The Strongest War God - Chapter 1442

Chapter 1442: Scatter the Blood of the Neal Family
Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Only through battle could one truly gauge their strength!

While Malachi Zadroga remained stunned, he showcased his formidable prowess.

Rising to prominence in the Hall of Souls, where genius abounded, and subduing peers of equal caliber with his saint realm cultivation was no mean feat.

It was extraordinary, especially for a rogue cultivator to achieve such heights.

Without opportunity, it would be hard to believe.

Malachi gripped his spear tightly.

As its cold light gleamed, a sharp spear intent emanated from it, enveloping him.

A faint path seemed to materialize around him–the shadow of a long spear, standing between heaven and earth, pushing the boundaries of the martial path.

It was the culmination of mastering the great paths, akin to the transformation of the great path into a spear–a display of the pinnacle of cultivation.

“Attack!” Malachi commanded.

Though taken aback by Braydon Neal’s venture onto the legendary primordial chaos path, he refused to yield to the primordial chaos path alone.

Only through the crucible of battle would the true victor emerge.

The spear thrust forward, meeting the primordial chaos sword head-on.

Their clash reverberated through the air.

Malachi’s immense strength seemed poised to overwhelm the primordial chaos sword.

After all, he was a peak saint, while Braydon was merely at the third level of the divine realm–an entire major realm apart.

However, in an instant…

Braydon widened his dual-pupils, and twelve wings unfurled from his back.

With his dual-pupils active, he effortlessly dispersed the spear intent wherever his gaze fell, aided by the formidable power of his twelve wings.

The true potential of his dual-pupils and twelve wings was something Braydon had never fully explored before.

In fact, he had never relied on his innate bloodline talent, instead forging his path based on his own path–the one that resonated most with him.

This was partly because Braydon’s bloodline had awakened relatively late.

Unlike many bloodline families that nurtured their children’s abilities from a young age, Braydon had only recently tapped into his bloodline’s potential.

Given his personality, he naturally resisted this sudden surge of power, unable to fully unleash its potential.

Lyndal Cadogan was taken aback.

“The Neal family’s ten eyes, the Foreman family’s twelve wings. Who are you?”

Having grown up in the Elysium, Lyndal was well-versed in the bloodline families of the Spirit Sea.

The mention of the Neal family’s ten-eyed dual-pupils evoked memories of Thirteen, whose remarkable feats were legendary.

Despite his youthful appearance, Thirteen possessed the cultivation of an eminent saint realm, capable of challenging and even slaying holy masters–an astonishing feat that showcased his unparalleled strength.

Thirteen’s ability to not only defeat but also kill opponents even in the face of formidable adversaries made him a formidable force.

While defeating someone might be relatively easy, the act of killing posed a far greater challenge–one that Thirteen seemed to have mastered effortlessly.

However, Thirteen had caused a stir throughout the Spirit Sea, sparking widespread fear.

Now, with another member of the Neal family possessing the ten-eyed dual-pupils, the situation grew even more unnerving.

What made Braydon even more formidable was the addition of the feathered-men bloodline within him, granting him twelve innate wings.

His potential for the future was truly terrifying.

Malachi gripped his spear firmly and met Braydon’s attack head-on.

He appeared somewhat relaxed, even laughing wildly and arrogantly.

“Haha, the Neal family’s ten-eyed dual-pupils are nothing special. They pale in comparison to the three-eyed dual-pupil expert I vanquished in the past!”

His words were like a provocation–a dare.

Despite having blood on his hands from the Neal family, he dared to taunt them openly.

It seemed he wasn’t afraid that Braydon might seek vengeance by wiping out his entire family.

However, Braydon remained composed, neither anxious nor enraged.

He breathed out slowly and declared, “The Neal and Foreman families may be renowned in the Spirit Sea, but on my path to ascendance, the sands of the desert are littered with the corpses of my enemies. I’ve never relied on anyone else to survive.

“For me, my faith lies solely in the blade in my hand,” he continued, his voice steady and resolute. “I don’t even trust my teachers–whether it’s the Martial Emperor Teacher, Old Devil King Teacher, Sovereign Lord Teacher of Heavenly Mountain, Mount Sino Teacher Jansky, or any others. Nor do I trust the elders in my family, whose actions can sever family ties.

“I, Braydon Neal, stand firm in my convictions,” he declared. “I trust only a select few–the little fool and the other misfits, Sadie, and Heather. Everyone else is subject to doubt.”

…

Braydon’s tone remained calm, but the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down the spine.

After all, he still held dominion over the northern territory–a young man who had single-handedly killed 800,000 foes from the northern countries.

Malachi’s smile turned cold. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill you.”

“Who would dare? Killing him would incur the wrath of the two super families. Our backers wouldn’t be able to shield us,” another newcomer chimed in, his smile equally icy.

“We’re merely reminiscing about the past and deliberating,” Braydon replied with closed eyes.

Braydon’s resort to words to reach a decision was unusual.

He had always been resolute in his actions, typically not resorting to verbal coercion.

This deviation hinted at the enormity of the situation at hand.

And indeed, the matter was significant.

Braydon instinctively resisted the ten-eyed dual-pupils and the twelve wings within him.

They represented an unbreakable bond between two families–a bond that tethered him to his past as the Northern King.

However, the weight of familial ties clouded Braydon’s judgment.

The former Braydon possessed a keen intellect from a young age, challenging the constraints of family expectations and his predetermined martial path.

As the white-robed Northern King, he had once dared to confront the capital single-handedly, his fury shaking the world.

But could the present Braydon truly live up to the legacy of the former Northern King?

Did he still hold true to the promises of the past?

Did he still remember the promises made with the sons of the Northern Army?

Did he still embody the unwavering faith instilled in him during his youth?

Memories of bygone days flooded Braydon’s mind, urging him to confront his past and reconcile it with his present.

Braydon closed his eyes, enveloped in a swirling chaotic aura.

His lips parted slightly as he murmured, “Scatter the blood of the Neal family. Break the twelve wings and rediscover my true self.”

The revelation of Braydon’s dual-pupils from the Neal family and the twelve wings from the Foremans raised a crucial question: did Braydon truly need them?

These traits, forcefully ingrained in his bloodline, had become shackles rather than assets.

The shock rippled through the onlookers.

“No!” Lyndal’s abrupt outcry echoed, his expression contorted in alarm.

“Curses!”

Several others joined in, their faces awash with varying degrees of distress.

They weren’t naive; they understood the gravity of the situation.

If Braydon were to shed the blood of the Neal family today, regardless of the reason, it would spell doom for them all.

The blame would fall squarely on their shoulders–forcing Braydon’s hand or compelling him to self-mutilate.

The prospect of Neal family’s ire loomed large.

It would surely trigger their wrath.

Every individual present would become targets of the Neal family’s fury.

“We must stop him,” Lyndal urged in a hushed tone. “If any harm befalls him, the Neal and Foreman families might indeed instigate a family war on his behalf.”

“And if something were to happen to him, imagine the Neal family’s response to losing two ten-eyed dual-pupils within a century,” another voice chimed in solemnly. “They would be driven to madness.”

Yet, despite the mounting opposition, Braydon remained resolute in his determination to act.

No one could halt his actions.

Braydon had demonstrated such audacity during wartime.

Malachi’s complexion turned ashen, his demeanor verging on collapse.

He was on the brink of spitting blood.

Braydon’s actions seemed unhinged, yet he chose this moment deliberately.

As his adversary, Malachi was unwittingly lured into a deadly trap.

The world would undoubtedly perceive Malachi as the catalyst for Braydon’s self-mutilation.

“You wretched fool!” Malachi seethed, sheathing his spear and bracing for a charge.

Swoosh!

Braydon’s eyes snapped open, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I just recalled our battle isn’t concluded. Forget it; I’ll kill you with a single blow. Your fate hinges on luck!”

“What?!”