The Strongest War God

Chapter 1291: Birth of Jashon Hleza

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

It was as though he harbored no trace of anger whatsoever.

“Kid, you’re here,” croaked a voice from the depths of darkness.

“I’ve come to see you, Senior,” Braydon Neal replied calmly, stepping boldly into the shadowy realm where a chilling scene awaited him.

Before him stood a ghastly sight—a figure bound to a blackened cross, long hair hanging limply, body impaled by cruel black spikes piercing palms, shoulders, feet, and abdomen.

The person appeared on the verge of death, their tattered clothing testament to their suffering.

Braydon understood the resilience of one who had attained the divine realm—it wasn’t a simple matter to meet one’s end.

They could endure fasting, drawing sustenance from the spiritual energy of the heavens and earth to sustain their essence.

Hunger would plague them initially, yet with time, they would acclimate to the deprivation.

They would eventually adapt to it and feel nothing.

Unfazed, Braydon’s reaction to the grim spectacle was one of unsurprised composure.

“Considering your cultivation, Senior, breaking free shouldn’t pose much difficulty,” he remarked calmly.

“You overturned the entire Frost Prison and came here to mock me?”

The old monster, his tone tinged with menace, questioned Braydon’s purpose in venturing into the depths of his torment.

“I’ve come to offer you salvation, Senior,” Braydon asserted, eyeing the cruel spikes that bound the figure.

“Speak your terms,” the old monster demanded.

He refused to offer blood essence or bend to Braydon’s will evident.

A divine-level figure of his era, the old monster had never bowed to another and had endured the Frost Prison’s confines for untold years without submission.

If he wanted to make the old monster lower his head before him, he might as well kill him.

Hence, Braydon refrained from such demands, opting instead for a more pragmatic approach.

“I simply ask for your assistance in eliminating three individuals,” Braydon proposed softly.

“Sure. I’ll repay the favor once I’ve been freed,” the old monster acquiesced readily.

Having languished within the confines of the Frost Prison for an eternity, the old monster now glimpsed a glimmer of hope for escape, prompting his swift agreement.

“These three aren’t simple targets; they’re all divine-level characters,” Braydon murmured softly.

“If your foes could be easily killed, would you seek my aid?” the old monster responded astutely, his keen perception cutting through the surface.

Braydon appreciated dealing with intellects; the old monster embodied a cunning shrewdness honed over years of confinement.

Braydon stepped forward and extracted a long black nail, eliciting a faint yet unmistakably fierce aura from the captive.

Despite the passage of time, the lingering scent of blood clung to the old monster, a testament to his tumultuous past.

Yet Braydon harbored no interest in the intricacies of the old monster’s history; his objectives were clear—to release him and sow discord between the Oracle Palace and the Donta Imperial Dynasty.

With seven long nails imprisoning the old monster, the extraction of a crucial nail from his abdomen signified the unlocking of his suppressed cultivation.

As Braydon completed the task, the arrival of an envoy from the Donta Imperial Dynasty heralded the presence of Imperial Lord Kyan Yengo, drawn by concerns over the events unfolding within the Frost Prison.

As Kyan descended upon the scene, a palpable wave of divine pressure emanated from the eighteenth level, signaling the liberation of a towering figure from his shackles.

The world itself seemed to shift in response, bathed in an eerie hue as an overwhelming surge of mental power washed over the area like an unstoppable tide.

The old monster, disheveled and covered in grime, steadily absorbed the mental power, rejuvenating his weary body.

With each passing moment, his vitality surged, and his mental power grew more formidable.

“Jashon Hleza!” bellowed Kyan, clad in imperial robes, his voice echoing with fury.

Former divine son, Jashon Hleza, was a figure from the same generation as Rayha Qhobela.

He stood as a formidable presence within the Frost Prison.

And now, thanks to Braydon’s intervention, he was free.

Braydon sought Jashon to eliminate divine-level figures from the Donta Imperial Dynasty—a bold plan to cripple their power.

Although the exact number of divine-level characters within the dynasty remained unknown to Braydon, he understood the impact of eliminating three of them.

As the true divines clashed above the Frost Prison, Jashon showcased his prowess, proving himself a worthy adversary even against Kyan.

Silently, Braydon departed from the Frost Prison.

Today marked his departure, leaving chaos in his wake.

With all prisoners released and Jashon unleashed upon the world, the Donta Imperial Dynasty found itself preoccupied, oblivious to Braydon’s escape.

Under Braydon’s secret directive, the emperors from the sixteenth and seventeenth levels of the Frost Prison sowed discord within the Donta Imperial Dynasty, further distracting attention from Braydon’s departure.

Unaware of the true orchestrator behind the chaos, the Donta Imperial Dynasty remained clueless about the events unfolding within the Frost Prison.

Even the release of Jashon went unnoticed—a testament to Braydon’s cunning machinations.

Braydon departed from the Frost Prison, embarking on his journey home.

A year had passed since his incarceration within its walls.

During his time there, he had been completely cut off from the outside world, unaware of the shifting cycles of day and night.

His seclusion within the Frost Prison, devoted to mastering the ten imperial paths, justified the year-long absence.

Such endeavors typically demanded several years of intense focus, with some even requiring decades.

Upon his departure, Gideon Zavala, cloaked in black, remarked calmly, “He remains a disturbance wherever he goes.”

Gideon, hailing from the Ancestral Land, observed Braydon’s exit.

He was once recognized as potentially a quasi-divine by Donta Imperial Dynasty’s Lyapo Dubazane.

Gideon lingered in the shadows, his motives unclear—was he surveilling or safeguarding Braydon, or perhaps both?

Unnoticed by Braydon, Gideon silently observed his departure as chaos descended upon the Donta Imperial City.

The recently released prisoners, notorious for their viciousness, wreaked havoc, their pent-up rage unleashed upon the unsuspecting populace.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Xetsa Yeza and her cohorts infiltrated the city, reclaiming assets from the Oracle Palace’s treasury and gathering the descendants of the gods.

Their actions aimed to drain the Donta Imperial Dynasty’s resources and energy, leveraging the turmoil ignited by Braydon’s secret directive.

Starting today, Braydon would no longer have the luxury of focusing on the affairs of the Northern Army.

As he embarked on his journey homeward, he faced a long and solitary road ahead.

Travelling through the wilderness of the ruins posed considerable danger.

It was common knowledge that within the ruins, the cities belonged to the aborigines, while the wilderness was ruled by spirit beasts. freewёbnoνel.com

In such unforgiving terrain, the weak had little hope of survival.