The Strongest War God

Chapter 1337: Shadow Flying Dagger



Chapter 1337: Shadow Flying Dagger

Chapter 1337: Shadow Flying Dagger

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

He blinked open his eyes and saw the goateed old man smiling down at him.

Confusion gripped Braydon Neal as he realized he was lying on a bed.

Rubbing his swollen head, he queried, “How long was I out?”

“Three years,” came the matter-of-fact reply from the artifact spirit.

Braydon’s face paled at the revelation.

Three years?

That couldn’t be right!

If that much time had passed, the aborigines would have already overrun the outside world.

“Don’t fret,” reassured the artifact spirit. “Three years in Star Tower equates to just 3.6 months in the outside world.”

Relieved, Braydon let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

There was still time.

With that comfort, he closed his eyes and began to sift through the complex memories flooding his mind.

Among the inherited memories bestowed upon him by the tower’s owner were 108 secret techniques, all centered around the manipulation of time and space.

Additionally, during his three-year coma, two of his 3,000 imperial paths had ascended to the ninth level—the enigmatic and challenging space and time paths.

“Rise and shine, Braydon Neal,” urged the old artifact spirit. “As the bearer of Master’s soul seal, you are now the master of Star Tower. And there’s something Master left for you.”

Following the artifact spirit, Braydon made his way to a hidden chamber.

In the secluded chamber, a coffin floated in the emptiness of space.

Earlier, Braydon had glimpsed the corpse of a king, but now he realized it was merely an outer space disciple.

Within the chamber, the coffin lay, its contents hidden from view.

Adjacent to it rested a table bearing an ancient ring—a storage ring.

This ring held many relics from the tower’s former master, preserved for future use.

“The contents are for your benefit, but I can’t bestow them all upon you,” explained the artifact spirit. “Master’s collection is invaluable. If you flaunt it, you’ll attract unwanted attention from other experts, risking your safety.”

Understanding the principle of discretion, Braydon nodded in agreement.

Braydon staggered and limped, only regaining his senses after a lengthy period of recovery.

“What’s happening?” Braydon inquired, seeking clarity.

“It’s normal for lightning to strike when you’re at this level. You’ll get used to it; it’ll happen again,” came the nonchalant response from the artifact spirit.

Braydon had to come to terms with this new reality.

Once he understood the reason behind the lightning strikes, his mood soured.

He decided to seek out Rayha Qhobela and the others.

It had been months since they last met, and it was time for a reunion and perhaps a scuffle.

From that moment on, Braydon was either fighting or preparing for a fight.

With determination, he soared into the sky, propelled by the formidable speed granted by the Purple Gold Boots, which tripled his velocity.

His hand extended, summoning nine silver flying daggers—Shadow Flying Daggers.

Crafted from dimensional stones, the same material used in forging storage rings, these daggers were incredibly resilient and adept at traversing space.

Each blade was as delicate as a cicada’s wing.

Braydon effortlessly controlled the nine flying daggers, feeling as if they were an extension of his own mental power.

Their speed surpassed even his own movement.

These were the fundamental skills the artifact spirit had imparted to him.

The 16th ancient city lay in ruins, its destruction leaving only a solitary bronze door standing.

Nearly five months had elapsed, during which one-third of the door had corroded away, offering a glimpse of the outside world beyond.

Dozens of divine realm beings maintained constant vigilance, their gaze fixed on the world beyond the door.

“I can sense the outside world already,” remarked Benka. “The complete cycle of day and night, the vast starry sky—it’s enthralling!”

“My roots attempted to breach the gap, only to be thwarted by this cursed bronze door!” lamented a willow tree, its voice filled with frustration.

The door’s runes obliterated any attempts to escape.

All present understood the predicament: without destroying the entire bronze door, escape was impossible.

Benka sighed. “I wonder who concocted that corrosive liquid capable of eating through the door.”

His gaze fell on the thousand-meter ape, the likely source of the substance, but the creature remained silent, offering no explanation.

Suddenly, a warning cry rang out, and Braydon launched an ambush with the Shadow Flying Daggers leading the charge.

Having honed his attack skills, he was ready to take on the group of adversaries who had previously outnumbered him five to one.


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