The Strongest War God

Chapter 1280: The Three Giants

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

“You’re not the only one who’s been awakened!”

In the distant heavens, thousands of green lotuses suddenly materialized.

They took root in the sky, multiplying in an instant.

From afar, a green-robed man approached.

With jet-black hair tied back with a green cloth, he strode forward.

“Green Lotus God, Kingsley Jansky!” cried the green-robed man in horror as he recognized the figure.

“My successor has summoned me. What’s the matter?” echoed a faint voice—the third individual called forth by the Spirit Summoning Monarch Art.

He was the former Sovereign Lord of Heavenly Mountain, the Seventh Sovereign Lord.

Alone, he had quelled 3,000 ruins, razed dozens of Oracle Palaces, and vanquished many Great Divine Priests.

The banished immortal employed the Spirit Summoning Monarch Art, surpassing all expectations and showcasing the terror of this ancient technique.

The banished immortal teetered on the brink of collapse, 90% of his spirituality drained.

His form blurred, on the verge of dissipating into a white mist.

Despite this, his determination to end Rayha Qhobela remained unwavering.

Jordan Neal, the First Divine Lord, surveyed the scene with deliberate slowness.

Descending from the heavens, he scrutinized the banished immortal.

“It appears my descendant’s battle has roused me, nearly extinguishing the banished immortal. Something significant must be afoot,” he remarked.

As he spoke, a radiant glow enveloped Jordan, transforming into a formidable figure—the perfected form of a martial arts banished immortal.

The appearance of true martial arts banished immortal instantly subdued the Donta Imperial City.

Martial arts practitioners found themselves inexplicably suppressed, unable to wield their spells.

Jordan, the warlock martial artist, extended his finger and directed it toward the banished immortal’s fading form.

An imperceptible force steadied the banished immortal’s figure, but there was no way to reclaim the lost spirituality.

With a gesture, Jordan guided the banished immortal’s form into Braydon Neal’s body.

“My descendant,” he murmured faintly.

“He carries the essence of my bloodline within him.”

As Kingsley descended and beheld Braydon, both eminent figures frowned in contemplation.

They shared a mutual understanding—it must be the descendant of the family’s union through a marriage alliance.

Offspring born from such a union would inherit their bloodline talents.

“Braydon Neal pays respects to his esteemed ancestors,” Braydon said, acknowledging his lineage despite his own achievements.

How could the descendants not respect their ancestors?

Jordan gentle inquired, “Why hasn’t the divine blood within you recovered yet?”

Braydon harbored two distinct bloodlines within him—the lineage of the Neal family and that of the Jansky family.

While the Jansky bloodline had been awakened twice during the bloodline recovery at Lenver Pond, the Neal family bloodline remained dormant.

Kingsley remarked softly. “To think such a remarkable prodigy has been born from the union of our families. His future accomplishments are bound to surpass ours.”

“Our descendant harbors many secrets,” Jordan asserted, extracting an item forcefully from Braydon’s pouch—the black stone.

“The Human Emperor Seal?” Kingsley’s gaze sharpened.

“Indeed, it is. Following the fall of the Sattle Dynasty, the dynasty ceased to exist. It was believed this relic was lost or destroyed. I never anticipated it would resurface in my descendant’s possession.”

Jordan toyed with the small stone, while Braydon finally grasped the small stone’s true identity—it was not merely a relic of the Hansworth lineage but the fabled Human Emperor Seal from ancient times.

It was once hailed as a supreme spirit artifact by the ancient human emperors, but now it seemed to have fallen into disrepair.

The two rejuvenated figures exchanged words briefly.

“We have limited time to address this,” Kingsley remarked calmly. “Let’s resolve the turmoil surrounding us.”

“Trouble approaches,” Jordan observed, his gaze fixed in the distance as if he could sense the Seventh Sovereign Lord of Heavenly Mountain—an entity of immense stature.

They were all formidable figures

“First Divine Lord Jordan Neal, Green Lotus God Kingsley Jansky!”

A gentle breeze swept by as the Seventh Sovereign Lord of Heavenly Mountain materialized.

To everyone’s surprise, she was a woman. Clad in a pristine white dress reminiscent of snow, her complexion as smooth as ice, her exquisite features veiled, she gazed upon Braydon with a hint of tenderness.

By seniority, Braydon ought to address her as Grandmaster.

Unfazed by her presence, Braydon greeted her softly, “I am Braydon Neal, the Ninth Young Master of Heavenly Mountain. I offer my respects, Grandmaster.”

“Who dared to torment you?” the Seventh Sovereign Lord inquired, her lips parting slightly.

“The Oracle Palace has confined me here,” Braydon confessed softly. “They seek to harm my children. I had no recourse but to summon the three ancestors with the banished immortal.”

“The Oracle Palace wants to harm my descendant?” Jordan’s eyes blazed with fury.

“The Oracle Palace has truly raised some loyal dogs,” Kingsley remarked icily. “Today, we shall wipe out this sect.”

Jordan turned to face Rayha, a member of the Qhobela family.

Though the Qhobela family had historical ties with Jordan and Kingsley, those bonds belonged to the past.

“Rayha Qhobela greets…” Rayha’s tone was rigid as she began.

Before she could finish, a sudden swoosh interrupted her.

At that moment, Jordan wasn’t the only one launching an attack.

The Seventh Sovereign Lord of Heavenly Mountain also joined the fray.

Her imperial decree had once subdued 3,000 ruins for a millennium.

She had single-handedly swept through those ruins, displaying absolute ruthlessness.

If such a figure were to awaken and discover that her successor was imprisoned within the Oracle Palace, fury would undoubtedly ensue.

Today, Braydon bore witness to the terrifying might of the Spirit Summoning Monarch Art as the Seventh Sovereign Lord unleashed her power.

The sky above the 16th ruin was torn asunder, as if the spatial barriers had been breached.

The stars beyond the dome stirred from their slumber, and 3,000 stars illuminated the sky above the South Pole Island.

This spectacle sent shivers down the spines of countless martial artists, bewildered by the unprecedented occurrence.

The descent of 3,000 stars brought with it a power surpassing that of heaven and earth, suppressing both mental power and vitality.

Standing amidst this celestial display, the Seventh Sovereign Lord exuded an aura of cold nobility, resembling an ancient empress commanding her domain.

Kingsley’s gaze brimmed with battle intent.

“Once, I vanquished the Fourth Sovereign Lord of Heavenly Mountain with a single strike. I never imagined the current generation would prove as formidable.”

“Seeking redemption, are we?” Jordan remarked lightly, a flicker of battle spirit kindling in his eyes as well.

In ancient times, Heavenly Mountain stood as a monumental bastion, drawing countless aspiring talents eager to challenge its indomitable stature.

The past Sovereign Lords of Heavenly Mountain loomed as legends of invincibility, their dominance shaping an era.

In this moment, the Seventh Sovereign Lord perceived the fighting spirit emanating from these two figures.

The Seventh Sovereign Lord, Jordan and Kinglsey didn’t care about Rayha.

Both Jordan and Kingsley were both divine realm martial artists, but their significance transcended mere rankings.

They were the progenitors of the divine realm, towering figures who shaped the martial landscape long before Rayha treaded upon their path.

In comparison, Rayha appeared as a latecomer to their legacy, a mere aspirant who paled in comparison to the stature of those who had forged the divine realm—an achievement beyond the reach of Rayha.