The twilight had not yet fully dispersed, and the Rift Hill north of Mai Lang Territory was shrouded in a faint layer of mist.

The split hills looked like a giant beast had taken a bite out of the land, leaving behind a cruel and grim scar.

Louis looked up, noticing that the vegetation on the surface of the hills had completely withered. The soil was permeated with a rusty-smelling moisture, and an occasional low, hollow sound emanated from the underground.

Louis gazed at a rock cave, frowning slightly: "This is it. There's some magic fluctuation here."

"...Magic fluctuation?" Lambert frowned.

"Perhaps, but I'm not certain." Louis raised his hand, signaling caution.

Although he said that, he already knew what was inside—Spectral Moss and Soul-devouring Lizard Beasts.

"The terrain is narrow, we can only take twenty people inside. Any more... and turning around would be difficult," Lambert said in a low voice.

His eyes were sharp, staring at the dark entrance of the slope, his combat instincts quietly activating.

"Alright." Louis nodded, "Pick the people, the elite among the elite. The others will stay on the perimeter, ready to seal the cave entrance if necessary."

"Yes."

Soon, over twenty High-tier Knights clad in light armor lined up, equipped with special gear besides their standard weapons.

Before setting off, Louis gave a final order: "Everyone wear the 'mask-type Frost Leaf Vine purifier,' and activate the slow-release mist pouch three minutes after entering."

Upon hearing this, everyone took out the transparent masks with silver frames from their backpacks.

These were experimental gear developed by the Red Tide research workshop, initially created to resist the Nest's mental attacks.

They contained a light blue viscous potion refined from Frost Leaf Vine, which could quickly release into a mist screen when subjected to mental interference, isolating spore and hallucination gas pollutants.

"Remember, if you experience dizziness, tinnitus, or memory displacement, immediately increase the mist concentration, do not delay," Louis commanded.

"Yes!"

"Check for seal integrity." Lambert habitually surveyed the group, confirming that everyone was equipped before leading them into the dark depths.

Following closely were Louis and five personal guards, while others entered the cavern depths in pairs.

They hadn't taken more than a few steps into the cavern when they felt an indescribable pressure.

It wasn't a drop in temperature or thin air, but a subtle feeling of being watched.

As if someone was crouched behind the cave walls, observing them.

The further they descended, the colder it became, and the air grew more humid.

Strange phosphorescent patterns began to appear on the rock walls, like magical tendrils formed from magic power accumulated over the years.

The air was filled with an indescribable smell—a mix of rusty metal, decaying rot, and a faint, blood-like sweetness.

"This place... feels wrong," murmured a Weir.

Carefully, they descended the slope, their feet treading on slippery rocks and fractured bones, origin unknown.

Finally, about ten or so meters underground, the tunnel abruptly widened, and the sight before them left everyone stunned.

An underground circular hall more than twenty meters wide, with a collapsed dome, while the walls still retained incomplete carvings and ritual patterns.

Leaning among the broken stone pillars were several dried-up corpses, some clad in tattered gray robes, others clutching rusted, crumbling blades.

What was even more terrifying was the spread of black-purple moss over the walls and corpses.

The Spectral Moss moved slowly, with a faint phosphorescence flowing across its surface, spreading like a tide.

The air temperature suddenly dropped, and a thin layer of white frost appeared on the outer layer of the Frost Leaf Vine purifiers.

"...It's not a natural cave," Louis said slowly, his eyes sharp.

"It's a tomb. A kind of... highly ritualistic ancient tomb."

Louis stepped forward, squatting beside a corpse, gently brushing away the moss to reveal incomplete engravings on the ribcage—a snowflake-like cross pattern, with a horizontal crack in the center.

"It's... the ancient emblem of the Snow Swearer," Louis speculated, "Apparently the ancient tomb of a Snow Country priest and his burial guards from centuries ago, only infested with Spectral Moss over time."

A young knight nearby was astonished, "Wasn't that all destroyed thirty years ago?"

"Maybe not all of it, like this place... It's never been on any map or historical record."

While they hesitated in disbelief, the Spectral Moss at their feet silently undulated.

Initially hidden among the walls, corpses, and rock crevices, they were inconspicuous.

But now, under a subtle flow of air, the purple glow edged a bit closer to the group, like a damp carpet slowly unfurling.

No sound, no scent, but if someone were to remove their mask now, they would immediately sense a marrow-penetrating fear, originating from the death memories of others, emanating from the moss.

These were the priest's fear, the soldiers' despair, the cursed ones' lament... forming a sensory attack.

However, the knights, wearing the Frost Leaf Vine purifiers, had already silently isolated the fear spores outside their masks.

Under Louis's protection, they unknowingly avoided preliminary spiritual contamination.

"...Tsk." Louis crouched beside the Spectral Moss, gazing intently at the cluster of ink-purple moss.

"It's no longer the Snow Country priest's tomb," he laughed, "Now, it's a precious asset of the Red Tide!"

Louis's voice was not loud, yet it echoed clearly through the cavern, carrying a sense of excitement and joy.

Only then did everyone realize the oddity of the situation, turning their gaze to their Lord.

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