The Strongest War God - Chapter 1354 - Chapter 1354: Heading to Kylo
Chapter 1354: Heading to Kylo
Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation
The soldiers of the Northern Army pledged their allegiance to Braydon Neal, even unto death in foreign lands.
It was only right that their families be cared for by the Northern Army.
And resources were not lacking within the Northern Army!
The tiger of the Northern Army stood tall amidst the 16th ruin, commanding authority with its sword pointed outward.
The expansive territory of the 16th ruin now fell under the Northern Army’s jurisdiction.
The riches within, once brought to the outside world, would undoubtedly fetch a high price from countries far and wide.
Many of these resources were considered invaluable in other lands.
Moreover, even the lowest-grade spirit stones on South Pole Island commanded a hefty price—1,400 dollars for a mere small stone.
Though seemingly expensive, these stones were the lifeblood of warriors upon their return to the city, exchanged for currency to cover their expenses.
Currently, the Northern Army warehouses were overflowing with trillions of spirit stones—a wealth that even the capital couldn’t match.
Dominic Lowe occasionally requested spirit stones from Luther Carden and others, but with Braydon’s return, external concerns held little weight.
The Northern Army had fulfilled its obligations.
“Luke, let’s return home,” Braydon said to Luke Yates.
“Okay,” Luke agreed, feeling the pull of home after ten months away.
For those who had fallen in battle, their final wish was to rest beneath the slopes of Mount Bliz.
Braydon and his companions were preparing to depart.
“Greetings, Leader!” The multitude of elderly men bowed respectfully.
Braydon, now holding the Great Hansworth Seal, had become the new leader of Hansworth.
These elderly figures were all from Hansworth.
Braydon offered a slight nod but remained silent.
He had little to add to the moment.
As Braydon moved to leave, many of the elders wished to stop him, but they hesitated.
It was apparent that they couldn’t find the words.
Having emerged from the 16th ruin and vanquished over 30 divines single-handedly, Braydon had demonstrated his ability to subdue even the most formidable ruins.
This elevated him to the status of the world’s foremost expert.
Recognizing Braydon’s potential to lead the charge against the ruins, the elders turned to Graham Neal, hoping he might persuade his grandson.
“Braydon!” Graham called after him, but Braydon continued on his path.
“Grandpa, there are some things you needn’t say,” Braydon responded firmly.
Stepping onto the sea’s surface, Braydon paused and turned back to address his grandfather calmly.
“In the past, hundreds of nations crossed our borders, staining the Northern Army with the blood of our people. The debt remains unsettled. If they expect me to align with them, I’m sorry, Grandpa. I cannot.”
Braydon’s demeanor remained composed, his resolve unshaken.
He saw through the intentions of those on South Pole Island, but it mattered little to him.
Braydon felt no obligation toward them!
In the past, when those individuals and soldiers encroached upon the northern desert, who could have predicted this outcome?
How much blood had these former adversaries spilled?
The vendetta of their forebears must persist!
Braydon wasn’t a saint, nor did he strive to be virtuous.
Regardless of the number of lives lost in the hundred countries, it held no relevance to him, the Northern King.
Graham let out a faint sigh as he watched his grandson depart.
Before leaving, Braydon left behind a statement. “From this day forth, Hansworth is off-limits. Those who aren’t disciples of Hansworth and trespass into this forbidden territory will face swift and merciless execution!”
His composed words echoed like thunder, reverberating through the air.
Braydon ordered the gates to be sealed shut.
Martial artists from the hundred countries were barred from entering Hansworth, including those from various ruins.
Should any of them dare to set foot on Hansworth soil, Braydon vowed to eliminate them all.
As the Northern King, his authority resounded across the globe.
Who would dare disregard his decree?
Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, Braydon strode across the waves of the boundless ocean.
He advanced alone, his steps firm.
Moments later, Braydon vanished with a flash, teleporting away.
After several teleportations, he departed from the ocean and returned to the mainland.
Arriving at Preston, he was met with the bustling streets and bustling traffic.
Ordinary folks remained unaware of the ruins.
Within the Neal family mansion, the autumn breeze rustled through the fallen leaves, casting an air of desolation upon the entire grounds.
It had been ten months since anyone had tended to its upkeep.
The residents of the manor had scattered, with Louis Neal and Liam Neal engrossed in their duties as elders of the Fifth Divine Palace.
Laura Quinn, Qahira Sage and Heather Sage had been frozen and dispatched to Mount Kylo, leaving the vast estate eerily vacant.
Braydon’s gaze remained placid as he wandered through the halls of his birthplace.
Among the overgrown grass, a long-forgotten rattle-drum lay obscured beneath the leaves, already succumbing to decay.
Bending down, Braydon retrieved it gently and gave it a slight shake, eliciting a dull sound that echoed with memories of his childhood.
Lost in reverie, Braydon was abruptly jolted by a surge of killing intent from behind. Without turning around, he addressed the presence.
“Hayden Neal.”
The eldest son of Larry Neal, once a celebrated prodigy in Preston and the heir to the Neal family legacy, Hayden had vanished from the scene long before Braydon’s return to Preston.
Braydon had offered him an escape route upon his return for vengeance, yet he had not anticipated Hayden’s reappearance after years of absence.
“Braydon Neal!”
Hayden’s fists clenched as he regarded Braydon, who stood a hundred meters away.
A sense of foreboding gripped his heart.
In just a few short years, Hayden had likely familiarized himself with all the legends surrounding Braydon.
No one in the world could subdue King Braydon, much less Hayden.
Braydon remarked calmly, his gaze steady as he regarded Hayden, “The matters of the older generation should stay with them. We move forward step by step. You and I are merely swept along in the scheme.”
“You took my father’s life!” Hayden’s eyes blazed with fury, his aura resonating with the might of a king-level martial artist.
It was a formidable strength, yet in the presence of Braydon, it paled to insignificance.
Braydon fixed him with a piercing stare.
“If vengeance is what you seek, you may challenge me at any time. But as it stands, you lack the strength to confront me.”
“I’ll surpass you and take your life!” Hayden’s voice quivered with determination, his teeth clenched in defiance.
Braydon’s smile in response to the threat was serene.
The unforgiving nature of the Northern Army people typically left no room for fostering enemies, yet Hayden stood as an exception.
After a brief pause, Braydon decided to journey to Kylo to retrieve Heather and the children.
With his newfound strength, he felt capable of safeguarding them from harm.
Braydon’s prowess on the battlefield could rival that of an extreme divine, rendering him capable of vanquishing any foe.
With this fearlessness, he was well-equipped to shield his family from danger.
In the distant Mount Kylo, the peaks remained cloaked in perpetual snow, as if frozen in time for eons.
Yet, Mount Kylo was now blanketed in an oppressive aura, a phenomenon persisting for seven long years.
Within the Kylo Celestial Palace, an ancient and solemn hall housed nine seats of importance.
Seated at the head was the current Master of Kylo, the very teacher who imparted the Great Void of Kylo Art to Braydon.
Alongside him sat Old Crane, the Inner Mansion Master, the Outer Mansion Master, and the Kylo Sky Master, forming a gathering of Kylo’s most eminent figures.
“I’ve just received word that Braydon emerged from the 16th ruin, single-handedly making his way through the ruins,” announced the Master of Kylo, his countenance stern, his voice resolute despite showing signs of aging.
“The Young Master’s progress is remarkable, indeed,” remarked a middle-aged man clad in purple, his astonishment palpable.
