The Strongest War God

Chapter 1443: The Hidden Secret

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Malachi Zadroga nearly choked on his own blood, his expression darkening. “Brother, I’ve already crippled you. Why persist in this stubbornness?”

Braydon Neal’s countenance remained impassive as he raised his left hand, summoning eight imperial paths before him—or more accurately, eight chains of order.

These chains evolved into a new power, their permutations exceeding 10,000 in an instant, boosting Braydon’s aura by a staggering 10,000-fold.

The onlookers gasped in astonishment.

“That’s incredible!” Lyndal Cadogan remarked cautiously. “The amplification of combat strength surpasses 10,000 times!”

But this was merely the beginning.

As the eight chains of order transformed into 40,000 variations, Braydon wielded the Yin-Yang Eight Trigrams in his right hand—a symbol of profound divination.

With 1024 hexagrams amplifying his battle strength by 10,000-fold, Braydon’s total enhancement surged past 20,000 times.

Unfazed, Braydon ventured into the time domain, his demeanor unyielding in the face of its formidable pressure.

Malachi, however, paled beneath the weight of this overwhelming force.

Yet, unwilling to concede defeat, he gritted his teeth and braced for Braydon’s assault.

Dodging would equate to surrender—an option he refused to entertain.

It seemed as though he were conceding victory to a mere divine realm youth.

As a renowned genius, how could he possibly accept defeat?

Such a notion was inconceivable to him.

Clutching the spear with both hands, Malachi charged boldly into the fray.

The spear’s tip met Braydon’s fist with a resounding clash, resulting in the spear bowing under the force.

Undeterred, Braydon’s gaze remained icy as he wielded the Yin-Yang Eight Trigrams in his right hand.

With a swift motion, he struck out at Malachi, effortlessly shattering the spear with a single chop, severing Malachi’s left shoulder in the process.

Malachi’s agonizing scream pierced the air, his complexion draining of color as he summoned a black soul token—a last resort to preserve his life.

Though Braydon could have swiftly ended the confrontation, he remained unrushed, allowing the Hall of Souls’ artifact spirit to intervene at its own pace.

Having experienced the swiftness of teleportation firsthand, Braydon did not hasten to pursue Malachi.

Despite being defeated and losing his soul token, Malachi managed to escape with his life, leaving the onlookers in stunned silence.

The defeat of Malachi, the second strongest expert in the frost world, reverberated throughout the area.

Over the years, Malachi had relied on his status as a rogue cultivator to assert dominance over peers from various major factions, even receiving numerous offers of allegiance.

However, he remained steadfast in his rogue status—a decision that ultimately led to his downfall.

Even if he stumbled upon a stroke of luck in the Spirit Sea, the esteemed King Braydon had never relied on chance encounters since his youth.

With no interruptions in sight, Braydon clasped his hands behind his back and gazed upward into the sky, his voice soft as he reflected, “I should have reached a decision sooner after prolonging it for so long. Ever since Heather bore Trevon and Judith, the resolve I once possessed has gradually eroded.

“As a martial artist, one must possess 70% determination and 30% killing intent to excel in the martial arts,” he continued, his eyes shutting momentarily.

Upon reopening them, Braydon had resolved himself.

The bloodline of the Neal family would be drained, and the twelve wings broken.

In that pivotal moment, the artifact spirit within the Star Tower interjected, “Braydon, utilize your split-origin to create banished immortals. Await the future, whereupon success will see you return with your tribulation body, transcending to a level that will astound the cosmos.”

“Split-origin banished immortal and tribulation body?” Braydon furrowed his brow, unfamiliar with the terminologies the artifact spirit employed.

Despite the hesitation, the artifact spirit spoke in hushed tones, “I dare not divulge further about this forbidden knowledge. Such revelations would incur the wrath of the celestial order, reducing me to ashes.”

“A forbidden technique? A tribulation body?” Braydon pondered, sensing a clandestine aspect of his existence even he hadn’t fully comprehended.

A monumental revelation!

“Origin path technique, hundred tribulations…” the artifact spirit murmured under its breath.

“Hundred tribulations what?” Braydon inquired, his curiosity piqued.

The artifact spirit remained tight-lipped, refusing to divulge any further details.

Yet, Braydon could surmise that the technique he practiced diverged from the Origin Separation Technique—it was, in fact, the enigmatic hundred tribulations forbidden technique alluded to by the artifact spirit. @@novelbin@@

Resigned to the artifact spirit’s silence, Braydon ceased his questioning.

In the ensuing moments, the twelve snow-white wings adorning Braydon’s back stiffened, seemingly imbued with vitality.

Even his dual-pupils underwent a turbid transformation as he endeavored to expel the two bloodlines from his body.

With bystanders present, none dared to lay a hand on Braydon—not even Lyndal of the Elysium.

All eyes remained fixed on the unfolding spectacle.

An hour elapsed.

The first pair of snow-white wings detached from Braydon’s back, the process wrought with excruciating pain surpassing that of any banished immortal’s formation.

Despite his pallid complexion, Braydon’s steely resolve remained unshaken.

Once he committed to a decision, he held fast to it.

As the second snow-white wing followed suit, Braydon’s determination remained resolute.

The third followed suit, its transformation culminating in a luminous white glow, as if poised to assume human form.

Yet, before the twelve wings could fully detach, Braydon swiftly suppressed the burgeoning banished immortal.

He wouldn’t allow its premature emergence.

Simultaneously, Braydon’s own eyes began to fade into obscurity.

Two ethereal figures materialized behind him, their auras starkly contrasting.

The indistinct silhouette of the Foreman family banished immortal bore the semblance of a celestial being untouched by mortal affairs, while the Neal family banished immortal exuded the commanding presence of a terrestrial sovereign.

This marked the culmination of Braydon’s efforts to expel the two distinct bloodlines from his body.

With the twelve wings now severed and the ten-eyed dual-pupils vanished, Braydon appeared garbed in a resplendent snow-white robe, reminiscent of his seventeen-year-old self—a veritable King Braydon.

Standing behind him, the form of a feathered being had fully materialized—an embodiment of the Foreman family banished immortal.

This young Northern King, enshrouded in ethereal radiance, was bedecked in pristine white feathers and bore twelve majestic wings upon his back.

Unfurling his wings, he caused the surrounding space to fracture, each fissure stretching tens of thousands of miles—a gaping maw akin to that of a ravenous beast.