The Strongest War God

“He can’t spare even a moment for his own children?”

Harold Sage’s frustration was palpable.

As the child’s uncle and Heather Sage’s biological brother, he felt slighted by Braydon Neal’s indifference.

Despite the children reaching their first birthday, Braydon hadn’t even bestowed a title upon Heather.

Harold interpreted this as a blatant disregard for the Sage family’s status.

“What he’s undertaking is of utmost importance,” Heather responded softly. “Should he succeed, he could elevate Hansworth’s influence to unprecedented heights, positioning our nation at the forefront of the world stage.”

“Success or not, he still owes you,” Harold persisted, his ire unabated.

Meanwhile, the little girl remained on the brink of tears.

Heather chose not to dwell further.

She alone understood Braydon’s predicament.

Entrenched within the Donta Imperial City, amidst the aborigines’ stronghold, progress proved arduous.

Yet, she couldn’t burden her family with such concerns.

Revealing the truth would only sow unnecessary worry.

Underneath the bright sun, the group rested on the lawn.

Coincidentally, Louis Neal cast a stern glance toward the Neal family manor’s entrance, his expression betraying a hint of unease.

Heather, too, sensed a foreboding presence, her demeanor turning frosty.

A procession of individuals emerged at the Neal family manor’s entrance—a white-haired elder in a traditional suit, a red-haired youth adorned with earrings, and an unassuming young lady among them.

Their arrival bore ill tidings.

“Harold, escort Grandma back to the Bright Hall to get some rest,” Louis instructed.

“Laura, take the children indoors. It’s time to prepare lunch,” Liam Neal added gently.

Yet, from a distance, the elder in the suit interjected slowly, “Guests from the south are paying respects to a wealthy family like the Neals. How could the family withhold hospitality?”

“Do you not know if you’re a guest or an adversary?”

Numerous hidden agents from the Northern Army were both inside and outside the Neal family manor.

Suddenly, hundreds of hidden agents materialized, their presence overwhelming.

However, despite their collective might, they proved no match for the formidable strength of the seven intruders.

A subtle smile crept across the old man’s face as a radiant beam emanated from his forehead.

With a surge of mental power, the consciousness of the hidden agents was swiftly subdued, rendering them unconscious.

“A martial artist!” Heather exclaimed, her gaze fixed on the group.

“The Oracle has instructed us to retrieve the young master and miss and transport them to the Oracle Palace,” the earring-clad youth addressed Heather.

“From the Oracle Palace?” Heather’s shock and outrage were palpable.

“How did you leave the ruins?” she questioned.

She possessed some knowledge of the events unfolding in the ruins.

The bronze gates on the South Pole Island served as the entry and exit points for martial artists from both factions.

How had people from the Oracle Palace emerged in the outside world?

It was a matter of significant concern.

In contrast, Louis remained composed.

He harbored no surprise at the appearance of the Oracle Palace’s practitioners in the outside realm, possessing insights unknown to others.

Over the years, he had been tracking down the gods’ descendants who ventured into the outside world.

“We have no intention of causing harm. Our objective is merely to escort the young master and miss,” the old man in the suit asserted placidly.

“Harm? Dare you lay a finger on these children?” Louis’s eyes flashed with a menacing glint.

In an instant, a palpable emperor aura swept across the entire Neal family manor—Emperor Louis asserting his dominance.

“Eldest Master Neal, your prowess precedes you. Beckett Neal holds you in high esteem,” the old man murmured respectfully.

Upon learning of the Neal family’s existence in Preston, Beckett had expressed a desire to nurture them.

Recognizing Louis as the most promising heir, he sought to groom him accordingly.

Regrettably, discord had arisen between Graham Neal and Louis, stemming from a disagreement in the South Pole.

The exact cause remained a mystery to outsiders.

Louis raised his hand, summoning a three-foot-long blade. “You’re from the 16th ruin. Tell me, who let you out?”

“Naturally, someone of significance,” the old man in the suit responded casually as he made his move.

In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between them.

The seven intruders harbored no ill intent toward anyone present.

However, their objective was clear—to retrieve Braydon’s two children and transport them to 16th ruin.

Moreover, they came prepared, fully aware of Louis’s formidable strength, yet they dared to confront him.

It was evident that they possessed considerable resources, enough to challenge an emperor.

Louis’s gaze turned icy as he lunged forward, his sword poised for action.

However, instead of unleashing a blade of light, he seemed intent on relying solely on the sword itself to subdue these martial arts experts.

The old man in the suit had likely spent considerable time in the outside world, concealed within the city’s midst.

Without his own initiative, he would have remained virtually undetectable.

A shimmering golden light emanated from his spiritual aperture as he directed his mental power toward Louis.

Yet, he exercised restraint, mindful of the catastrophic consequences if his powers were unleashed recklessly.

Any collateral damage could provoke a swift and severe response from the nation.

Simultaneously, they received strict orders to ensure the safe extraction of Braydon’s children to the 16th ruin, unscathed.

The clash between the two was intense, each wielding their powers with precision.

His mental power spread out and instantly materialized, turning into weapon.

It became evident that the old man was no ordinary adversary; he, too, was an emperor.

With a swift stroke, Louis’s sword cleaved through the air, disrupting the flow of mental power released by the old man around them.

Swoosh!

“Pfft!”

The old man in the suit expelled a mouthful of blood, his complexion turning pallid, fear glinting in his eyes.

“Will-Slashing Sword? Who are you?” he demanded, his voice tinged with anger.

Moments earlier, the mental power he had unleashed was abruptly severed, akin to having his cultivation forcibly cut off.

Martial artists mainly focused on mental power.

It was a debilitating blow, leaving him vulnerable and injured.

It was like an ancient martial arts practitioner who had his vitality cut off by a sword.

If one’s cultivation was cut off and his foundation shaken, he would definitely be injured.

Throughout Hansworth’s history of combating the ruins, they had developed specialized weapons to counter martial artists, including the infamous God Slaying Bow wielded by Braydon.

Once the bow was drawn, a god would definitely die.

It was a bow used to kill gods.

With a sinister gleam in his eyes, the old man pressed further, “The forging method of the Will-Slashing Sword has long been lost. Where did you acquire this sword?”

Louis remained silent, his focus solely on launching another attack.

His sword emanated a cold, murderous aura as he advanced.

Observing the sword closely, the young man refrained from releasing his mental power, noticing a small seal character—a serial number—etched onto the blade.

It bore the symbol ‘five.’

“He’s from the Fifth Divine Palace!” the young man exclaimed urgently, though his warning came too late.

As martial artists unable to wield their mental power, they were rendered helpless.

Louis’s swift strike impaled the old man’s chest, instantly claiming his life.

Stunned, the remaining six intruders hesitated momentarily.

“Let’s go!” the earring-clad youth rasped, urgency lacing his voice.

But Liam’s gaze turned icy, harboring a cold determination.

Once a prominent figure in the Neal family, he had sought refuge in Lamar with his wife and daughter, ultimately rescued by Braydon.