The Strongest War God

If given the opportunity in the future, Braydon Neal envisioned himself as the solitary guardian of the Spirit Sea, marshaling the might of the Northern Army to safeguard its shores.

He dreamed of seeing every soldier of the Northern Army ascend to the divine realm, granting them longevity to protect Hansworth for centuries to come.

In the present moment, the green lotus was voraciously absorbing primordial chaos Qi at a rate faster than Braydon could observe.

As for the Northern King Sword, a weapon steeped in the blood of countless battles, Braydon carefully guided it into the blossoming green lotus.

Upon contact with the primordial chaos Qi, the sword disintegrated into powder, save for a few lingering specks of starlight—the essence of the sword’s core and the catalyst for its rebirth.

Seven glimmering specks floated into the depths of the green lotus, which closed upon them, nurturing something within—an innate Primordial Chaos Sword, born from the essence of Braydon himself and cultivated within the green lotus.

If this sword could be nurtured to fruition, its potential would be boundless, an extension of Braydon’s own essence.

Their fates intertwined, they would rise or fall together.

As the night waned, the primordial chaos Qi was entirely assimilated, and the green lotus fell into a profound silence, as if awaiting the auspicious moment for the birth of its creation.

Braydon, with determination in his heart, raised his left hand and guided the green lotus toward the core of the Yin-Yang Five Elements Diagram.

Within the vast expanse of the 10,000-meter realm lay a core artifact—the heart of the supreme treasure.

The green lotus, firmly anchored within the Yin-Yang Diagram, swayed gently in the breeze.

It possessed the ability to draw upon the energies of the Yin-Yang Five Elements Diagram and absorb the power emanating from the heart.

As Braydon observed the surroundings, his attention was drawn to the 36 ice palaces, each with its doors tightly shut.

The one before him was no exception.

Stepping forward with hands clasped behind his back, he prepared to push open the towering hundred-meter door.

“Are you the designated heir, No.78411, seeking entry into the Ice Palace?” The stone statues flanking the hall suddenly came to life, their voices deep and ancient.

“Hmm?” Braydon’s senses tingled with a hint of suspicion.

Had there been this many visitors before?

It seemed unlikely.

Despite the Hall of Souls’ existence for millennia, few had gathered sufficient Frost Grass to summon the Ice Palace.

Moreover, most could only summon the Heart of Frost; a heart that none could subdue.

In the annals of history, only a handful had managed to summon the Ice Palace.

Braydon’s summoning of 36 palaces in one fell swoop marked a historic first.

Two stone statues obstructed his path.

“I intend to enter,” Braydon responded resolutely.

Boom!

After countless years of dormancy, the ice palace finally yielded.

Its doors swung open, and a brilliant beam of light illuminated Braydon, who had just ascended the steps.

“Enter, and you shall have one hundred years.”

As soon as the stone statue finished speaking, it reverted to its original state, indifferent to what ensued next.

Facing the luminous beam, Braydon calmly entered the hall.

Upon stepping inside, darkness enveloped him.

It felt as though he had been plunged into an endless void, devoid of any sensation.

This peculiar sensation caused Braydon to furrow his brow, prompting him to activate his dual-pupils technique.

As soon as his dual-pupils opened, a dazzling light flooded his vision.

An elderly voice, tinged with affection and surprise, rang out, “Oh, the dual-pupils are observing. The little one from the First Lineage. Let’s see how many pupils you have… What the hell?”

The old man’s words darkened Braydon’s expression.

Who were these individuals within the hall?

An elderly figure, clad in white robes with a mane of white hair and a beard, had already approached Braydon.

The two locked gazes—youthful vigor meeting aged wisdom.

The old man’s hand, which had been stroking his beard, trembled slightly.

“Who are you?” Braydon inquired, his frown deepening.

“Who are you?” the old man countered before pausing to scrutinize Braydon. “Wait, let me check. Are you from Hall of Souls No.788, the exiled family member of the First Lineage?”

Across the cosmos, the human race had established cultivation grounds throughout the universe.

Among these grounds, those who had committed grave transgressions were banished to fend for themselves or perpetuate their lineage—a group known as sinners.

Their descendants bore the stigma of their forebears’ sins.

The old man mumbled, “A descendant of the First Lineage, with the blood of sin coursing through his veins, has actually given birth to ten pupils. That’s First Lineage potential. We must report this to the chief!”

In the vast expanse of the cosmos, there were eight human lineages, with the first lineage being renowned as the premier lineage.

The lineage masters were referred to as chiefs.

Having already acknowledged Braydon’s dual-pupils, the old man spoke with a grave expression.

“I am the guardian of the Ice Palace,” he declared. “Within its walls lie a plethora of treasures—books containing formidable secret arts and formidable cultivation techniques. My duty is to safeguard this repository.”

Braydon offered no response and turned to depart.

“Hey, hey, hold on!” the hall master called out, taken aback. “Don’t leave!”

“Not interested,” Braydon replied curtly, showing little inclination toward exploring more secret arts.

He believed he had already gleaned enough knowledge.

The martial arts banished immortal managed 30,000 techniques across the world.

It was swamped with responsibilities, a testament to the arduous task of mastering myriad techniques.

“What’s your name?” the hall master hastily inquired.

“Braydon Neal,” he replied, halting in his tracks.

As soon as his name escaped his lips, the entire ice palace quaked, as if a formidable presence had descended upon it.

“Lord Lauritz?” The hall master suddenly sensed a familiar aura.

With a swoosh, a devilish young man clad in crimson robes, adorned with fiery red hair and a flame insignia upon his forehead, materialized within the hall.

The ice palace wasn’t situated within the Hall of Souls, nor was it contained within the small world nested within the Hall of Souls.

It occupied a unique position.

Braydon, having traversed the Spirit Sea, entered the small world through the Hall of Souls, subsequently gaining access to the ice palace.

The palace appeared to reside within a small world, but in reality, it existed within the vast universe.

This was evident from the sudden descent of Lauritz’s true form.

Judging by the number of individuals entering the hall, it was apparent that besides those from the frost world, there were likely others who had gained access through the ice palace’s door.

These newcomers hailed not from the Spirit Sea, but from the cosmos.

Understanding the situation instantly, Braydon realized the significance of Lauritz’s true manifestation.

With his pressure lifted and a smile adorning his face, he seemed approachable, a stark contrast to his reputation for ruthless battle prowess on the battlefield.

The hall master, wide-eyed, refrained from further inquiry.

“Glad to see you again, Braydon!” Lauritz spoke gently.

“Don’t you require four years to arrive here?” Braydon queried, his brow furrowing.

Lauritz chuckled.

“That was merely a fragment of my consciousness, attached to the headquarters’ command token, accompanying Bilal Yarbro. The one standing before you now is my true self!

“The 36 ice palaces serve as teleportation portals,” he continued, offering Braydon a generous gift. “Should you be interested, I’m inclined to grant you ownership of all 36 palaces!”

This sudden gesture stunned the old man, who anxiously interjected, “Lord Lauritz, constructing the ice palace is an arduous and costly endeavor. You know this well. If you were to give them away—”

“Silence!” Lauritz’s gaze turned icy, warning the old man.

It was evident that any further objection would result in severe consequences.