Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence Chapter 758 - 422: The Power of the Dragon Remains

The downpour had just ceased.

Clouds had parted, allowing cold daylight to stream down, illuminating the broken ramparts of Grey Rock Castle.

Rainwater streamed unchecked through the fractured stone, mixing with dark red fluid and forming small rivulets before the city gates.

The Red Tide Legion's steam tanks rumbled as they entered the gateway.

Their heavy steel armor churned the ground; the sound of their treads was a sickening, squelching grind, as if the wheels were crushing through thawing mud.

The streets, towers, and plazas lay in deathly silence.

No living souls remained.

At the center of the square, the ground had lost its original color entirely.

No intact bodies, nor even complete skeletons, could be found.

Dark red flesh pulp, reaching half a foot thick, covered the entire expanse, and as the rain hit it, the mass slowly churned, still emitting a faint steam.

Evidence of explosions was visible everywhere.

Every wall had been repainted with a rain of blood, crimson rivers flowing down the stone patterns like an unfinished mural.

Each breath drawn into the lungs carried a nauseating, sticky sweetness.

The inner surfaces of the gate were riddled with impact craters, the stone blackened and showing signs of intense heat scorching.

Louis observed it all from within the command vehicle, looking through the window.

Weir stood a half-step behind him, his gaze also fixed on the repeatedly pulverized square within the city.

Even for someone who had served Louis for many years, such a scene was rarely witnessed.

"They sealed the gates," Weir stated, a distinct chill in his voice. "They intended to keep us out, but ultimately, they sealed their own doom."

Louis remained silent for a moment.

When the artillery barrage commenced and the Dragon Blood forces lost all control, their fate was sealed.

All the hastily assembled troops triggered a chain reaction within the confined space, leaving no avenue for escape or a sliver of hope.

He felt no sense of triumph.

"The people inside lost their minds, leaving themselves with no way out," Louis finally declared.

The cleansing procedure commenced simultaneously.

Knights of the Red Tide advanced in multiple formations, deploying shoulder-mounted flamethrowers and high-pressure water cannons concurrently.

Tongues of flame swept across the ground, completely incinerating the coagulated flesh, followed by high-pressure water jets flushing the remaining filth into the drainage channels.

Inside the command vehicle, Louis stayed seated, watching through the glass as tanks and soldiers methodically advanced through the city.

This was hardly a scene worthy of celebration.

It was a hellscape meticulously crafted by the Remont Clan, and also the gruesome finale orchestrated by his own command.

.....

The steam tank halted in the castle courtyard, its engine's residual heat still palpable. The blood-soaked slurry beneath its treads was continuously compressed, slowly receding into the depressions.

Louis opened the vehicle door and stepped out.

A select few accompanied him.

Weir walked to his left, his hand never straying from his sword's hilt.

Sacco and a handful of other personal guards fanned out, establishing a rudimentary protective formation.

As they trod upon the ground, the soles of their boots sank with a faint yet distinct sound into the layer of still-warm, viscous material.

The air still held a pungent aroma, the scent of blood mingling with burnt matter, instinctively causing one's throat to constrict.

Louis did not pause, heading directly towards the main building's shadowed facade.

The entrance to the subterranean levels was concealed behind a collapsed archway.

Stone steps descended into darkness, each step marked by a noticeable drop in the ambient temperature.

The surface heat and humid air were left behind, replaced by a bone-chilling cold that seemed to penetrate the very marrow.

The torches lining the walls had long since been extinguished, leaving only a few flickering alchemy lamps, their light weak and unsteady.

The deeper they ventured, the more tangible the oppressive pressure became.

It wasn't perceived by sight but originated from deep within the body.

Heartbeats unconsciously slowed; the flow of Fighting Qi grew sluggish, as if the passage itself actively repelled the presence of living beings.

Weir's brows gradually knitted together; he sensed an extraordinary power that had long resided here, its residual traces not entirely dissipated.

He subconsciously slowed his pace and murmured in a low voice, "This odor... it's more than just blood."

Sacco, positioned slightly behind, observed the unnatural markings on the walls and floor, lowering his voice even further. "It's alchemy mixed with blood."

He paused, then added, "If the monstrosities within the city originated from here, it would certainly explain things."

The passage continued its downward course, the pressure intensifying with every step.

Louis offered no reply, continuing his descent.

At the base of the stone stairs, a formidable iron door had been violently ripped from its hinges. The torn edges displayed outward curling fractures, stark evidence of being forcibly broken from the inside.

Sacco observed the door, his breathing momentarily catching. "To rip open a door like that from within... that must have been the strength of an Extraordinary Knight."

Louis halted his steps, cast a glance into the chamber, and then proceeded inward.

The subterranean area was far more expansive than one might have initially guessed.

A soaring dome stretched overhead, its supporting structures laid bare, with colossal metal beams forming spans between them.

The alchemical apparatus, which ought to have been orderly, lay toppled and in ruins across the floor. Glass containers were shattered, and the residue of reagents had long dried, leaving stains of varying intensity upon the ground.

An ancient, chilling aroma permeated the air, reminiscent of blood that had long since congealed.

At the very heart of the space rested a desiccated blood pool.