The Strongest War God

Chapter 1226: The Young Man in Black Looks Like the Northern King

Chapter 1226: The Young Man in Black Looks Like the Northern King

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Braydon Neal’s faint voice emerged from within, “Someone needs to guard the bronze door. Please help me convey to Heather that once I’ve rescued Grandpa and Uncle Lowell. I’ll go back and see her.”

Fidel Camacho owed his life to Braydon’s words; otherwise, given Devil Yanagi’s personality, he would have surely killed him today.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye as Finley Yanagi vanished instantly after Braydon entered the 16th ruin.

Inside the ruins stood an ancient city, its scale rivaling that of the 14th ancient city.

In the southeast direction, eight thousand miles away from the city, the towering mountains echoed with beastly roars.

Spirit beasts gathered and fought over territory, their daily struggles visible from afar.

These spirit beasts, driven by a relentless need to expand their territories, showcased their strength through territorial disputes.

Adult spirit beasts engaged in daily battles, making them the most restless species.

In the dense forest surrounded by mountains, ancient altars covered a large area.

A five-colored altar, constructed from stone, had ensnared possibly hundreds of people, with numerous corpses scattered on the ground.

Within the deepest part of the altar lay a dilapidated ancient temple where a stone statue was worshiped.

Kneeling in front of the temple’s door, a white-haired old man, Graham Neal, the Neal family’s patriarch, muttered incomprehensible words.

His weakening vitality resembled a candle flickering in the wind, on the verge of extinguishing at any moment.

Lowell Neal, having arrived earlier, struggled to move within the outer five-colored altar with a penetrating wound on his abdomen.

Over 300 people, including experts from the South Pole Island’s major families and aborigine powerhouses, were trapped within the 1,000-meter radius of the altar.

The peculiar circumstances surrounding this place drained their energy with each step, making escape seem impossible.

This was where the Jo family’s prominent figure met his demise a few months ago, torn apart by a mysterious figure in the ancient temple.

Now, the life force of Graham, the Neal family’s patriarch, hung by a thread—his imminent death approaching.

Meanwhile, 8,000 miles away, the 16th ancient city stood, its mysteries waiting to unfold.

The city walls rose to a height of twenty-one meters, crafted from special soil sourced from the ruins, rendering it impervious to ordinary spirit artifacts.

The colossal city mystified observers with its grandeur. It was unknown how much manpower and material resources were needed to build such a large city.

Braydon, upon his arrival, swiftly grasped the significance of what his mentor, Finley, had mentioned.

Why did the 14th ruin stand apart from its counterparts?

The answer was simple: chaos!

The 16th ruin embodied a realm of disorder.

Upon Braydon’s initial arrival, the pungent scent of blood pervaded the air.

The 16th ancient city’s towering walls echoed with the incessant roars of spirit beasts and the clamor of aborigines.

Tens of thousands of aborigines orchestrated attacks, resulting in a mountain of corpses beneath the ancient city.

Dressed in white, Braydon materialized in the core area of the ancient city, finding an unguarded entrance.

His presence went unnoticed as the city’s martial artists directed their attention outward.

There were martial artists from both the west and the east of the hundred countries.

It wa a diverse coalition of martial artists, representing different skin tones and origins.

In the outside world, these martial artists were hostile to each other.

However, in the 16th ancient city, they were united against a common enemy.

Atop the towering city wall stood a black-robed youth, unmistakably no older than fifteen.

Despite his youth, he exuded a palpable murderous aura, clutching a black spear in his hand.

This enigmatic figure, adorned in black, commanded the ancient city with the prowess of someone who had already reached the supreme pinnacle realm.

He was a true youth pinnacle.

The ruler of the 16th ancient city, Sorrell Neal, surveyed the black mass of aborigines before him and bellowed, “Where are the black armored cavalry?”

In response, the gates of the 16th ancient city swung open, and the earth trembled.

“The armored cavalry’s here!”

A torrent of black steel surged from the main street, each figure donned in black armor, wielding black swords, and concealing their faces behind black ghost masks.

Mounted on black-armored warhorses, they formed a formidable force—the black armored cavalry.

This stood as the elite force of the 16th ancient city – the Black Armored Army, a force invincible wherever their blades pointed.

The aborigines harbored a deep-seated fear for them.

In the blink of an eye, ten thousand black-armored cavalry surged forth, led by Sorrell, the black-clad teenager, who held command over the Black Armored Army.

“Defend the city!” he coldly ordered, leaping down from the city wall.

“Protect the ancient city and wipe out the foreign tribes! Kill them!”

A torrent of black-clad warriors flooded out, crushing the aborigine army beneath the city wall, despite the tens of thousands of aboriginal soldiers and numerous spirit beasts participating in the bloody battle.

Observing the conflict was Braydon, who had hurriedly arrived.

This wasn’t a minor skirmish—it was war.

As the king of the northern territory, Braydon, who had grown up amidst war, calmly gazed at the young Sorrell, the black-robed youth.

“Is that Sorrell?” he inquired softly.

“He carries the Neal family’s demeanor.”

The young Sorrell displayed the potential of a rising dragon, destined to surpass his second uncle.

A fierce battle unfolded below the ancient city.

Braydon, not yet acquainted with the surroundings, transformed into a gust of wind, landing on the city wall before descending into the battlefield.

Amidst the chaos, Sorrell, holding a black spear, confronted him.

“Who are you?” he questioned, engaged in combat.

“Your father is my second uncle. Who do you think I am?” Braydon replied, chuckling lightly.

“You’re my uncle’s child?” Sorrell retorted angrily.

“Is someone else pretending to be me?” Braydon said leisurely.

Ignoring the banter, Sorrel said coldly, “This is a battlefield. We can talk later. Koa, Laken, help my brother escape the battlefield!”

“Yes, sir!”

The two iron-blooded generals promptly carried Braydon, intending to charge out.

Braydon, somewhat stunned, found himself being considered a burden by his younger brother. Ever since he was young, he had always been the one protecting the Northern Army sons from the bad guys. Yet, he was now a burden.

Without hesitation, Sorrell unleashed his vitality, forming a thousand-meter-long red spear that cleared a path, annihilating all aborigines and spirit beasts in its wake, providing an escape route for Braydon.

Sorrell’s exceptional talent and strength were evident.

Back on the city wall, Koa Short, the youth in black armor, addressed Sorrell with a serious tone. “Young Master, it’s your first time in the ruins. You’re not familiar with the situation here. Please don’t cause trouble.”

“The aborigines are serious this time. They know that the old master is trapped, and they want to take the opportunity to attack us.” Laken Savage, the black-armored man, clenched his fists tightly, radiating murderous intent.