The Strongest War God

“The commander appears to be inexperienced,” Braydon Neal observed as he strode to the forefront, casting his gaze upon Koku Msiza.

The 100,000 cavalrymen bowed their heads in salute to their leader.

“The opposing force seems to have abandoned the idea of defending Machusa to the death and is now actively sending troops to engage us. If that’s the case, we can minimize our siege casualties,” Braydon remarked.

“I’ve brought 3,000 imperial guards with me. We’ll join the fray and do our utmost to eliminate the enemy experts, thus reducing our own losses,” he added.

Braydon understood that in battles among skilled martial artists, the presence of an expert could lead to significant casualties.

With the strength of a pinnacle expert, tens of thousands of soldiers could fall in a mere fifteen minutes on the battlefield.

Therefore, he had to be vigilant.

In Braydon’s eyes, the lives of the Northern Army soldiers were precious, whereas the lives of aboriginal martial artists were expendable.

No matter how many fell, Braydon would not show mercy.

Meanwhile, the sound of cavalry approaching from the rear of the Northern Army caught their attention.

Had someone maneuvered behind the Northern Army?

“Prepare yourselves!” Luther Carden’s keen eyes flashed as he issued a low command. “Everyone, ready for battle!”

“I think it’s Sorrell,” Yuri Qualls observed from a distance.

Indeed, it was Sorrell Neal, leading the Black Armored Army from the 16th ancient city.

These elite cavalrymen were the core force of Sorrell’s army, responsible for guarding the city.

Upon learning of the Northern Army’s movement toward Machusa, Sorrell quickly surmised that his elder brother Braydon intended to attack.

Thus, he hastily led his troops to provide assistance.

For years, the 16th ancient city had remained on the defensive, never considering an offensive against the aboriginal cities.

However, with Braydon’s arrival, the situation had changed.

If they could seize Machusa, it would create a strategic stronghold alongside the 16th ancient city and Jaa’ku.

The trio could provide mutual support, transforming the central area of the three cities into a secure zone.

Together, these cities would form a triangular defense line, ensuring that if one side came under attack, the others could swiftly lend assistance.

Leading the charge, Sorrell spurred on the black-armored cavalry.

“Brother, why didn’t you inform me of your plan to attack Machusa?” he questioned.

“The aim of this war is to train our soldiers,” Braydon responded.

Turning to Cole Colbie, Braydon inquired, “Is Laird in position?”

“They’ve already encircled the rear of Machusa,” Cole promptly replied.

The first, second and third legions spearheaded the assault, while the fourth to seventh legions flanked behind Machusa.

Should Cole’s forces encounter resistance, Laird Xenos would swiftly launch an attack, leveraging the momentum to break through Machusa forcefully.

Braydon was adamant about avoiding a protracted conflict that would only lead to more casualties for the Northern Army, especially considering their lack of reinforcements in the ruins.

In a battle without reinforcements, any casualties in the army would permanently damage the overall strength of the army.

“The four legions are in position. Let the battle commence,” Braydon declared softly, hands clasped behind his back.

“Where are the Northern Army cavalry?” Cole’s voice sliced through the air.

“Here!”

The 100,000 soldiers of the first legion roared in response, led by Regimental Commander Tanner Lynn proudly bearing the Northern Army flag upon his shoulder, its black Qilin emblem fluttering in the wind.

As long as the flag stood, the Northern Army would charge forth relentlessly.

“Attack!”

Cole bellowed, drawing his black blade with a fierce growl.

With a swift motion, 100,000 cavalrymen unsheathed their swords, their blades poised to conquer all in their path.

The thunderous rhythm of hooves pounding against the earth reverberated across the battlefield, resembling a dark torrent sweeping relentlessly forward.

It was a bone-chilling sound.

Sorrell couldn’t help but be awestruck.

“Such a formidable force… How did my brother recruit such courageous elites from such a thriving city outside?”

He pondered aloud, his confusion evident.

He had assumed the ruins to be far more perilous than the outside world, unaware of the dangers his elder brother, Braydon, had faced beyond their confines.

Little did he know, his big brother had experienced as much danger in the outside world as he had in the ruins.

Meanwhile, 100,000 Northern Army cavalry charged ahead with unwavering valor, shaking the ground beneath them as the charge commenced.

At the base of Machusa, Koku’s complexion turned pale.

His 200,000 guards stood poised, weapons at the ready, while the million aboriginal martial artists, all seasoned fighters, rallied under the rallying cry of Koku, urging them to spill blood for glory and promotion.

“Kill them! Those who are alive must be injured. Kill more than a hundred enemies and you will be promoted to a noble!”

“Attack!”

The battle cry echoed as nearly a million martial artists surged forward, brandishing their weapons to meet the Northern Army onslaught head-on.

The clash was violent, blood painting the sky as the armies collided, their fury echoing across the battlefield.

In the aftermath, the Northern Army elite troops moved in silence, their cavalry pressing on, their path marked by the fallen bodies of aboriginal martial artists.

Riding atop the Cloud-treading Spirit Rhinoceroses, the 100,000 elites wielded their cold swords with deadly precision, cutting through the aboriginal martial artist without hesitation.

Luther personally led the second legion, wielding talismans as makeshift swords and commanding 76 flying swords.

Together, they followed behind the iron cavalry, carving a path through the aboriginal army and unleashing havoc with relentless ferocity.

Amidst the chaos, the figure of the white-robed Killing God Yuri stood out, his three-foot-long blade dripping with crimson.

Clad in snow-white garments, his every strike was swift and lethal, each swing of his sword claiming countless lives with its razor-sharp precision, leaving behind a vacuum of silence in its wake.

Even more terrifying were the 3,000 black-robed guards that Braydon had brought – the imperial guards.

Three thousand in number, they were all at the pinnacle realm, silently adding their might to the fray.

A thousand of them took to the skies, their vitality transforming into wings as they ascended, marking their attainment of the high-level pinnacle realm.

Among these 3,000 pinnacles, a thousand were high-level pinnacles, a feat made possible by Braydon’s transcendent-grade spirit pill.

With so many pinnacles entering the battlefield, the aboriginal martial artists faced an overwhelming onslaught from the onset of the conflict.

As war erupted, the aboriginal martial artists found themselves on the brink of collapse before the battle had truly begun.

Koku surveyed the chaos, incredulous.

“How is this possible? Where did they find so many pinnacle martial artists?” he despaired.

“Young City Lord, they must have brought more than 3,000 pinnacles,” the guard commander beside Koku remarked fearfully.

The sheer number of pinnacle martial artists posed a threat capable of laying waste to Machusa unless faced with the formidable might of Haider Msiza, the city lord, and his quasi-emperor realm strength.

At that moment, a cry of alarm interrupted their deliberations.

“Young City Lord, the city gate behind us is under attack, and there are more assailants there!” an aborigine shouted in terror.

“What?”

Koku exclaimed in disbelief.

The Northern Army had split into two groups, encircling Machusa with the intent to annihilate all within its walls and leave no avenue for escape.

Amidst Koku’s contemplation, Laird, the Fourth Master of the Northern Army, led his troops in breaching the city gate, encountering scant resistance from the fewer than 10,000 aboriginal soldiers stationed there.

In mere moments, Machusa fell, rendering the battle on the battlefield meaningless.

It dawned on Koku why his father had advised surrender – victory was an impossibility without a quasi-emperor realm expert to defend them.