The Strongest War God-Chapter 1713: The Second Choice

A blue sword appeared in Haleena Hazutina’s fair hand, emitting a chilling aura.

She turned and stabbed out.

Only Samara Lazenby managed to react in time.

The four geniuses all attacked, creating layers of pressure.

Braydon Neal could smell the scent of death.

With a faint smile, he turned around.

The golden wings on his back flared, and his speed tore through space.

He bypassed the blockade of the three people and went straight behind them.

With the knife in his left hand, he slashed at Samara’s swan neck.

The blade fell, beheading her!

Samara felt wronged—why was it her again?

This was the second time!

"Braydon Neal!" Sagan Lazenby was nearly driven mad with rage.

"Don’t be anxious!" Braydon had succeeded in his first attack, eliminating the weakest opponent first.

The remaining three were the most difficult to deal with!

Haleena turned around and swung her sword.

Braydon countered with his own sword, unleashing terrifying eternal power.

He used eternity to fight against the path-returning sword Qi, and he wasn’t at a disadvantage!

But that alone wasn’t enough to defeat the three of them.

Hedeon Gvozdev had arrived, forming a seal with both hands.

The seal landed heavily behind Braydon, sending a wave of danger through his entire body.

Braydon moved slightly, activating his golden wings to block!

Boom!

The golden wings trembled slightly.

Braydon was blasted into the ground, creating a massive black pit stretching ten thousand meters.

Smoke billowed up as the three geniuses looked down coldly.

"Dead?" Sagan knew how terrifying the seal was.

Even if he had taken that blow with all his might, he would have been severely injured, let alone Braydon, who had just reached the eternal realm.

"Cough!"

A soft cough echoed through the air.

From the billowing smoke emerged a disheveled youth.

His white clothes were torn, exposing his thin upper body, while the golden wings on his back continued to shine.

Blood flowed steadily from the corner of his mouth.

Braydon wiped the blood away and smiled pleasantly. "Is that all?"

Sagan was stunned.

He glanced at Hedeon, as if questioning whether this opponent had gone easy on him.

Hedeon’s expression darkened.

"It’s the wings. They helped him negate more than 90% of the damage. Otherwise, that attack would have shattered a path-returning body!"

"The golden wings of the Foremans are indeed terrifying. No wonder they’re one of the eight lineages of the human race!" Mayfly marveled.

Braydon walked out of the pit and said softly, "Alright, the game is about to end. I hope the three of you will keep your promise!"

Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!

Figures emerged from the dust.

Son of Heaven’s Nine Strikes, the human forms he had transformed into, finally appeared.

The first figure entered Braydon’s body, followed by the second and the third!

The terrifying aura that surged up instantly overwhelmed the three of them.

"What the hell?!" Sagan was hurled away in shock. "What kind of monster is this?"

"Terrifying!" Hedeon was so frightened he wanted to flee.

Braydon’s true body absorbed the nine figures.

This was the terror of the monarch art—Nine Strikes Return to One!

Braydon’s thin frame seemed to expand, his blood vessels bulging like dragons coiling around him.

His black hair grew wildly until it reached the soles of his feet.

The terrifying aura emanating from him was like that of an ancient savage beast.

With a step forward, his aura erupted!

Within a radius of a hundred thousand miles, all the plants and vegetation turned to powder.

The overwhelming force swept outward like a tidal wave, crushing many participants to death.

Cole Colbie and the others grew even paler, blood trickling from the corners of their mouths.

Their legs trembled slightly, and their bodies hunched under the immense pressure as if they couldn’t handle it any longer.

Braydon took a step forward and was suddenly a hundred miles away.

The golden wings on his back tore through the air, creating a large spatial rift.

Braydon raised his left hand, channeling terrifying power into the Northern King Sword.

He swung sideways, unleashing a sword light that stretched for ten thousand miles, threatening to obliterate everything in its path.

In one strike, Sagan was obliterated.

His body shattered into fragments, leaving only a black-and-white token behind.

Hedeon and Haleena fell next, unable to defend themselves.

They, too, were swiftly killed.

With everyone else defeated, Braydon was left standing alone in the vast world.

He soared into the air, his wings slicing through the sky as he searched for someone.

He soon found Mervyn Cataldo, who was cowering and watching from a distance.

"Brother, can you let me go?" Mervyn pleaded, tears in his eyes.

"No!" Braydon responded, swinging his sword.

This marked the seventh time Mervyn had been struck.

As he cursed Braydon, a special force wrapped around him and sent him flying away.

Yet, Braydon managed to catch a trace of this power and pursued him for 30,000 miles.

Mervyn, relieved to be moved away, was soon horrified to see Braydon’s shadow closing in on him once again.

His entire body went numb with fear.

In the next moment, Mervyn was struck down again.

This was the eighth time he had been killed.

Desperate and resigned, Mervyn declared, "I withdraw from the competition!"

Just as he finished speaking, Hardin Dolan’s dignified voice echoed, "Contestant Mervyn Cataldo, do you choose to withdraw from the competition?"

"He won’t withdraw!" Braydon declared.

Braydon arrived and answered for him.

Hardin fell silent.

Mervyn was stunned—how could Braydon decide for him?

Even the Northern Star Residence Master had to give him some respect?

Feeling defeated, Mervyn closed his eyes and said despairingly, "Just go ahead and kill me again. After ten more times, I’ll automatically withdraw from the competition!"

"Is it so hard to acknowledge me as your master?" Braydon asked. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

"Even if I die, I won’t become a slave!" Mervyn retorted, opening his eyes.

"Then join the human army and become part of the Northern Army!" Braydon offered as an alternative.

"What Northern Army?" Mervyn asked, confused.

"Why are you dragging this out? Do you want to join or not?" Braydon frowned, ready to attack again.

"I’m in!" Mervyn quickly agreed.

If he faced two more deaths at Braydon’s hands, he would indeed have to withdraw from the competition.

Mervyn still wanted to go to the race headquarters for the finals!

As long as he wasn’t a slave, he could consider any other option.

With Mervyn settled, Braydon turned his attention to the remaining nine.

He addressed them with a thunderous voice, "I’ll give you nine a choice: join the human army and become a general of the Northern Army, or withdraw from the competition!"

"Are you really going to kill me if I withdraw?" A new voice spoke up.

It was Huey Schwartz, who had witnessed Braydon defeat the four earlier.

He was in complete despair, realizing that if this was Braydon’s true strength, they would never be able to match him.

Little did he know that Braydon’s Spirit Summoning Art was even more fearsome!

"You can deal with the consequences yourself," Braydon said calmly.

"Enough talk. I’ve already submitted my application to the military headquarters in the Second Universe!" Magnar Forbord appeared, along with Samara, Serge Gasquet, Jocko Wemyss, and Layo Achilleos.

In the end, they chose to compromise.

Braydon was blocking their way, and if they didn’t give in, they would be eliminated.

They also feared that Braydon would cause trouble for them later if they didn’t comply.