The Strongest War God

Chapter 1956: Every Family has Their Own Record Chapter 1956: Every Family has Their Own Record Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation Moreover, they had gradually built a powerful family and established a social circle.  In another three to five hundred years, they might truly become an aristocratic family.  By then, the number of disciples in each family would likely be in the tens of thousands, with even more reckless sons.

“Commander!” All the commanders entered the bright hall and bowed.

“Take a seat,” Braydon Neal said, not even looking up as he flipped through ancient books.  The air was still.

All the commanders held their breath, sitting quietly, not daring to speak.  They waited.

Ten hours passed.  It was already two in the morning.  No one complained, as Second Master had warned them beforehand that this wouldn’t be easy.

When Braydon finished reading, he slowly stood up and looked at the group.  Everyone’s faces were solemn as they gazed back.

“Commander, why have you summoned us?” Tanner Lynn, now a regimental commander, asked.

Without a word, Braydon tossed a book in his direction.  The cover bore a single character: “Lynn,” representing the Lynn family.

Curious, Tanner flipped it open.  His expression immediately darkened, and he couldn’t stop himself from turning to the next page.  His face went pale, and he stood up abruptly, filled with fury.

Bang!  The chair shattered into dust.

Consumed by rage, he looked at Braydon, voice hoarse.

“Commander, I will handle this personally.

I would die to atone.” “What happened?” Maddox Johnstone asked, alarmed.

Tanner clenched his fists.

“The Lynn family has disgraced the name of the Northern Army.” The Lynn family had lasted seven generations, with more than 300 members.  All their sins were laid bare in that book.  It was just like the misdeeds of powerful families in the past.

“Commander, I’ll take care of them myself!” Tanner’s eyes were red with anger.  He wanted to annihilate his family.

Some called him ruthless, heartless, a beast.  But who could understand Tanner’s torment?  He had joined the Northern Army in his youth, rising to become the first regimental commander of the Northern Army’s first legion.  He was once the leader of the regimental commanders.

He had devoted himself to the Northern Army, fought in countless battles, and suffered numerous injuries.  He had once ridden his horse to his family’s gate, swearing to crush the aristocratic families, the source of the nation’s suffering.

Later, the Northern Army did just that.  They suppressed the powerful families, who dared not challenge them.

But now?  His family had become one of those aristocratic families.  They were aristocrats, committing the same evils as the families they had once opposed.

At this moment, Tanner’s faith was shattered, and he was in unbearable pain.  Who could understand what he was going through?

“Take a look,” Braydon said, raising his hand and distributing hundreds of books to the commanders.  Almost everyone received a book.  The covers bore their surnames.

Maddox, initially curious, quickly grew alarmed.  The more he read, the more enraged he became, until he stood up, drawing his sword, his body radiating murderous intent.  “These beasts dare commit such evil!

How can I let them live?” “Since my family has fallen so low, then… they must be destroyed!” another commander declared, rising to leave.

The deeds recorded in the books were shocking: murder, robbery, rape.  In the Northern Army, these crimes would be punished by death.  Some even conspired to seize land and declare themselves kings—something not even the sons of the Northern Army dared to do.

Yet these bastards did?

Hundreds of books documented hundreds of thousands of vile acts.  This was the nobility of the Northern Army—generations of accumulated filth over the past century.

A hundred years ago, the Northern Army Cavalry had been known throughout the world, even respected by their enemies.  Braydon’s name was revered.  But now?  The name of the Northern Army was tarnished, and the regimental commanders were furious.

They had fought and bled for the Northern Army’s glory, and now these bastards had tainted it.  Every commander present had once clawed their way out of death’s grip, having made great military achievements.  They were ruthless men with terrifying killing intent.

Now they understood why Braydon had summoned them.  This was something they had to handle themselves.

The commanders left, their bodies radiating killing intent as they stepped outside, enveloping all of Preston.

In Preston, a universe cultivator sensed the aura and was shocked.  “This aura… it’s peak-level!” “What could have angered those at peak level?

And there’s more than one,” remarked other universe cultivators in disbelief.

In the Neal family manor, Luther Carden stood calmly on the lawn with his hands behind his back.  “Though many have erred, some have contributed to the nation.

Don’t act rashly and slaughter the innocent.

Discern right from wrong before making your decision.” Second Master of the Northern Army’s words were like cold water, cooling the commanders’ fury just enough.  Many were prepared to kill all their family’s descendants to cleanse the disgrace.

If they didn’t, they felt they would betray their brothers who had died in battle.  Hundreds of thousands of their brothers were buried at the foot of Mount Bliz, still watching over them.

The glory they had sworn to defend was being destroyed by spoiled playboys.  If they didn’t kill them, they would be betraying their fallen comrades.

Braydon stood before the hall, looking at Luther.

“We don’t have a choice.

If we act now, some of the children may still live.

But if we wait another hundred years, after three generations, the rot will spread, and there will be no hope.

We’ll be leaving the mess to future generations, just like how we dealt with the aristocrats of the past.

There will be no choice but to destroy them.” Braydon saw it all clearly.  Some commanders’ families had their share of profligate sons, but as long as the roots weren’t rotten, the damage could be contained.

But once the roots rotted, everything a family did would be for its own benefit, even seeking to divide the land and become kings.  Such a family was beyond hope.

They could only be wiped out.

They had brought it upon themselves.  Even the gods couldn’t save them.

Outside the Neal family manor, disciples from various families had gathered to meet their family protectors.

Little did they know, those same protectors were already marching toward them, weapons in hand.

Maddox was the first to arrive.  “Grandfather, I’m Abel Johnstone, your eldest grandson!” One person piped up.