The Strongest War God

The one-year-old girl trembled in fear, tears streaming down her tiny face.

Meanwhile, the little boy remained composed, observing silently.

Heather Sage gently shook her head, acknowledging the imminent danger.

“A sovereign pinnacle is after me. You can’t stop him. Leave,” she urged, her voice tinged with urgency.

Isaiah Cooper was a sovereign pinnacle.

He stood firm in his resolve.

“Hand over those children, and I’ll grant Your Highness safe passage,” he stated with indifference.

“Is it the sects or the powerful families that threaten my children’s future?” Heather’s inquiry was soft but charged with significance.

Braydon Neal held unrivaled authority, yet his zenith had long been established.

None dared challenge him directly.

However, with the emergence of his legitimate heir, the balance of power teetered precariously.

The mere presence of Braydon sent tremors through the established order, hinting at a future upheaval.

In a world where factions hid in the shadows, biding their time, the birth of the Northern King’s son jolted them from their complacency.

The prospect of a successor inheriting Braydonwang’s legacy, ascending to the throne, and wielding supreme authority fueled anxiety among the nation’s power players.

Isaiah’s objective was clear: to whisk away the two children to safety, twenty miles distant from their current location.

As the drama unfolded, a middle-aged man emerged from Preston, bearing the surname Neal.

He was the eldest son of the second generation of the Neal family.

During the internal strife of the Neal family, his grandfather, Beckett Neal, arranged for him to leave Preston and head to the South Pole as an ordinary powerless person.

Even his youngest son was sent off to the northern desert in the turmoil!

The conflicts among the adults, the conspiracies, and the power struggles had ensnared the innocent seven-year-old Braydon.

This experience left a lasting impact on Braydon for several years.

As the middle-aged man, Louis Neal, gradually departed from Preston, his presence streaked across the sky like a shooting star before landing here.

Clad in a green robe, his imposing figure stood tall and mighty in the sky.

“Swordsman Isaiah Cooper, Elder of the Sotara Sword Sect,” Louis uttered as he gazed at him.

Startled and angered, Isaiah recoiled.

He sensed an immensely perilous aura emanating from Louis.

“An emperor,” he retorted indignantly. “Who… who are you?”

With a swift motion, Louis raised his hand, unleashing a potent sword intent akin to the force of the heavens.

The heavenly might cleaved through the entire highway, bisecting it effortlessly.

In one swift strike, he ended Isaiah’s life, leaving his lifeless body sprawled on the ground.

“Uncle Louis!” Heather greeted him with a soft smile.

“Dear child, though you’re yet to marry, Laura and I have always regarded you as our daughter. You’ve borne a son and a daughter for Braydon, yet he hasn’t honored you with a title. He owes you,” Louis remarked fondly.

Relaxing his aura, Louis approached to comfort the crying one-year-old girl.

She was Louis’s granddaughter, a fact that filled Heather’s eyes with tears.

To her, Louis was family.

It had been too long since Heather had seen her relatives in Preston, including Braydon.

“I’ll ask Liam to take you home,” Louis said.

“Where are you off to?” Heather inquired.

Louis’s eyes gleamed with resolve.

“The Sotara Sword Sect has wronged my daughter-in-law and attempted to take the lives of my granddaughter and grandson. They must pay. The Neal family doesn’t tolerate enemies.”

Louis, renowned for his exploits on South Pole Island, appeared determined to make his way to Sotara.

The fourth master of the Neal family, Liam Neal, had already arrived.

Surveying the chaos, he addressed his elder brother, “Louis!”

“Take Heather home, Liam. I’m heading to Sotara,” replied Louis, ready to charge ahead.

However, Liam intervened softly, “The Sotara Sword Sect has strong ties to Mount Sino. Why not let Winslow Jansky and the others handle it? It’ll take you days to reach Sotara, and Heather has just returned from the capital. I’m afraid she won’t be able to stay for long.”

With just a few words, Louis reconsidered his decision.

The founder of the Sotara Sword Sect was once a disciple cast aside by Mount Sino.

It was time to set things right.

Louis personally reached out to Mount Sino, briefing them on the situation.

In response, a thousand swordsmen descended from Mount Sino, led by Sect Leader Winslow Jansky, with Wilbur and Waylin Jansky in tow.

They swiftly eradicated the Sotara Sword Sect, extinguishing a force of 2,652 cultivators that had endured for seven centuries in a single day.

The ruthless efficiency of Mount Sino’s action sent shockwaves.

Braydon, the young master of Mount Sino, had been the target of the Sotara Sword Sect’s aggression.

They tried to kill his wife and children, leaving no doubt about Mount Sino’s resolve.

They would not keep these people alive.

Meanwhile, in the capital, Dominic Lowe received the news with a mixture of astonishment and rage.

“These fools are truly asking for their own demise,” he exclaimed furiously in the cabinet.

“Attacking the son of the Northern King… If the Northern King catches wind of this, he’ll mobilize the Northern Army to invade all 23 provinces. Regardless of the culprit, it’s likely the ancient martial arts sects and powerful families won’t escape annihilation!”

“The direct descendant of the Northern King, a connate pinnacle realm… It must have truly rattled them,” Zaiver Leach remarked solemnly.

A glint of killing intent flickered in Dominic’s eyes.

“Only a handful of us old timers know the route of Heather’s return to Preston. Aside from us, the central bureau is handling it.”

“Are you suggesting someone from the central bureau leaked the information?”

Zavier’s astonishment was palpable.

How else could outsiders have known Heather’s route to Preston?

The central bureau had been Dominic’s domain for decades.

If there was a breach, it meant trouble among his ranks.

Darkness clouded Dominic’s expression as he departed without a word.

He intended to personally investigate the matter, and whoever was found responsible would meet their end.

Among the Northern Army sons, status outweighed all else—family bonds and friendships held no sway.

The safety of Heather held significant implications for the capital’s relations with the Northern Army.

No longer would the Northern Army sons be treated lightly.

They wielded considerable influence in the capital and held sway even in the ruins.

An explanation was imperative.

Failure to provide one would invite personal inquiries from Luther Carden and the others, a scenario no member of the central bureau could survive.

The blade wielded by the men of the Northern Army was already drenched in blood; a few more drops wouldn’t incite fear.

Meanwhile, in the 16th ruin, Luther calmly perused a red-sealed urgent message.

His demeanor turned frosty as he absorbed its contents.

He spoke with icy indifference, as if addressing empty air. “In my name, I command that Dominic Lowe order the 5,000 pinnacles of the Northern Army to comply with my orders unconditionally.”

“Yes, sir!” affirmed a hidden agent messenger, swiftly dispatched to deliver the decree.

There was something unsettling about this message.

He was obviously commanding Dominic to obey his orders.

Any who understood the ruthless nature of the Northern Army would recognize this as a blatant threat.