The Strongest War God

Chapter 1993: Prosperous Populations Chapter 1993: Prosperous Populations Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation This must be a place of immense fortune to have produced so many proud sons of heaven.

Because of its fame, many cultivators were drawn here.  The human headquarters even instructed the Northern Stellar Realm to relocate a large number of life planets to this place.

In a flash, Braydon Neal entered the blue planet.

Stepping out, he flew toward the northern desert—the place that held his memories of youth.

Now, as far as the eye could see, the ground of the northern desert was green.  Green grass stretched endlessly, with countless cows and sheep dotting the grasslands.

No one was permitted to fly here; all had to walk.

This had once been the headquarters of the Northern Army.  The original leaders had built and maintained this place for decades.  It was the birthplace of the Northern Army, carrying a distinct chill.

Who would dare act rashly here?

The Northern Army Military Camp was a restricted zone, barring entry to outsiders.

Braydon arrived above and saw a vast stretch of black barracks, with horses galloping across the grasslands.  Among them was a middle-aged man dressed in black with one arm, tending the animals.

Suddenly, Braydon appeared, gazing at the mass of black horses.  He murmured, “These were the horses of the Northern Army, weren’t they?” “Commander…?” The one-armed man, herding livestock, froze as he saw the young man.

“Greetings, Commander!” His eyes reddened, and he cupped his fists with a black blade at his waist.

“Retired veteran Jascha Jarrett greets the Commander!” “Hmm?” In an instant, Braydon felt the presence of over 100,000 men dressed in black, many of whom were disabled, elderly, or young, quietly guarding the Northern Army camp.

At the base of Mount Bliz lay 200,000 solitary graves, each well-kept with offerings.  Not a single weed grew, proof that someone was always tending to this place.

Braydon looked at Jascha and softly asked, “All veterans injured in service have been properly settled by Luther, and the capital supports you in many ways.

So why have you all gathered here?” “When you led us to the Spirit Sea Ruins, and then fought races across the stars, the northern desert was left barren, and the brothers’ graves at the base of Mount Bliz grew over with weeds.

After hearing the news, we wanted to guard this place for you, Commander.” Finishing, Jascha knelt on one knee, hoarsely saying, “We are retired soldiers who gathered without orders.

Please punish us, Commander!” “What crime have you committed?” Braydon moved to the base of Mount Bliz and looked at the lonely graves with their names carved upon them.

In front of one of the tombs.

The tomb of Northern Army’s Sully Cage.

Once a soldier of the Northern Army.

Braydon gently brushed the tombstone, murmuring, “You have safeguarded this place for over ten thousand years in my stead.

How could you be guilty?

You have rendered great service!” “The world only knows that our Northern Army Cavalry is unmatched, that we are invincible wherever our cold swords point.” “But who knows that the Northern Army has hundreds of thousands of disabled veterans and twenty thousand lonely graves at Mount Bliz’s base?

Except for the Northern Army’s disciples, who would remember them?” “Does the world even remember their sacrifice?” His quiet words echoed in the air.

Silence fell.

100,000 seasoned soldiers silently arrived, standing behind him.

“Commander!” They bowed and spoke in unison.

“It’s been hard for all of you.” Braydon turned to them, asking softly, “Are you lonely, guarding this place?” “We are willing to follow the commander and fight against the myriad races!” These veterans had guarded this place for millennia.

Their cultivation was still strong.

Though their bodies were scarred, their limbs could regrow at this level of cultivation.

They kept their scars as a reminder of those years of fervor.

A reminder of the Northern Army.

“Lance!” Braydon turned and whispered.

“Commander!” The leader of the 3,000 imperial guards, Lance Ingle.

Braydon said quietly, “In the Northern Army, open a new legion—Legion Number 801.

I’ll oversee it.

Tell Luther to prioritize its resources.” “Understood!” Lance noted it.

Braydon would personally establish the 801st legion and rejoin the Northern Army.

These veterans had waited countless years.

Their commander had returned.

He had even rejoined the Northern Army.

With reddened eyes, they shouted in unison, “In this life, we join the Northern Army, follow the commander, and die without regrets!” Their words echoed in the sky.

Braydon ascended Mount Bliz, reaching its peak.

Memories of youth washed over him—the withered tree, the broken swing, the collapsed wooden house.

His youth had become a memory.

Braydon stayed another day.

When he left, Mount Bliz had been restored.  Trees stood tall, the swing gently swayed, and the wooden house was whole.  A flash of a figure passed by, like young Braydon and Sadie Dudley.

Braydon crossed thousands of miles, arriving at the bustling ancient capital.

Capital City!

It had expanded tenfold since then.

Crowds surged, filled with cultivators.

Braydon entered through the south gate, gazing at the broad street, once called Vermillion Bird Avenue.

Now, it was seven or eight times wider.

At the avenue’s end stood a vast mansion.

The Northern Army Imperial Residence.

Kept spotless each day, awaiting the Neal family’s return.  The Neal family would be welcomed here, receiving the honor of the Northern King.

Braydon arrived at the mansion’s entrance.

Eight black-clad youths guarded the door, forbidding outsiders from entering.

As Braydon stepped forward, they halted him.

“Who are you?” “An old friend.” Braydon smiled.

“State your name.” The youth in black frowned.

“Braydon Neal.” “Braydon Neal?” The youth frowned again.

“Your name isn’t in the Neal family genealogy, is it?” Over the years, many had come, pretending to be of Neal blood.

These young guards didn’t even recognize the name Braydon.

It had been too long.

Braydon sighed, stepping into the mansion.

The eight guards were outraged.

“Barging into the Imperial Residence is a punishable crime!” They pursued, shocked and angered.

Meanwhile, in the Northern King’s courtyard.

Seven or eight porcelain-skinned children played, laughing and running.

A beautiful girl followed, cautioning them, “Young Masters, slow down.

Don’t fall!” Braydon paused at the sight.

He could feel Neal blood flowing through these lively children.

One mischievous boy even activated nine-eyed dual pupils, startling the girl following him.

“Little one, the nine-eyed dual-pupils isn’t for pranks!” Braydon approached, picking him up.

“Who are you?” The child blinked, surprised his dual pupils didn’t work on this stranger.

Little did he know Braydon had the Reincarnation Eye.

Dual pupils couldn’t affect him.

Braydon was known as the most gifted genius in Neal family history.

His talent surpassed even the family’s founder.

“Put him down!” Eight youths arrived, alarmed.

But upon seeing Braydon with the young master, they hesitated.

“Why the alarm?

What’s happened?” A middle-aged man stepped out, frowning.