The Strongest War God

Chapter 1272: Despicable Method

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

If they were released, chaos would engulf the entire world!

What made it even more terrifying was the prospect of the bronze door swinging fully open.

Once the spirit beasts within the ruins spilled out into the world, it would plunge everything into turmoil.

People who had known nothing but the comfort of prosperous cities since birth had never even done the simplest tasks like slaughtering a chicken.

Most young women wouldn’t even dare to attempt it!

To expect them to handle spirit beasts?

A mere first-level spirit beast, even at the lower end of the spectrum, could potentially massacre tens of thousands in a single night.

Those of third-level or higher could effortlessly wipe out entire cities overnight!

A ninth-level spirit beast could lay waste to a small country without breaking a sweat.

Hence, the bronze door would remain firmly shut to them, no matter how prolonged the war became.

Not even Braydon Neal, for all his prowess, dared to contemplate opening it; such was the magnitude of the consequences.

Xetsa Yeza’s voice softened as he spoke, “You see, the fate of martial arts in our world is intricately linked to the bronze door. The resources for cultivation in our realm have long been exhausted by our forebears, leaving nothing for their descendants. Each successive generation has witnessed a decline in their abilities.”

“Is that so?” Braydon’s gaze turned icy. “Do you think I, who grew up amidst the chaos of battle, am ignorant of the savagery of war?”

Braydon knew all too well the horrors of war.

It was a relentless grinder of human lives, demanding an exorbitant toll from both sides.

Over the millennia of conflict, countless experts had met their end within those ruins.

Xetsa’s shoulders slumped in resignation.

“Indeed, a thousand years ago, an unprecedented cataclysmic war rent both realms asunder. The 45 Oracle Palaces were reduced to rubble, hundreds of imperial dynasties crumbled, and over a thousand royal dynasties vanished into the annals of history. Emperors fell like stars, and 87 Great Divine Priests perished in the conflict.

“One of them was the Great Divine Priest of our Oracle Palace, slain by the master of the Heavenly Mountain!”

Xetsa’s recounting of the ancient battle underscored the staggering cost both realms had paid, offering a chilling reminder of the former Sovereign Lord’s power.

Mastering the Spirit Summoning Monarch Art to its fullest extent was potent enough to slay even a Great Divine Priest.

Braydon remained composed, even more so than Xetsa.

Throughout history, the Spirit Summoning Monarch Art stood out as the paramount forbidden technique.

As a cultivator, Braydon couldn’t overlook the dread it instilled.

“A millennium ago, the outside world birthed many illustrious figures,” Xetsa spoke softly.

“It marked the peak of martial arts history. Among them, the master of the Heavenly Mountain held unrivaled reverence. The Spirit Summoning Monarch Art sent shockwaves through that era. It breached the ruins, slaying emperors and casting their blood across the skies. Its authority silenced 3,000 Divine Emptiness Realm experts for a millennium, none daring to defy its decree.”

…

Xetsa revealed the issuer of the imperial decree that bound the Oracle Palace: the former Sovereign Lord of the Heavenly Mountain.

Mount Kylo and the remnants of Heavenly Mountain, both intertwined with Braydon’s past, bore testament to the influential figures that shaped his growth.

“In two years, the millennium-long imperial decree binding the Divine Emptiness Realm will expire,” Xetsa continued softly. “At that juncture, the imperial decree’s deterrent force will vanish. I’m sure you can imagine what consequences it will unleash.”

“Thus, the war that erupted a millennium ago repeats today,” Braydon’s gaze turned icy.

The Xetsa before him wasn’t a friend but a foe—an emperor adversary.

Today they had camaraderie, but their future dictated enmity.

“A millennium ago, the master of the Heavenly Mountain held sway in the outside realm. Now, a thousand years have passed, the martial arts in the outside world are extremely weak, and there is no longer any intention of resisting,” Xetsa remarked softly. “Rumor has it that the Second Oracle Palace has uncovered a clandestine means to breach the bronze door. This time, no force can hinder the gods’ descent upon the outside world.”

Braydon’s countenance remained serene, masking the turmoil within.

The news he bore didn’t ruffle his exterior, yet he knew a conflict poised to engulf countless martial artists loomed within two years.

“As a descendant of the Divine Lord,” Xetsa’s tone gentled, “you ought to align with the Oracle Palace.”

“I hail from Hansworth, a lineage traced back to Hanya. The blood of the Hanya people courses through my veins,” Braydon stated firmly, meeting Xetsa’s gaze with unwavering resolve. “And now you ask me to betray my nation, my people, and stand alongside you? You’re simply dreaming.”

The Northern King’s stance remained resolute, unwavering in the face of the undeniable might of the Oracle Palace, which often left others in despair.

Yet, for Braydon, it mattered not.

For Hansworth men, to stand tall in defiance was preferable to a life spent in submission.

Xetsa fell silent for a prolonged moment, her gaze clear as she regarded Braydon.

“Regardless of your decision, the Oracle Palace will shelter you, for the blood of the Divine Lord’s descendant runs in your veins.”

“But it’s the blood of the Neal family that flows through me,” Braydon retorted, puzzled by their insistence on his supposed lineage as the Divine Lord’s descendant.

He couldn’t fathom why the God Slaying Bow, an artifact of the Divine Lord, had chosen him as its wielder.

However, his lineage as a scion of the Neal family in Preston was an irrefutable truth.

His father was Louis Neal, the eldest son of the second generation of the Neal family in Preston.

With their conversation concluded, Xetsa departed, heading to another palace instead of her own.

At the palace’s helm, Rayha Qhobela inquired calmly, “What did he say?”

“He was raised in the outside world, born in Hansworth. His mentors and influences hail from prominent circles within Hansworth. His convictions, instilled since childhood, cannot be swayed easily,” Xetsa reported, conveying Braydon’s stance to Rayha.

Rayha furrowed his brow.

“He is the Divine Lord’s descendant. In two years, the war will commence. He should lead our return to the outside world, revitalizing the martial arts civilization and allowing martial arts banished immortals to reign supreme.”

“I’m afraid it will be difficult.”

Xetsa knew the task ahead would be arduous.

Having spent time with Braydon, she understood the formidable challenge of altering his steadfast resolve.

To persuade Braydon to embrace his purported identity as the Divine Lord’s descendant would be akin to reaching the heavens themselves.

“He does have a vulnerability,” Rayha murmured.

“Great Divine Priest, if we go through with this…” Xetsa’s shock was palpable.

Indeed, Braydon harbored a weakness, one that loomed large until this very day.

His most glaring vulnerability lay in the Neal family of Preston, particularly the presence of Braydon’s parents, wife, and children—Heather Sage and the twins.

They constituted Braydon’s Achilles’ heel.

The so-called Oracle Palace, with its self-proclaimed divinity, was comprised of mere mortals, albeit martial artists.

While humanity coursed through their veins, it often mingled with darker, more sinister inclinations.

“Summon the outside world to bring his wife and children to the Oracle Palace,” Rayha instructed calmly.

“Understood,” Xetsa replied, knowing she had no authority to challenge the Great Divine Priest’s decree.

However, within the palace, a man garbed in green robes frowned deeply, voicing his concern, “Rayha, isn’t this rather underhanded? The lad’s background isn’t ordinary. He not only hails as the young master of Kylo but also holds sway as the heir of Mount Sino and the Heavenly Mountain.”