The Strongest War God

Chapter 1299: The Qilin Black Flag Has Arrived

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Since Braydon Neal ascended to the emperor realm, the banished immortal appeared to have undergone a profound transformation.

Previously, during Braydon’s quasi-emperor days, this banished immortal hadn’t hesitated to relinquish his spirituality to aid in Rayha Qhobela’s demise.

Subsequently, Braydon nurtured the banished immortal back to health, facilitating his recovery.

Now, this rejuvenated banished immortal, having entered the emperor realm alongside Braydon, stood guard at the culmination of the martial arts imperial path.

Singularly, he suppressed Braydon’s most formidable martial arts imperial path while commanding mastery over 30,000 worldly techniques.

The transformation in the banished immortal youth was undeniable.

To be precise, he resembled more of a true immortal capable of using the 30,000 techniques of the human world.

Moments later, thunder dragons descended from the somber skies, their massive forms resembling vast buckets encircled by silver lightning.

Hundreds of these majestic creatures descended, their lightning untouched by any living thing.

Swirling around the banished immortal youth, they then merged with him, their roars blending into his being.

A thousand-meter-long thunder dragon condensed into a mere speck of light upon the banished immortal’s forefinger—an embodiment of extreme thunder power.

How many years had passed since the inception of banished immortals?

How lofty was its realm?

He had cultivated an unprecedented form of power—the extreme thunder.

Even Braydon found himself taken aback, turning to gaze upon the banished immortal atop the mental imperial path.

Here stood his other self, flawlessly inheriting the talents of his original form.

What added to the terror was the seamless inheritance of Braydon’s talent by the banished immortal youth, whose physique appeared even more immaculate.

Devoid of a primary body, unencumbered by worldly concerns, and free from any vulnerabilities, he epitomized a flawless manifestation of Braydon—born for the path, existing solely for the art, a pure embodiment of a banished immortal.

“What?” Fela Yengo’s voice trembled with fear, his words raspy. “Extreme thunder power! Extreme path!”

Only emperors of monstrous talent could grasp the ultimate power, earning them the title of extreme path emperor.

This ultimate power, coveted even by divine-level individuals, transcended mere cultivation techniques, capable of tempering one’s very being.

The benefits it bestowed were beyond the comprehension of outsiders.

The thunder emanating from the banished immortal’s fingertips represented the peak of thunder power.

With a swift motion, he pointed his finger, causing a black dot to materialize in the air.

This ultimate power pierced through the fabric of space itself.

Fela recoiled in terror, feeling a chill race down his spine as he beheld the thunder strike that landed before him.

The potency of extreme thunder was undeniable.

“Ahh!” Fela’s agonized scream reverberated as he was enveloped by the thunder’s touch.

His body became shrouded in a faint silver aura, his garments reduced to ash, his flesh turned to foam, and his bones charred black.

In an instant, a ninth-level emperor met his demise.

The capability of the ultimate power to inflict harm upon an emperor underscored the sheer difficulty in confronting such a force.

Unperturbed, the banished immortal youth remained composed amidst the presence of numerous thunder dragons.

Meanwhile, the purple-robed middle-aged man, gripped by terror, turned on his heels, desperate to flee.

There was no longer any need to prolong the battle—if he lingered, death would be inevitable.

The banished immortal youth strode upon the golden path, a commanding presence.

With a simple gesture, he conjured hundreds of thunder dragons within his palm, coalescing them into a formidable ball of extreme thunder power.

Thunder, the harbinger of destruction, surged forth as a sphere of purple strike shot out.

The eight investigators were instantly engulfed, buried on the spot without a chance of survival—all perished under its relentless fury.

The twelve civil officials met a similar fate, transformed into a crimson mist of blood, utilizing Blood Escape to flee thousands of miles away.

Survival instincts kicked in without hesitation—for in this moment, hesitation meant certain death.

Emperors were no strangers to bloodshed; each bore the stain of their past deeds.

Though Braydon could contend with all the emperors, it was clear that holding everyone here was an impossible feat.

If an emperor was resolved to depart, unless one’s cultivation vastly surpassed theirs, there was no way to stop their escape.

Within the Zunde Royal Dynasty, Lord Fela fell, while the core members of the upper echelons either perished or fled.

Braydon’s triumph in this battle resulted in the capture of all high-ranking officials of the Zunde Royal Dynasty, plunging the entire realm into a state of impending collapse.

Meanwhile, on the distant grasslands beyond the Zunde Royal Dynasty, a plume of smoke gradually emerged, billowing for miles on end.

At its forefront flew the black Qilin flag—the insignia of the Northern Army.

The Qilin Black Flag marked the arrival of a million-strong cavalry, clad in obsidian armor, their presence looming large on the horizon.

Joining them in the skies above were the Silver-Winged Snow Eagles, their vast wingspan casting shadows over the land—the herald of the Sanguine Army’s arrival.

Accompanying them was the Gray Wolf Army, a formidable force in its own right, completing the ensemble.

Braydon, towering above Zunde Royal City, observed the approaching figures with an air of familiarity, his hands clasped behind his back, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

It was the million-strong force under his command—a testament to the Northern Army’s formidable might.

Over the span of a few years, the Northern Army had undergone significant transformations.

Many of the soldiers within the ranks of the Northern Army had accompanied Braydon since his youth.

Comrades in arms, they had marched alongside their commander into countless battlefields, witnessing his growth and evolution.

Among the three armies, the Northern Army stood as the vanguard, its leaders such as Cole Colbie taking charge at the forefront, exuding their imperial pressure.

“The Northern Army has come to welcome the king of the Northern Army home!” Cole’s booming voice reverberated like thunder through the wilderness.

At the base of Zunde Royal City, a million armored elites congregated at the city gates, their blades pointed toward the Zunde Royal Dynasty.

As the soldiers of the Northern Army dismounted, a sense of solemnity filled the air.

Clad in black scarves, they drew their swords in unison.

With a swift motion, a soldier drove his sword into the earth, kneeling on one knee, head bowed low.

“The Northern Army greets the commander,” he intoned solemnly, his voice carrying across the clouds.

It was a symbolic gesture—the Northern Army was welcoming back their king.

After two years, the Northern Army had not only gained the ability but also the confidence to herald the return of their king.

As long as Braydon drew breath, the soldiers of the Northern Army would remain steadfast in their allegiance.

The elite forces of the Gray Wolf Army and Sanguine Army, consisting of sixteen legions, echoed the sentiment.

“Greetings, Northern King!” they proclaimed in unison, paying homage to their leader.

Thus, the three armies united in welcoming their king.

“Guard the Zunde Royal Dynasty,” Braydon murmured softly, his words carrying a weight of responsibility.

With Fela’s demise and the Zunde Royal Dynasty’s leadership decimated, the fate of the Zunde Royal Dynasty hung in the balance.

It was a tumultuous moment, lacking a clear leader to guide them.

The Northern Army effortlessly assumed control of the area, their presence unchallenged.

Accompanying them were not just the commanders of the Gray Wolf and Big Dipper, but also the core higher-ups of Northern Army—all gathered here for this pivotal occasion.

“Brother!” Cora Yanagi, adorned in a phoenix robe, greeted Braydon with a radiant smile, her demeanor akin to that of an obedient younger sister.

The bald monk Lester Crawford approached alongside the little fool.

“Brother, I’ve missed you terribly!” exclaimed Luke Yates, embracing Braydon in a tight hug reminiscent of an octopus’s grasp.

“Seems like you missed me the most out of everyone here,” Braydon chuckled, knowing full well Luke’s tendency to exaggerate.

“I missed you the most!” Luke insisted with a grin, though his claim was met with skeptical glances from those around him.

During Braydon’s absence, Luke had run wild, reigning over a major aboriginal city like a local despot.

With Braydon’s return, however, his days of unbridled freedom were numbered.

No longer could he act with impunity, especially with Braydon’s watchful eye upon him.

“Lester, where’s Luther?” Braydon inquired, casting a glance toward the small monk.

Lester rolled his eyes. “Luther is holding down the fort. Someone has to oversee the bigger picture—you can’t just swoop in like a swarm of bees!”

Upon learning of Braydon’s return, the Northern Army wasted no time, immediately launching a full-scale offensive.