The Strongest War God - Chapter 1341

Chapter 1341: Standing Between Heaven and Earth, Undefeatable with a Long Roar

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Apart from his knack for foolishness, Luke Yates seemed to excel at everything else.

Yet, in the eyes of his elder brother Braydon Neal, this little fool was probably the best choice.

As Braydon stepped out, two black battle sabers gripped firmly, the distant roar of the silver-scaled dragon echoed relentlessly.

It could clearly sense Braydon’s formidable presence from afar; the instincts of beasts were keen indeed.

Confronting danger, it possessed an innate awareness unlike ordinary folk.

“Foolish human, dare you still to provoke me?” The silver-scaled dragon’s words carried a human-like tone, indicating the repeated provocations by the little fool.

Not just once, but multiple times!

Meanwhile, beneath the dragon’s lair, a thousand meters underground, a young man cloaked in dust diligently dug a hole, plotting a stealthy assault on the silver-scaled dragon.

His surprise was palpable in the damp, dark confines below.

“What in blazes? How did this numskull sniff me out?” the little fool grumbled as he halted his excavation.

Aware that he couldn’t best the dragon in direct combat, he had devised this subterranean sneak attack.

Yet, his attempts from below had repeatedly faltered, leaving him no choice but to resort to ambush tactics.

Little did he anticipate being discovered within days.

It dawned on him that it wasn’t the dragon who found him; someone was impersonating him, the little fool!

Enraged, he realized he was usually the one donning false identities and orchestrating mischief.

Why would anyone be masquerading as Luke?

A furry skull, caked in mud and blood, emerged cautiously, its shifty eyes scanning the surroundings.

Before long, Luke caught sight of his brother—the masked figure in white!

Despite the mask, the little fool could discern Braydon; even if he were reduced to ashes, the little fool could sniff him out.

“Brother?”

The little fool stood dumbfounded; it had been ages since he last saw Braydon.

His brothers, Jonah Shaw and the others, kept a close watch over Luke, warning him against seeking Braydon out.

After all, Braydon’s adversaries were a league of divine-level figures. Han’s interference would only spell trouble—an inch of misstep, and he’d be facing death’s door.

Meanwhile, Braydon strode from the eastern gate of the royal city, brandishing two menacing black sabers, leaving a trail of death in his wake.

Thirteen emperor-level beasts fell to his twin blades as he made his way.

Above the capital, the black-armored elites remained oblivious to the unfolding chaos—it was the Northern Army!

“Commander Yates!” Tanner Lynn, leading the first regiment, bellowed proudly.

Only the little fool’s elder brothers dared to address him by his silly moniker, as if he were their younger sibling.

Among the millions in the Northern Army, who else dared to utter the little fool’s name?

He was the commander’s most cherished younger brother, who had once carved his name in the annals of the Northern Desert.

Once, he ventured into foreign lands alone and single-handedly slew tens of thousands of foes in a single battle—a legend forged in blood, striking fear into foreign enemies.

In the Northern Army, all high-ranking figures were hardened warriors; outsiders merely saw Luke as a mischievous lad.

But had they witnessed Luke on a rampage? Not once. Yet, every soul in the Northern Army had beheld their men in action.

When Commander Yates returned, his rank was akin to a lieutenant commander.

None could fathom that this imposter Luke was none other than their own commander, aiding in the eradication of the most formidable spirit beasts

Spurred by Braydon’s reckless assaults, in the heart of Zunde Royal City, Tanner marshaled the first legion, leading them into battle.

The city had become a battleground; it was no surprise that conflict erupted.

In recent months, there had been no shortage of skirmishes.

The first legion exited the city; 70,000 cavalrymen pounded the earth, black-gold battle swords unsheathed.

Tanner proudly bore the Northern Army Qilin Flag, leading the charge.

But as they neared Braydon, Tanner sensed something awry.

This wasn’t Luke—it was an imposter!

Just as he was about to call out, Braydon, masked, turned to face him, sparking recognition in Tanner’s eyes.

“Northern Army, undefeated!” he exclaimed, his voice echoing with excitement.

Braydon’s thin lips parted, uttering those three words.

Only one person could rightfully claim them—the commander, Braydon!

Tears welled in Tanner’s eyes.

After months of grueling warfare, the sight of the commander’s return filled him with profound emotion.

Leading them onto the battlefield, he stood as an indomitable force, undefeated!

In an instant, every man in the Northern Army grasped the truth: the masked youth wasn’t Luke; he was none other than the northern territory’s king, the unparalleled Northern King!

“Undefeated!” echoed the resounding cry of Tanner and his comrades—a declaration of Northern Army’s unwavering faith.

When Braydon struck, he naturally shielded the Northern Army men who pledged allegiance to him.

With a renewed assault, Braydon wielded his blades, decimating a swath of beasts.

The silver-scaled dragon could no longer remain passive; the slaughter of its underlings weakened its dominion.

In the heavens, a winged white tiger unleashed a deafening roar—a formidable adversary indeed.

There were three quasi-divine spirit beasts.

The white-jade spirit tiger was the strongest of all.

But with a glance, Braydon soared forth.

With a single stroke, his blade sent shockwaves through the realm, cleaving the white tiger in two—a swift, decisive end as though he severed its head in an instant.

The speed was unimaginable.

Braydon had killed two divines before this, and now, he was in pursuit of a quasi-divine spirit beast.

It proved to be no challenge at all.

The demise of the white-jade spirit tiger sent shockwaves through the silver-scaled dragon, a creature of remarkable intelligence.

“You’re no ordinary lad!” it snarled, a tinge of fear in its voice.

“Realization came too late!” Braydon’s gaze turned frigid.

The silver-scaled dragon before him was the very beast that had assaulted Khalil Zorn—it was destined for death.

Amidst the chaos of the ruins, the deaths of Khalil and Channing Lestrange were inevitable.

The turmoil was about to reach its zenith, with the imminent opening of the bronze door—the most harrowing phase yet.

Even among Northern Army’s men, casualties were a grim reality in such monumental battles.

Braydon had reconciled himself to the possibility of death.

Were it not for Constantine Siegel’s timely dispatch of the Sky Splitting Wings back then, Braydon would have met his end at the bronze door.

Facing mortality head-on, he embraced the duty of a warrior.

The terrified silver-scaled dragon attempted to flee, but escape was futile.

With a resounding hum, a black mark materialized in the air.

Accompanied by a Shadow Flying Dagger, it pierced straight through the dragon’s skull.

Braydon proceeded with utmost caution, swiftly severing heads to conceal his identity.

His continued onslaught soon caught the attention of the Northern Army men, drawing them to the eastern gate.

“Witnessing Braydon’s prowess is awe-inspiring,” Frediano Jadanza murmured under his breath.

“Just ten minutes ago, our hidden agents confirmed Braydon’s capability to slay a divine-level figure,” Luther Carden informed him, referring to Braydon’s recent conquests of two divines.

A spark of hope ignited in Jonah Shaw’s eyes.

If Braydon were to ascend to the divine realm, the 16th ruin would fall under the Northern Army’s territory.

With a divine-level guardian from the Northern Army, they could rest assured, sheltered from any storm that may come their way.