The Strongest War God

Chapter 2005: Ascending to the Seventh Floor Chapter 2005: Ascending to the Seventh Floor Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation That man was only a level-three transcendent.  With shifty eyes, it was obvious he wasn’t a good person.  Under the gaze of the level-six transcendent, his face turned pale, as if realizing something.  He turned and fled—he knew what he had done.

In the next moment, a cold snort echoed, “Trying to escape?” The level-six transcendent attacked instantly, forming a claw with his hand.  In a flash, the level-three transcendent was imprisoned.  With a single clench, the man’s body exploded, and his transcendent path was fully extracted, leaving only ashes in his hand—completely obliterated, with no sign of life left.

A green stone on his body was crushed with a crack, shattering the small world inside.

Swoosh!

Swoosh!

Swoosh!

A large number of transcendent experts were forced to appear—a total of 1,300, all low-level transcendents.  Terrified, they scattered in all directions.  They were the ones who couldn’t pay or refused to part with the gray stones, facing an outcome of utter obliteration.  The posthouse showed no mercy, whether they were carriers or stowaways—killing them all.

No one pitied him; they simply watched with cold detachment.

Braydon Neal was speechless.  How foolish these people were!  Did they think they could smuggle 1,300 people into the third universe undetected?  The posthouse wasn’t stupid.  With so many transcendent level experts vanishing all at once, it was obvious that someone would investigate in secret.  But given the potential reward, it made sense—ten thousand gray stones if they had no stowaways.  It was dozens of times cheaper, meaning they could earn 13 million gray stones in one go.

Indeed, such a fortune could tempt many low-level transcendents to take the risk.

The crafty snakehead would quietly gather low-level transcendents who wanted to reach the third universe outside the posthouse, slowly building enough numbers and choosing a reputable posthouse to pass through the teleportation array.  However, this method required time.  While it might take two hours to gather 1,000 people within the posthouse, it was essentially drawing blood from the station—courting death at this level, with a nine-in-ten chance of being caught and facing a tragic end.

However, Braydon noticed that some managed to survive.  Caught stowaways, if they wanted to live, would have to pay ten times the fine—a staggering nine million gray stones, to buy their lives.  Most here couldn’t afford such a price, but some low-level transcendents possessed treasures they could hand over to a level-six transcendent in exchange for their lives.

Faced with the choice of treasure or life, the answer was clear.

After everyone was gathered, the level-six transcendent activated the array without much more to say.  A circular formation enveloped Braydon and the others.  Swoosh!

In a blink, they found themselves at another posthouse’s teleportation array.

“Let’s go!” a level-five transcendent urged coldly.

“Move quickly, don’t block the way and interfere with the next group.” As Braydon looked around, he noticed nine teleportation platforms, each lighting up every five minutes, bringing people from various posthouses.  Clearly, this was a major posthouse.

Icarus Jacome, watching from inside Braydon’s small world, whispered, “Be careful.

This is the Daluo Spiritual Sect’s posthouse, likely a level-three posthouse.” “Level-three?” Braydon’s eyes lit up.  Posthouses were ranked, with level one the smallest and level nine the largest.  A level-three posthouse could accommodate millions of transcendents—not surprising given it was likely managed by a powerful faction.

In such a high-frequency teleportation setting, gray stone consumption would skyrocket, but earnings would match it.  High investment, high output—no doubt about it.

Braydon moved off the teleportation array into the bustling crowd.  The noise was nonstop, with people discussing that mysterious place and even recruiting teammates—it was incredibly lively.

“What do you need to heal your leg injury?” Braydon asked Icarus privately.

No one would want to bring an injured companion on a dangerous journey, and Braydon was no exception.  If things turned critical, a burden like Icarus might not survive.

Icarus sighed.

“I was wounded by astral winds; the power lingers in my legs.

Only a high-level transcendent can drive it out.” Braydon considered the cost of hiring such an expert—not cheap, and few would bother with minor figures like them.  Still, as he continued down the wide street, he saw a seven-story circular building in the distance: the Thousand Things Pavilion.

It was a long-established, highly regarded force outside the universe, respected by nearly all.

With stores everywhere, the Thousand Things Pavilion was known for buying and selling an array of items, and large posthouses usually housed one.  Braydon stepped inside.

“Welcome to the Thousand Things Pavilion, esteemed guest.

Here, you’ll experience the finest shopping.” Braydon nodded slightly, aware of the surprised and greedy gazes of passersby.  Everyone knew that items here were at least 30% pricier than those outside, so low-level transcendents usually avoided it—unless money wasn’t a concern.  But Braydon knew that the pavilion’s items were of premium quality, unlike those in small shops.

Inside, he saw others purchasing items.  A young man in purple looked around the first floor and scoffed, “Your pavilion is really slipping—these are just scraps trying to pass as quality.” “Sir, there are finer items on the second floor,” the attendant replied, not daring to talk back.

Items in the main hall were basic transcendent materials for low-level cultivation, while the second floor held pricier, mid-level items.

“Take me to the seventh floor,” Braydon instructed.

The room fell silent, every eye turning toward him in shock.  The seventh floor was reserved for only the pavilion’s most distinguished guests, and even level-nine transcendent experts rarely qualified to enter.

The attendant was stunned but quickly recovered and bowed.

“Sir, certain conditions are required to access the seventh floor…”