foreign river path.
Some memories completely alien to him, carrying the scent of blood and fire, forcibly crashed into his mind.
Firelight suddenly ignited.
Under the shadow of dragons, cities became seas of fire.
Chains dragged countless humans, cries and roars drowned out by the earth-shaking dragon roar.
The Primordial Mage stood among the crowd, eyes bloodshot, gripping a blood-stained stone tightly.
Scene shifted, at a wind and snow altar, a man and woman stood side by side.
Countless Snowfield residents knelt at their feet, foreheads buried deep in snow and ice, as if they were truly ancient deities risen from the ground.
Then, the sound of iron hooves thundered.
The Ironblood Empire’s banner was planted in the Snowfield, the knights’ long spears pressed like a forest.
Villages burned, women and elders were driven away, children’s cries swallowed by wind and snow, turning into silent despair.
Finally, between flames and ashes, the man knelt alone in the ruins, tears streaming.
Purple mist silently rose behind him, like a cold hand opening, slowly enveloping him.
He didn’t struggle, just closed his eyes.
Images flashed repeatedly, as if someone forcibly tore open several strands of history before his eyes.
Louis gritted his teeth, no longer being swept away like the first time.
He desperately tried to capture the details of these fragments, wanting to find the truth related to those mists and the Primordial Heart.
Unfortunately, they still disintegrated in an instant.
He could only tightly hold onto these four images, like grabbing a few leaves in a rolling torrent.
Louis suddenly opened his eyes, finding himself lying in a canyon tent, cold sweat soaking his clothes.
The heaviness in his body remained, but faintly in his heart, there was an indescribable power brought by the purple mist.
He instinctively clenched his fist, feeling this power.
If someone attacked him at this moment, the residual power of the purple mist seemed able to convert damage into energy, becoming his new support.
The death and wreckage on the battlefield would silently nourish him, making him increasingly calm and strong amidst bloodshed and chaos.
If suffering fatal injuries, his body seemed capable of spontaneously promoting healing, accelerating coagulation and recovery.
And in a corpse-strewn environment, his presence would be incredibly vivid, as if he could “swallow the battlefield,” becoming the core of momentum.
These thoughts were not deductions, but instinctively emerged in his heart as if they were innate.
Louis focused, his eyes showing a hint of coldness.
“…The more power like this, the more it signifies war.”
At least for now, he didn’t wish to validate these abilities.
Louis closed his eyes, reminiscing those four fragmented images again.
Kneeling barbarians before the altar… they didn’t look like this era, more like a distant past’s remnant.
He suddenly recalled the mural brought back by the knight, which also had the figures of two people, shrouded by strange mist behind them.
The Nest and Burning Pain Vine Court probably had connections to those two people.
And what did those Empire knight orders represent?
“Let’s see what investigation can reveal from the ruins, and as for Old Snow Country’s history… it needs to be looked into again.” Louis silently noted.
The curtain suddenly lifted, Lambert strode in, his expression with a hint of urgency.
“Lord Louis, you’re finally awake.”
Louis looked up, his voice calm: “How long was I unconscious?”
“Less than three hours.” Lambert breathed a sigh of relief, then asked, “Lord, how do you feel? The doctor examined you and said it was just simple fatigue.”
