The Strongest War God

Chapter 1421: An Extraordinary Player
Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

“I came to rescue you, yet you set a trap for me. If I were a rogue cultivator, I wouldn’t hesitate. Even in the heart of the Foreman family home, I will end you,” Braydon Neal declared, his voice steady but his gaze piercing.

To him, enemies knew no gender—those who fell beneath the Northern King’s blade included women.

Eva Foreman gritted her teeth, grasping the kind of person Braydon was.

Attempting to diffuse the tension, Galliard Foreman interjected, “Alright, you two have just met. What deep-seated grudges could you possibly harbor? And Braydon, you’re being rather harsh. Eva is your prospective wife. How can you be so ruthless?”

Braydon’s expression darkened at the absurdity of the statement.

Since when did Eva become his intended spouse?

It was preposterous.

“Galliard and I have reached an understanding. If you can cure Eva, you can marry her,” Kohen Neal interjected, coughing.

“No!” Eva and Braydon objected simultaneously.

The elders from both families were taken aback.

Why were the two youngsters against the proposal?

“You still have much time to acquaint yourselves,” Galliard advised gently.

“You may not know this, but I’m already married. My wife’s name is Heather Sage, and we have a son and daughter,” Braydon declared, unwilling to conceal his marital status.

He frowned and continued, “If the Neal and Foreman families seek a matrimonial alliance, the Neal family boasts numerous eligible individuals. Don’t waste your efforts on me.”

“Braydon!” Remington Neal hesitated.

“I entered the Spirit Sea for martial arts. I’m not interested in ordinary women,” Braydon replied, his tone indifferent.

“Who are you calling ordinary?!” Eva retorted.

“In my opinion, you don’t hold a candle to Sadie, let alone Heather!” Braydon’s blunt nature had made him a notorious figure in the northern region from a young age.

Even Martial Emperor Yanagi and Old Devil Yanagi had found him a challenge.

It was a wonder how he would ever find a suitable wife with such a personality.

Yet, Braydon had defied expectations, marrying and even starting a family.

Sometimes, Martial Emperor Yanagi would lament the trouble the old Neal family faced with Braydon’s straightforwardness.

Gritting her teeth in frustration, Eva seethed with anger.

She had never encountered such a stubborn man as Braydon.

Kohen fell silent, and Remington felt despondent.

They shared a glance, both realizing that this marriage was doomed.

Braydon had made his stance clear.

If the union were to succeed, it would be a miracle.

Meanwhile, elders from various factions harbored heavy hearts.

The emergence of Braydon, this enigmatic prodigy, struck fear into their hearts.

What kind of mystical technique had he cultivated?

With the Origin Separation Technique, he could bear so many banished immortals.

Yet, many knew that the technique could only be employed three times in a lifetime.

This was his limit; exceeding three times would result in his soul’s collapse.

Yet, how many banished immortals did Braydon have?

A martial arts banished immortal, an ancient martial arts banished immortal, a green lotus banished immortal, a death banished immortal, and a primordial chaos banished immortal—five in total.

Despite this, Braydon seemed unaffected.

However, many seemed to misunderstand.

When the artifact spirit of the Star Tower witnessed Braydon’s banished immortals, it identified it as the Origin Separation Technique.

Yet, prior to this, Braydon had never delved into any origin techniques; he was entirely charting his own path.

The birth of banished immortals hinged on the eight pinnacle techniques, amalgamating into one to form a banished immortal.

Since then, Braydon had spiraled out of control, with several banished immortals taking shape within his body.

Clearly, this wasn’t the Origin Separation Technique; at most, it bore a resemblance.

“Your Highness, are you willing to enter the Hall of Souls?” Beckham Jovel, Soul Slave No.1, stepped forward, offering his respectful greetings.

“What is the Hall of Souls?” Braydon inquired.

Naturally, he desired entry into the Hall of Souls.

How else could he seek vengeance for past grievances?

Thirteen’s remnant soul had melded with Braydon when he was merely three years old; the two were one and the same.

However, Braydon’s formidable bloodline suppressed Thirteen’s remnant soul, leaving him unaffected.

It was only recently that he began to slowly accept these memories, inheriting some of the lingering resentment.

“The Hall of Souls comprises 9,999 floors, with each floor representing a separate world,” Issac Irwin explained.

“9,999 levels, 9,999 worlds?” Braydon exclaimed, taken aback by the revelation.

What kind of treasure could boast such vastness?

With only 3,000 ruins existing outside the Spirit Sea, the Hall of Souls far surpassed them in scale.

It was no wonder it was hailed as one of the most enigmatic and formidable factions in the Spirit Sea—the sheer magnitude of its foundation was staggering.

“There’s a unique item in each world,” Carlisle Jaynes explained softly. “While the quality varies, each one is a treasure capable of astounding the Spirit Sea and greatly aiding cultivators.”

“For instance, Soul Slave No.8 of the Hall of Souls obtained a minor treasure in one of the levels. Overnight, he ascended from the saint realm to the holy master realm, becoming a legend in the Spirit Sea,” Carlisle recounted, sharing tales from the Hall of Souls.

“In that case, how did you become soul slaves?” Braydon inquired, furrowing his brow.

“After entering the Hall of Souls, one receives a black wooden token,” Carlisle explained. “With it, one can choose to explore the various levels within the world. While treasures abound, so do dangers. Should one encounter a life-threatening situation, shattering the token allows for instant teleportation out of the area.”

Carlisle sighed.

Crushing the token, however, came with a price—the forfeiture of one’s freedom to become a soul slave.

Braydon had already surmised as much.

The worlds within the Hall of Souls undoubtedly harbored perilous trials; those unable to overcome them would resort to token-crushing for survival.

Yet, this act meant surrendering their freedom to servitude.

“Even so, countless individuals enter the Hall of Souls annually,” Carlisle continued, “Some willingly choose to become soul slaves to procure treasures and support their families.”

The items acquired from the Hall of Souls were yours to dispose of as you pleased.

Whether you chose to gift them or sell them, the Hall of Souls remained indifferent.

After all, they understood that not every treasure obtained would be suitable for the one who acquired it.

It would be wasteful to hoard items that served no purpose or drained resources.

“Once you become a soul slave, you may miss out on the most exceptional treasures within the Hall of Souls’ levels and worlds,” Carlisle explained. “Aside from the prime items, the rest are acquired through a combination of strength and luck.”

Braydon began to grasp the Hall of Souls’ essence.

Contrary to its fearsome reputation, it welcomed cultivators of all kinds to explore its depths.

If one had the capability, they were free to seize whatever lay within its confines without reproach.

However, Kohen interjected with a concerned reminder. “Braydon, the prerequisite for entering the Hall of Souls is the saint realm. You’re not yet at that level. There’s no need to rush; you can always enter in the future.”

“Not necessarily,” Beckham interjected, dropping a bombshell. “Don’t you know that significant figures from the cosmos are en route on a starship? They’re slated to arrive in the Spirit Sea within four years, at the latest.”