Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 813 - 445: Silent Manipulation

When Kane’s body fell, the sound was muffled.

The once tall and strong body seemed to have its bones instantly emptied, crashing heavily onto the ground.

From the broken neck cavity, a column of scalding blood struck the edge of the round table, splattering back onto the stone floor, quickly spreading into a scarlet carpet.

The intense smell of blood instantly overwhelmed the cloying fishy sweetness of the sea beast oil lamps.

The hall was deathly silent.

The head, said to be able to smash a mast, was so cleanly crushed.

It didn’t even have time to let out half a complete scream.

Kane’s eyes were still open, the bulging eyeballs hanging from the sockets, pupils already dilated, frozen with the last confusion and fear.

The remaining three moved almost instinctively.

Losa, Sanders, and Moro, the pirate leaders who usually wished to sink each other into the sea, displayed astonishing synergy at this moment.

In an extremely short time, they stood back-to-back in a stiff triangle, exposing their most vulnerable backs to each other.

Dark red, ink green, pale white.

Three different colors of fighting energy and spiritual energy erupted in the narrow conference hall.

The aura of high-tier transcendents collided wildly, distorting the air with pressure.

The heavy stone table produced a screeching sound from the vibrations, mold spots on the walls crumbled off like gray snow.

They were using strength to forcibly open the doors of sanity.

The battle hadn’t started yet, but Moro was already breaking down. As a Spirit Medium, his perception was far more acute than a Knight’s, and for that reason, he saw much more of the truth than others.

"Get out!!" He clung to his head tightly, his fingernails embedded deep into the scalp, etching out streaks of blood, "Get out of my mind!! Don’t think about turning me into water too!!"

While Losa and Sanders were still trying to fight back with fighting energy, Moro’s mental defenses had completely shattered ahead of his physical ones.

Under the gaze of that pink brain tissue, he felt his soul being slowly liquefied.

Moro bit down fiercely on the tip of his tongue, spraying a mouthful of hot essence blood onto the deep-sea beast bone necklace at his chest.

As soon as the blood touched the bone, it emitted a slight "sizzle," as if it had fallen onto a red-hot iron plate.

"Bang!"

The beast bone exploded. The fragments paused for a moment in mid-air, then transformed into dozens of pale white ghostly shadowy spirits.

They lacked complete human form, faces twisted and elongated, mouths and noses hollow, trailing long, gray-white tails, emitting a piercing mental wail in the air.

"Wuu!!"

This was an impact powerful enough to tear through consciousness; an ordinary Extraordinary Knight wouldn’t even have a chance to scream under such an assault, their brains would turn directly to mush.

"Die! Just die—!!"

Moro screamed hysterically, blood streaming from his seven orifices, pouring all his remaining spiritual energy into this mutually destructive attack.

The vengeful ghosts surged like a tide towards Balk, who stood at the doorway.

Yet Balk stood there, without even raising a hand to defend, merely lifting his head slightly, opening his mouth to take a deep breath.

The next instant, a strange suction, as if from the depths of an ocean trench, emanated from deep within his mouth.

The screaming, sharp-crying spirits, once touching that suction, were like bubbles swept into a storm.

They struggled frantically, clawing at the air but could not even find a direction to escape, their bodies stretched into thin white smoke, dragged directly into Balk’s not-so-large mouth.

"Gulp." Like slurping noodles smoothly.

All the screams, curses, and mental impacts vanished completely the moment they entered his mouth.

Balk closed his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbed once, and in front of everyone, he burped contentedly.

The pink soft tissue exposed to the air on top of his head quivered gently with satisfaction, secreting a layer of transparent mucus.

"Not bad taste." He extended a scarlet tongue, licking the corner of his mouth, "Just a bit salty, old men’s souls are always too bitter."

The madness on Moro’s face froze, his brain felt like it had been struck with a heavy blow, rendering all thoughts into a void within a moment.

This was his strongest trump card, a definitive strike obtained by exhausting his life force.

Yet it became the opponent’s... appetizer?

And at that moment, Balk moved, covering the five or six meters between them in an instant.

A hand gently landed on top of Moro’s head.

"Bang!"

It wasn’t loud, but it was exceptionally crisp.

Moro’s head, filled with insane babble, burst like an overinflated balloon directly under the palm.

Fragments of bone, flesh, and white brain matter mixed together, forming an eerily semi-liquid state, splattering on the door panels and the floor.

The headless body swayed, like a puppet losing its strings, slipping down limply, blocking the only exit.

And just as Balk crushed Moro’s skull, Sanders and Losa moved in unison.

This was the perfect opportunity, no need for eye contact; those who lived this long on the man-eating sea knew when it was time to risk it all.

Sanders’ figure vanished first.

The ink green fighting energy blazed furiously around his body, compressing his whole form into an almost imperceptible fine line, a speed too fast for even retinal afterimages to form.

He skimmed over the blood-soaked floor, extending his hand holding a knife sharp enough to erode bones, aiming straight for Balk’s back.

Meanwhile, Losa stepped to the flank.

Pale blue fighting energy coiled around his rapier, like a layer of thin ice, targeting the most vulnerable bloodline at the neck’s side.