The Strongest War God

Chapter 1953: The Honorable Officials of Preston Chapter 1953: The Honorable Officials of Preston Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation “You’re quite arrogant,” Braydon Neal chuckled.

What he wanted was the territory of the four races, a resource capable of nurturing peak cultivators.  How could such a thing be found here?

The shop assistant’s face grew serious.

“Sir, this shop is one of the best in Preston.

If we don’t have what you’re looking for, it’ll be hard to find it anywhere in the city.” “How much for this Vermilion Fruit?” Braydon stepped forward.

The waiter pointed at the label.

“A fifty-year-old Vermilion Fruit—100,000 spirit stones per fruit.

If you buy in bulk, there’s a discount.” “That’s too expensive.” Braydon frowned slightly.  The price was far from reasonable.  In the universe, a spirit fruit of this level would cost at most one or two thousand spirit stones.  After all, spirit herbs and fruits aged by decades were commonplace in the universe, especially on powerful life planets where they were abundant.

Earth was connected to the universe, so the prices for cultivator necessities should align with the universe’s rates, even with fluctuations.  But this price was absurd.  A fifty-year-old Vermilion Fruit for 100,000 spirit stones?

It was daylight robbery.

The shop assistant’s face hardened.

“Don’t talk nonsense.

Our shop is known for fair prices in Preston.

Buy it if you want, or leave.” “Really?” Braydon thought, surprised that a shop with such an attitude was still open.

He turned to Trevon Neal and asked calmly, “Are all the spirit herbs in Preston priced like this?” “Let me check.” Trevon spread his thoughts across the entire city.  The voices of tens of thousands of people filled his mind, information flooding in from every corner of Preston.

After a few breaths, Trevon’s face darkened.

“Yes, almost everywhere.” “Alright,” Braydon said, leaving the shop.

Heather Sage, with her daughter in tow, ignored the matter.  Only Trevon understood—his father was angry.  The Azure Dragon Shop was clearly part of a larger problem.  It wasn’t just about one shop; it reflected the state of the entire city.  Preston was overrun with black markets.  Who was behind all this?

“I’ll buy the Vermilion Fruit,” Braydon said indifferently as he walked out, not bothering to put the fruit back.

Trevon tossed a spirit crystal to the shop assistant and followed his father.  The family continued with their day, undisturbed.

Heather spoke gently, “All beings are different.

Where there’s light, there’s also darkness.

You can’t control everything.” “You may control the universe’s origin, overseeing the rise and fall of races, but I can’t do that,” Braydon replied, stopping in his tracks.  He exhaled, “I was born in Preston.

Even if the outside world falls apart, I want the righteousness here to last forever.” “Father, I’ll handle this at once,” Trevon offered.

Braydon shook his head.

“Do you think that’s the only issue in Preston?

Let’s take a closer look.” He wasn’t in a rush, but Trevon knew his father well.  This calm was merely the prelude to a storm.  Blood would likely be spilled today.

Ahead, a commotion broke out.  A young man in luxurious clothing, reeking of alcohol, led dozens of servants who were mercilessly beating an elderly man in rags.  The young man cursed continuously, “You blind old fool!

How dare you bump into me?

Beat him to death!” The surrounding crowd barely paid attention.  Most were cultivators, long indifferent to such scenes.  The ruthless nature of cultivators had shaped the present state of affairs.

“Stop!” A green-robed Daoist stepped forward from the crowd.

“Which family are you from?” “Mind your own business, you stinking Daoist!” retorted the young man, a black jade pendant hanging from his waist.  The pendant bore the word “Johnstone.” Preston.

The Johnstone family.

The surrounding cultivators instantly recognized the pendant.  The Daoist’s face fell.

He dared not interfere.

At that moment, a pair of black-armored youths swiftly arrived on the scene, cutting through the crowd.

“Stop!” The captain drew his sword, his murderous intent palpable.

“Cease!” “The Preston Team?” “Keep fighting!” The young man barked arrogantly at his servants.

“Don’t stop!” “This kid’s arrogance knows no bounds.

He doesn’t even fear the Preston Team,” someone in the crowd murmured.

“Didn’t you see the pendant?

Few people in the Johnstone family are to be trifled with.” “I heard the Johnstone family produced a big shot—a powerful figure from the northern desert.” “I’ve heard the same…” The crowd whispered.

“Dorlan Johnstone, don’t go too far,” the black-armored captain warned.

“If this escalates, even your father won’t be able to protect you.” “Captain Sacco, what do you mean?

We’re family, after all.

Don’t you remember the family rules?” The young man brazenly flashed the black sword at his waist.

“Anyone bearing the Northern Army Sword is a comrade.

Family rules state a comrade’s sword cannot be drawn against another.” Captain Parker Sacco clenched his fists.  He had no counterargument.

The servants continued their assault on the old man.  However, Dorlan, the young man of luxury, regained some clarity as the effects of alcohol began to wear off.

“Alright, that’s enough.

Stop.

I have other matters to attend to.” The scene was chaotic.  The elderly man lay on the ground, barely breathing.  He had no cultivation ability.  Despite the rich spiritual energy on Earth, ordinary people like him had not learned to cultivate.

They remained mortals.

Braydon observed everything with a chilling gaze.  His aura was suffocatingly cold.  No one around dared to speak.  Even the lively Judith Neal stood quietly behind her mother.  Trevon was drenched in sweat.  He rarely saw his father this angry, but whenever he did, bloodshed was inevitable.

Braydon stepped out of the crowd, smiling coolly.

“Such admirable family rules.

What an esteemed Johnstone family.

And what a ‘great figure’ from the northern desert.

Tell me, who’s your ancestor?” His words dripped with killing intent.

“Who do you think you are to ask about my grandfather?” Dorlan sneered, eyes full of contempt.

“Impudent!” Trevon’s expression turned icy.  This rich young brat was courting disaster.

The black-armored captain, Parker, glanced over.  His eyes fell on Braydon before darting to Trevon.  His face turned deathly pale.  While he didn’t recognize Braydon, he knew exactly who Trevon was.  He nearly fell to his knees.

“I asked, what’s the name of the Johnstone family’s big shot from the northern desert?” Braydon asked calmly.

“Father, it’s Maddox Johnstone,” Trevon replied.  He was well-versed in Preston’s elite families.

For decades, the city’s nobility had made significant contributions to Preston, with each family producing influential figures.  Many had earned their reputations in the northern desert and served under Martial Emperor Neal, carving out legends across the universe.