The Strongest War God

Chapter 1277: Mental Prison

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

The sight struck fear into the hearts of the descendants of the gods in the Hall of Edicts.

“Traitor! Traitor! He’s murdering people! He’s planning to betray the Oracle Palace!”

Throughout the annals of Oracle Palace history, there had been instances of indiscriminate slaughter.

Without exception, it was always perpetrated by those who had turned against the Oracle Palace.

And now, history seemed to be repeating itself.

The Northern King, armed with a sword, assumed the role of executioner, defying the heavens themselves.

In mere moments, Braydon Neal unleashed his frenzy, initiating a massacre that claimed the lives of over 370 descendants of the gods within the Hall of Edicts, leaving the rest injured and shaken.

“Braydon, what madness has possessed you?” came the voice of Gatimu Masilela, ranked tenth on the Divine Ranking.

Standing at seven feet tall, adorned in a white robe embroidered with a flying fish, he had a handsome figure.

Having cultivated for 56 years, Gatimu had ascended to the Divine Spirit Realm just the previous year, earning renown throughout Donta Imperial City by slaying a vitality emperor.

With his placement on the Divine Ranking, his future as a Divine Priest seemed assured.

He held the potential to wield considerable influence within the Oracle Palace, perhaps even ascending to the position of a dynasty lord.

Unfortunately, fate had intervened, forcing his presence on this fateful day.

While Braydon bore no personal grudge against him, they found themselves as adversaries, aligned with opposing factions and serving different masters.

In such enmity, only one could emerge victorious.

As Braydon’s pristine white attire became stained with blood in his frenzied combat, the ground beneath him littered with hundreds of corpses, Gatimu’s anger boiled over.

“Is this madness a result of Qi deviation? You’ve truly lost your mind!”

With a swift motion, Gatimu unleashed his most potent battle techniques, for any martial artist aspiring to be an emperor had to traverse the path of the imperial path.

The golden spiritual path seemed to manifest itself, a tangible force at play.

The imperial path, shaped by mental power, could materialize or dissipate with but a thought.

Above Gatimu’s head loomed the imperial path, stretching a hundred meters in length and a meter in width—a testament to his attainment of the first level of the warlock emperor realm.

Braydon cast his gaze skyward, marveling at the swiftness of it all.

Activating the instant technique, he covered 4,000 meters in a single breath, soaring effortlessly into the heavens.

Clad in blood-red attire that fluttered in the wind, he closed his eyes, runes materializing upon his form.

Entering the enlightenment realm with ease, Braydon’s talent surpassed that of countless peers.

His physique, markedly distinct from the norm, showcased a prowess that few could match.

As Braydon delved into the enlightenment realm once more, his black hair swayed in the breeze, his presence seemingly merging with the world around him.

With sword in hand, he engaged in battle, his every movement imbued with the power of heaven and earth.

With each swing of the Northern King Sword, the power of heaven and earth surged forth, cleaving through the imperial path.

“Pfft!” Gatimu expelled a mouthful of blood, his visage aged beyond his years.

Braydon’s blade had severed the spiritual path looming above him, disrupting the very foundation of his imperial path.

The sword, composed of nine layers, carried with it immense power, shattering the very essence of Gatimu’s aspirations.

The second slash found its mark on Gatimu’s body.

With his realm severed, what defense could he muster against such an onslaught?

Gazing up at the Heavenly Sword, Gatimu’s form dissolved into a crimson mist—a grim reminder that with the body’s demise, so too vanished the path, leaving behind no complete corpse.

Thus fell the prodigious talent of the Oracle Palace, a future Divine Priest whose potential now lay unfulfilled within the Hall of Edicts.

His demise was not on some distant battlefield but within the very confines of the Oracle Palace itself.

Braydon had claimed another victim.

Chaos erupted within the Hall of Edicts, home to ninety-two teacher-level emperors.

Ninety-two gods, three of whom were Divine Priests.

All were alarmed by the scenes unfolding beyond their walls, the outside world resembling a purgatory of bloodshed.

Among them stood Jitu Masilela, one of the Oracle Palace’s top ten Divine Priests, who bellowed in rage, “Braydon Neal, what madness is this?!”

Gatimu, fallen in battle, was his own descendant, the one he had groomed to succeed as a Divine Priest in the future.

Yet, here he lay slain in combat.

As Braydon closed his eyes, seemingly lost in a state of enlightenment, the aura of path enveloping him, it remained uncertain whether he was truly present or adrift in a haze.

But one thing was clear—he had to be stopped, lest he unleash further carnage upon the Hall of Edicts.

“Save for the teachers of each department,” Jitu rasped hoarsely, “all others must vacate the Hall of Edicts. Swiftly inform the Great Divine Priest of the Young Divine Lord’s descent into madness.”

Such words were all the Divine Priests could utter regarding Braydon’s actions.

There was no way the Oracle Palace would admit that another traitor had emerged and slaughtered the Hall of Edicts.

Yet, Braydon’s rampage showed no sign of abating after Gatimu’s demise.

The slaughter raged on unabated!

More than half of the 700 students of the Hall of Edicts had already fallen victim to Braydon’s relentless onslaught, their lives snuffed out one after another.

The descendants of the gods met their demise in rapid succession, including the brilliant Gatimu, felled in battle.

Jitu, in collaboration with the two Divine Priests, unleashed their combined mental power in a bid to ensnare Braydon within a mental prison and halt his massacre.

These three Divine Priests, revered for their enigmatic, fearless image, commanded admiration.

They unleashed a formidable mental pressure, showcasing their unquestionable strength—each a ninth-level emperor realm practitioner, at the peak of the warlock emperor realm.

Their display of mental power was nothing short of terrifying, bolstered further by the manifestation of their imperial paths.

The imperial path, spanning nine hundred meters in length and nine meters in width, exerted a suppressive force that reached into the heavens.

Together, they formed a circular cage with their interwoven mental powers, erecting a golden prison standing seven meters tall.

Originally constructed from invisible mental power, it materialized into an indestructible barrier, ensnaring Braydon within its confines.

As Braydon closed his eyes tightly, his body adorned with runes, a momentary silence descended upon the chaos.

The three Divine Priests breathed a collective sigh of relief, their efforts seemingly successful in quelling the threat posed by Braydon.

Meanwhile, the shocked students of the Hall of Edicts observed from a distance, their horror palpable as they witnessed the unfolding spectacle.

Today’s events would undoubtedly be etched into the annals of Oracle Palace history.

It would recount how Braydon, descendant of the Divine Lord, had descended into madness during his cultivation, culminating in the slaughter of the entire Hall of Edicts and the deaths of hundreds of descendants of gods in a single cataclysmic battle.

Such would be Braydon’s legacy.

As a collective sigh of relief swept through the Oracle Palace, the sky above underwent a drastic transformation.

Dark clouds amassed from all directions, layer upon layer, shrouding the palace in an impenetrable gloom that blocked out the sunlight.

“Who dares to employ the thunder technique?” demanded one of the enraged Divine Priests.

“Kalei Kgoma, is this your doing?” Divine Priest Jitu’s voice thundered.

Yet, standing proudly atop the Hall of Edicts was Kalei, the second-ranked individual on the Divine Ranking.

Frowning, he denied responsibility.

“It’s not me—it’s him!” he declared, gesturing toward Braydon below.

Frustration etched across his features, Jitu gazed at Braydon confined within the cell.

“Damn it! The mental prison seals away all psychic energy. How could he possibly unleash martial arts techniques?”

Trapped within the confines of the mental prison, its occupants found themselves unable to wield their mental power in the outside world.