The Strongest War God

“Alright!”

Luther Carden and his comrades shared the same strategy.

They understood that even with potential future developments, they had to wait for the Northern Army to upgrade their equipment.

Luther elaborated, “While the Northern Army is recuperating, I propose activating the military merit reward system through the logistics department. Those who have contributed can redeem rewards, such as spirit herbs, weapons, and spirit pills.”

He emphasized the importance of creating a virtuous cycle, especially for soldiers with martial prowess.

Strengthening oneself would lead to more contributions, more rewards, and ultimately, faster growth in strength.

Braydon Neal concurred, tasking Luther with the responsibility of distributing armor and weapons to all soldiers free of charge, without the need for them to exchange battle merits.

They were all spirit artifacts.

As night descended and the Northern Army secured Machusa, all troops took refuge within its walls under martial law.

Braydon personally guarded Machusa and enforced a strict curfew, authorizing the elimination of any aboriginal martial artists found on the streets after dark.

The order to kill was given.

Pinnacles were stationed at key intersections, while the 3,000 imperial guards patrolled the roads, ensuring peace during the night.

After the day’s grueling battle, rest was essential, and any disturbance from Machusa’s inhabitants would be met with swift retribution.

However, neither Braydon nor Luther foresaw the looming crisis that would soon envelop Machusa, shrouding its surroundings in darkness and an eerie silence.

During the night, Yuri Qualls, leading his troops on patrol, stood atop the city gate, gazing up at the shrouded sky.

The moon obscured by dark clouds cast an oppressive shadow over the city, instilling a sense of unease.

Yuri’s voice broke the silence, his tone grave.

“Stay vigilant, everyone. Increase patrols throughout the city. Tonight feels ominous, like something significant is about to occur.”

“Third Master, perhaps the intensity of today’s battle has taken its toll on you. Why not rest while we handle the patrols?” suggested a regimental commander, concerned for Yuri’s well-being.

Yuri shook his head resolutely.

“No need. With the seven legions resting in Machusa, we cannot afford to let our guard down.”

His words were interrupted by a sharp cry piercing through the night – the unmistakable call of a flying spirit beast.

A massive shadow eagle, its wings spanning a hundred meters, soared into view, its formidable presence casting a chilling aura over Machusa.

It was an eighth-level spirit beast!

Yuri’s expression shifted, urgency in his voice. “Spirit beasts are attacking the city! Prepare for battle!”

As if on cue, a multitude of birds filled the night sky, while countless spirit beasts emerged on the ground, numbering in the tens of thousands.

It was undoubtedly a beast tide, drawn by the scent of blood lingering from the day’s fierce battle.

The ground, strewn with corpses and soaked in blood, acted as a morbid beacon, triggering the predatory instincts of the spirit beasts.

With nightfall amplifying their keen sense of smell, it was inevitable that they would be drawn to the scene.

Above, the cries of birds echoed, while on the ground, the roars of beasts signaled their relentless advance.

Countless spirit beasts of various species thundered across the earth, converging upon Machusa in a relentless onslaught.

Atop the city walls, Braydon, clad in white, surveyed the approaching dust clouds with a somber gaze.

Spirit beasts encircled the city, their numbers posing a dire threat.

The Northern Army soldiers’ exhaustion from the day’s brutal battle had not faded, yet now they had to fight once more.

Now, facing the onslaught of spirit beasts, casualties were bound to mount.

“Brother, should we consider withdrawing from Machusa?”

Yuri ventured, stepping forward.

“It’s too late,” Braydon sighed, recognizing the futility of escape.

With the army retreating from the city, they would be vulnerable in the wilderness, risking annihilation at the hands of the beast horde.

“Commander, the Northern Army stands ready for battle,” Cole Colbie declared earnestly.

“I’ll face this battle alone,” Braydon stated softly, determination in his voice.

With hands clasped behind his back, he ascended into the night sky, solitary against the looming threat.

Yuri, taken aback, protested, “Brother, the odds are overwhelming. It’s too perilous to rely solely on your own strength.”

Ignoring his concerns, Braydon pressed on.

Tonight, the cost of engaging the spirit beasts with brute force would be catastrophic.

A legion might even face total obliteration.

Summoning his inner strength, Braydon unleashed eight techniques in unison, radiating a brilliant white light akin to a banished immortal amidst the darkness.

“Spirit Summoning Art, Eternal Light,” Braydon intoned softly.

In an instant, he became a beacon, casting light across the surrounding landscape.

Amidst the countless spirit beasts, two eighth-level behemoths and the shadow eagle remained prominent, joined by countless others in the relentless tide of beasts.

Their deafening roars filled the night, instilling fear in all who heard them.

Terror gripped the inhabitants of Machusa as the specter of death loomed over them.

With measured steps, Braydon advanced, his voice calm yet commanding amidst the chaos.

“Let rain fall upon the land!” he declared, and in an instant, the sky unleashed its fury, torrents of rain cascading down.

Facing the deluge, Braydon remained composed, his voice resonating like a tolling bell as he called forth his next command.

“Let frost blanket the land!”

As he spoke, the air turned frigid, a mist of frost enveloping the surroundings, chilling raindrops piercing to the bone.

With a deft motion, Braydon’s hand formed a sword finger as he bellowed his fourth invocation.

“Let ice reign over 800 miles!”

Instantly, a blanket of blue ice spread across the ground, ensnaring the spirit beasts in its icy grip.

Endowed with fourth-level mental power, Braydon effortlessly froze the beasts en masse, raindrops crystallizing into spears that pierced their flesh.

Sensing the divine power at play, the beasts trembled in fear, recognizing the descendant of the gods among them.

In the sky, the shadow eagle cried out in terror, its flight path veering away.

Even the spirit beasts on the ground dared not spill the blood of this divine progeny, for fear of invoking the wrath of the gods.

In that moment, amidst the chaos and danger, the awe-inspiring presence of the descendant of the gods quelled the beastly horde, sparing Machusa from further devastation.

Within a thousand miles, every spirit beast faced imminent judgment.

Were they to roam free without consequence?

Had they sought permission from the Northern King?

“Ten thousand thunder strikes the mortal realm, annihilation by thunder!” Braydon’s voice rang out softly yet authoritatively.

The sky darkened as ominous clouds gathered, heralding the arrival of a tempestuous storm in the dead of night.

With a resounding crack, a bolt of lightning, a thousand meters long, pierced the heavens and descended upon the earth.

In an instant, the world was illuminated by a blinding silver-white light, the thunderbolt akin to a divine spear.

Wherever it struck, death followed swiftly in its wake, obliterating all in its path.

The earth trembled as the lightning carved a crater a hundred meters wide, a stark testament to its devastating power.