The Strongest War God

Ignoring the comments from the two, Braydon Neal took his position on the city wall, surveying the expansive battlefield spanning a 50-mile radius.

Indigenous martial artists continued to flood the immense battleground.

The natives demonstrated a strategic approach, orchestrating their attacks in waves of tens of thousands.

While lacking coordination, this tactic allowed each martial artist to unleash their maximum combat strength.

Behind the scenes, the controller of the aborigine army displayed skill in military deployment.

What was even more fatal was that the 16th ancient city stood isolated without reinforcements.

Every aborigine invasion transformed into a fight to the death for the city’s inhabitants, defending with their backs against the wall—a scenario reminiscent of Braydon’s early days leading the Northern Army, a lone force without reinforcements.

They could only defend to the death!

Braydon’s gaze sharpened as he surveyed the battlefield, his lips moving slightly. “How many legions are there in the ancient city?” he inquired.

Koa Short was taken aback by the unexpected question, while Laken Savage responded decisively. “The Black Armored Army is the city’s most elite force. The rest are scattered. Due to the mobility of most martial artists, forming a unified army for city defense is impractical. When the aborigines invade, soldiers, regardless of age or condition, fill the ancient city!”

Every inhabitant became a soldier, a setup with both advantages and disadvantages.

The ancient city, typically tranquil, could unleash formidable power during wartime.

However, the martial artists did not know each other. This unfamiliarity among the temporary army led to coordination challenges.

Battle experience and natural tacit understanding were the only remedies for these shortcomings.

Frowning, Braydon sought a solution.

Koa hesitated before offering information.

“There are 100,000 guards in the ancient city. The Young Master has prohibited any mobilization without his consent, considering them the last line of defense.”

Braydon, with a light tone, issued a directive. “Immediately mobilize the guards. Have the ten regiments await orders.”

Mobilizing the guards posed a significant challenge.

“Eldest Young Master, we lack the authority to mobilize the guards,” Laken expressed in surprise.

Braydon’s slight frown indicated he had forgotten that this was the 16th ancient city, not the northern territory.

In the Northern Territory, any directive from Braydon would be treated as a military order, obliging everyone to comply.

However, the 16th ancient city operated under different rules.

Braydon reflected, “It’s easier to defend passively, but sometimes taking the initiative is more effective. The aborigines display high morale, charging recklessly. This continuous assault might be linked to our passive defense.

“The aborigines are trying their best to through the city, and if unsuccessful, they’ll retreat. Your defensive strategy is fueling their arrogance and morale.”

Braydon observed the battlefield with his hands behind his back, seemingly born with an innate ability to analyze situations.

On the battleground below, members of the Black Armored Army lay in pools of blood, and numerous aborigine martial artists met their demise.

Limbs and body parts were strewn across the area.

Koa and Laken were taken aback by Braydon’s unexpected remarks.

It became apparent that Braydon wasn’t just some affluent young master. However, they remained unqualified to mobilize the city guards.

The responsibility fell on Sorrell Neal’s shoulders, and he was currently engaged in combat outside the city.

Even if Braydon asked, it was unlikely Sorrell would grant permission for guard mobilization.

If others sought to command the Northern Army under Braydon, he would not allow it either.

The fierce battle below reached its climax as over 70,000 aborigine martial artists encircled Sorrell from three directions.

Their aim was to cut off Sorrell’s escape route and engulf him alongside the Black Armored Army.

Unwilling to stand idly by, Braydon turned around, surveying the city wall’s four sides and the multitude of martial artists within the city.

There were at least a million martial artists, spanning all ages, who had settled in the 16th ruin since its opening.

“Are there any disciples of Hansworth here?” Braydon inquired, hands clasped behind his back.

“I am Rhett Jenks, a Hansworth martial artist. Who are you?” shouted a middle-aged martial artist from the crowd on the main street of the city in response to Braydon’s question.

In reply, Braydon effortlessly transformed into nine supremes with a single thought.

All nine silhouettes spoke simultaneously, “I’m a disciple of Hansworth. Surely, you recognize this combat technique?”

“Son of Heaven Combat Technique?” exclaimed Rhett, the middle-aged martial artist, in shock.

“The Son of Heaven Nine Strikes is the Son of Heaven Combat Technique!” added a white-haired old man with a trembling voice.

Undeterred, Braydon released his vitality, morphing into nine giant dragons with a single thought.

The nine-hundred-meter-long crimson dragons circled in the sky, capturing everyone’s attention.

“Nine Dragons Secret Technique!” Koa exclaimed in astonishment.

“It’s the direct inheritance of the Martial Emperor! How does the Eldest Young Master know the Nine Dragons Secret Technique cultivated by the capital’s Martial Emperor?” Laken questioned, visibly shocked.

Without time for explanations, Braydon had a singular goal: to see if the Hansworth descendants of the ancient city would heed his orders.

He conveyed, “The enemy is coming. Sorrell is fighting outside the city and facing a heavy siege. If the aborigines surround him, the Black Armored Army will be wiped out. I am the direct descendant of the Martial Emperor. The sons of Hansworth, are you willing to listen to me?”

“Yes!” echoed an iron-blooded voice throughout the city.

In the vast city, heroic men were not in short supply.

Those who survived in the ruins were unafraid of battle and possessed unwavering passion.

With a slash of his left hand, two large flags descended from the city wall.

Braydon gestured, “These two flags serve as a signal. Follow the direction they point to with your lives.”

“Yes, sir!” came the resolute response.

A chorus of hundreds of thousands of voices echoed from the towering ancient city, a mix of 80-year-old men and 12-year-old youths, all gazing up at Braydon.

The children of Hansworth resembled a fiery ball when gathered and scattered like stars.

Turning around, Braydon handed the two flags to Koa and Laken.

He spoke softly, “I’ll have to trouble the two of you next. If you come back alive, we shall celebrate your return!”

“We were disrespectful earlier, Eldest Young Master. We hope for your forgiveness!” Koa apologized, bending down.

Unaware of Braydon’s true background, Koa found him unexpectedly formidable—the direct descendant of the capital’s Martial Emperor and the imminent successor.

Braydon helped Koa up and uttered, “It’s a narrow escape for a soldier carrying a flag. I’ll await your return.”

“Take care, Eldest Young Master!” Laken bowed and departed with the black flag.

Standing on the city wall, Braydon raised his left hand slightly, pointing in two directions.

The two flags separated, guiding over 300,000 martial artists, a diverse group of old and young men, as they charged out of the city gate.

Observing from the city wall, Braydon witnessed the two black flags colliding with the aborigine army on both sides, marking the commencement of slaughter.