The Strongest War God

Traditional purification methods proved ineffective.

Braydon Neal’s left hand made a subtle movement, his finger flicking. The seventeen orbs of spirit liquid, enveloped in his mental power, began a gradual rotation, forming small whirlpools that gained momentum.

Initially, they rotated at a rate of one turn per second.

Then, the speed accelerated.

Three, five, seven revolutions per second!

As Braydon pushed his limits, controlling the seventeen whirlpools to rotate at ten turns per second, his face paled, and cold sweat emerged on his temples.

This was nearly Braydon’s mental power threshold.

The edge of his mental power.

“A new purification method?”

Cor Demeksa asked in disbelief, witnessing the spirit liquid transform into cyclones, spinning rapidly and shedding impurities.

A few moments later, the spirit liquid attained a crystal-clear state, resembling a ball of green jade radiating a brilliant luster.

Quality sufficient for refining a superior-grade Blood Clotting Pill.

However, a sudden explosion interrupted the process.

Bang!

The first orb of main medicinal liquid dissipated into spirit mist.

In the following seconds, the remaining orbs followed suit.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Seventeen orbs burst into spirit mist.

“Pfft!”

Braydon coughed up blood onto the pill cauldron, a result of overdrawing his mental power and injuring his foundation.

Lying on the bed, munching on a chicken drumstick, Luke Yates was startled, asking in a concerned tone, “Brother, what happened?”

“I overstrained my mental power and harmed my foundation!”

Cor’s expression shifted.

He retrieved a transparent pill from his pouch, a transparent spirit pill – a sight new to Braydon.

After consuming the pill, Braydon, plagued by a headache, experienced a surge of clarity, relieving the discomfort.

“Thank you, Mr. Demeksa!”

Braydon acknowledged the value of the mental power recovery pill.

“It’s a trivial matter, not worth mentioning. Young Master Neal, your purification method was a last-minute idea, likely taught by a master. This technique demands at least the mental power of a seventh-level spirit alchemist for perfect execution,” Cor explained.

Braydon’s mental power, currently at the first level, had a considerable journey ahead to reach the seventh level.

Cor suspected that Braydon’s purification method was taught by an expert, a technique deemed priceless even among high-level spirit alchemists.

Surprisingly, Braydon allowed Cor to witness it without reservation, signaling trust.

Braydon, recovering some color, wiped blood from his mouth, admitting, “I was experimenting. I’m not well-acquainted with this purification method.”

“Did you create it?”

Cor displayed a hint of shock.

Braydon nodded, not denying his role in the method’s creation.

Cor, momentarily frozen, fell silent, questioning his life choices.

Even he began to entertain the notion that anyone could become a spirit alchemist and devise purification methods.

Such high talent!

In that moment, Cor was convinced Braydon hailed from a prominent clan, with powerful ancestors.

He recognized the inheritance of strength through bloodlines and genetic talent.

If parents possessed strength, their descendants might surpass them.

Offering advice, Cor urged, “Rest well. Avoid using your mental power for the next six months. Overuse may harm your foundation and jeopardize your martial arts future. It’s better to prevent regrets.”

“Thank you for the reminder. I’ll be cautious.”

Braydon expressed gratitude, and Cor, respecting the need for rest, took his leave.

Impressed, Cor marveled at Braydon’s astonishing talent.

Before departing, he reassured Braydon, “Young Master Neal, I won’t disclose your purification method. Today, I witnessed a spirit alchemist at work, broadening my horizons.”

Braydon smiled, indifferent to secrecy.

To him, no technique was worth concealing.

Braydon’s primary concern lay in his martial arts path.

Following this event, Braydon remained in Zinno Hotel for the entire day, refraining from venturing outside.

Braydon immersed himself in the cultivation of the Great Void of Kylo Art, summoning a wisp of purple Qi.

Simultaneously, the pain in his head gradually subsided, and his mental power surged unusually.

All his injuries had miraculously healed!

The Great Void of Kylo Art not only boosted mental power but also displayed remarkable recovery capabilities.

It felt akin to pulling an all-nighter and then enjoying a long, rejuvenating sleep.

Instantly, vitality surged through him, leaving his body pleasantly languid.

“Kid, who taught you the Great Void of Kylo Art?” queried the green-clothed man’s voice emanating from the spiritual aperture.

“Sadie,” Braydon promptly replied.

The man in green fell silent, harboring a trace of doubt.

He pondered the peculiarities of life, recalling his own experiences cultivating the Great Void of Kylo Art.

In his youth, as the Holy Son of Kylo, he attained unprecedented levels, astounding the elders.

By the age of a hundred, he reached the third level, and his outstanding progress even led to offers for him to assume the role of Lord of Mount Kylo.

As the years passed, he ascended to the fourth level and eventually an elusive fifth level, reaching the peak of cultivation.

Yet, now he was witnessing an even more extraordinary cultivator – Braydon Neal.

At the age of twenty, Braydon reached the fourth level of the Great Void of Kylo Art, surpassing the achievements of all previous Holy Sons of Kylo.

“Senior,” Braydon inquired softly, “My Great Void of Kylo Art showed signs of a breakthrough a few months ago. Has there been any progress?”

“Haha!” chuckled the green-clothed man, perceiving Braydon’s intentions to be mischievous, trying to trigger him.

Braydon’s eyes flickered with a peculiar expression.

He realized that he might be overthinking things.

From the man in green’s reaction, Braydon could infer what was happening.

Since he had a notion, he decided to address it directly.

“Senior, are you also cultivating the Great Void of Kylo Art?” Braydon asked calmly.

“Back then, my talent was a bit lacking, and I only managed to reach the fifth level,” the man in green responded nonchalantly.

To be able to reach the fifth level, he considered his talent less than stellar.

“Senior, your talent is truly astounding. Cultivating the Great Void of Kylo Art to the fifth level is a remarkable achievement. I presume you must be well over a hundred years old at this point?” Braydon commented.

“My talent isn’t that great. Today, at the age of 21, I’ve only reached the fourth level of the Great Void of Kylo Art,” he continued, “I anticipate it will take another half year to attain the fifth level.”

Braydon continued calmly.

The man in green was rendered speechless.

After a brief moment of silence, he grumbled, “Get lost!” before withdrawing and remaining silent, likely nursing the blow to his pride.

Braydon smirked, standing up and strolling toward the alchemy cauldron, where Luke Yates lay sprawled on the bed, deeply engrossed in slumber.

After all, life in the wilderness had drained the little fool’s energy.

Despite his boundless vitality, forty days of wild living had left him exhausted.

Now, nestled in comfort, he indulged in snacks and blissful sleep, foregoing cultivation and leading a life more comfortable than anyone else’s.