The Strongest War God - Chapter 1339

Chapter 1339: 1,000 Tons of Plant Spirit Liquid

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Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Braydon Neal’s velocity soared under the Sky Splitting Wings, but he wasn’t in a rush to shake off his pursuers.

Instead, he toyed with them, knowing he could keep them at bay for decades, even centuries, as long as they didn’t damage the bronze door.

After 9,000 miles, the giant ape and the others conceded defeat.

Recognizing Braydon’s unattainable speed, they abandoned the chase and returned to guard the bronze door.

The destruction of that door was their main aim.

Back at the small mountain, Braydon retrieved the trunk of the old willow tree, nearly severing it in half with a length of 600 meters and a thickness of 80 meters.

Flowing with green leaves and grass essence, it contained the valuable essence of plant life—a divine-level resource capable of healing grievous injuries with just a single drop.

Over the next three days, Braydon diligently refined this essence.

The result: 18,000 bottles, each weighing 10 pounds, for a grand total of 180,000 pounds. It was common knowledge that in the ruins, plant essence was sold by the ounce.

Yet, Braydon had acquired a staggering 180,000 pounds.

However, despite this impressive yield, it was far from the trunk’s potential.

At 600 meters long, 80 meters thick, and weighing at least 10,000 tons, the trunk had the capacity for much greater production.

Of course, there were also plant essences within, though of slightly inferior quality.

The liquid was no longer viscous, but rather thin, with a pale green hue.

Braydon didn’t overlook these details.

He extracted all the liquid, managing to collect 1,000 tons of this inferior plant spirit liquid.

Though not as potent as true essence, this plant liquid still boasted rich spiritual Qi, proving beneficial for emperors, albeit with a milder effect.

It held significant value for pinnacle martial artists.

Regardless, it was a product of the great-success plant demon divine, and Braydon made sure to collect every drop.

Amidst his extraction, he discovered three crown fruits nestled within the willow tree’s crown.

“Willow trees bearing fruit?”

Braydon pondered in surprise, considering the implications for a divine-level willow tree.

The three white fruits, imbued with lightning and brimming with vitality, likely surpassed the efficacy of thousand-year-old herbs.

With his haul in tow, Braydon vanished in an instant, reappearing in the distant Zunde Royal City.

Here, the warriors of the Northern Army had been battling relentlessly in the deserted city.

However, Braydon refrained from revealing himself, opting to stay hidden to avoid attracting the attention of the divine-level characters.

His absence was deliberate, intended to divert the focus of those powerful beings.

Revealing himself would only invite imminent danger, potentially endangering both himself and the Northern Army stationed in Zunde Royal City.

For as long as Braydon’s demeanor indicated his indifference toward the area, the divines guarding the bronze door wouldn’t even spare a glance in this direction, let alone concern themselves with it.

To them, the sole focus remained on the bronze door, their only means of escape.

Their singular objective was to carve a path to freedom, disregarding the surroundings entirely.

Meanwhile, Zunde Royal City brimmed with numerous elite forces, poised for defense.

Elsewhere, in the royal city, Frediano Jadanza, adorned in golden armor, appeared visibly drained, bearing the signs of grievous wounds.

The Northern Army sons, too, bore the scars of relentless combat.

The past months had been fraught with bloody skirmishes against a diverse array of adversaries, including aboriginal experts, demon beasts, and plant demons.

The sheer number of beast and aboriginal emperors surpassed their expectations, hailing from various factions within the ruins.

Some emerged from forbidden zones, while others from uncharted territories.

Entering the hall, Jonah Shaw, clad in tattered garments soaked in blood, exuded a palpable aura of battle-hardened resolve.

“Frediano? How are you?” Jonah asked.

“I’m holding up. What of the eastern defense line? Did we face any aboriginal emperors this morning?” Frediano’s voice carried a somber tone.

“I’ve dealt with the two intruders,” Jonah replied tersely, the stains on his attire a testament to the confrontation’s toll.

In the relentless cycle of battle, each victory exacted its toll, layering fresh wounds atop lingering injuries, leaving little time for recovery before being thrust back into the fray.

The Northern Army warriors were now all bearing wounds.

Two months ago, Khalil Zorn of the Morphius Dynasty fell in battle at the capital’s northern gate.

Channing Lestrange met a similar fate a month later, defending the southern gate.

Successive losses claimed seven of the ice-sealed prodigies, leaving countless survivors to carry on the fight.

Amidst their mourning, the people of the Northern Army had no respite; they could only steel themselves for the ongoing struggle.

The stakes were dire.

If the Northern Army were to falter, Zunde Royal City would fall to the aboriginal army, its inhabitants destined to be fodder for the roaming spirit beasts.

The tens of millions of Hansworth children who had migrated to the 16th ruin represented the future hope of Hansworth.

Defeat was not an option.

The consequences were too grim to contemplate.

With Westley Hader, Hendrix Bailey, and other allies having joined the fray, the situation grew even more precarious.

Recent attacks had forced Frediano into further combat, aggravating his already festering injuries.

His repeated wounds had birthed a hidden ailment.

Luther Carden’s arrival heralded a grim reality.

“Our stores of healing herbs are dwindling,” he informed them. “Months of relentless conflict have depleted our reserves. The Northern Army, Sanguine, and Gray Wolf Armies have suffered grievously.”

Frediano’s frustration was palpable.

“We must find a solution,” Luther implored. “Without replenishing our supplies of healing elixirs, the toll of casualties will only escalate.”

The grim truth of war weighed heavily upon them all, with hundreds of thousands having already perished in the relentless clashes of recent months.

Injuries were rampant, and without access to spirit herbs, the death toll from wounds would inevitably skyrocket.

Luther’s bitter smile conveyed the grim reality.

“With the bronze door sealed, Zunde Royal City has become a fortress under siege. Even a great-success emperor can’t breach the encirclement. Where can we possibly find spirit herbs?”

Reinforcements were nonexistent, and they stood alone in their plight.

It was a bleak situation, but they had no choice but to press on.

Despite the seemingly hopeless odds, they were compelled to continue the fight.

While the 16th ruin posed its own dangers, it remained their best option—holding on to a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

Yuri Quall’s once pristine attire was now stained with blood, his countenance pale as he spoke with resolve. “Tonight, I will lead my men in an attempt to break out. The ruins harbor various spirit herbs, and we must seize this opportunity to gather them.”

However, Frediano swiftly intervened, recognizing the folly in such a risky endeavor.

Yuri’s desperation was palpable as he questioned their passive stance.

“Are we simply going to wait here for death?” he demanded, his voice tinged with anguish.

The Northern Army, comprising ten legions, had already suffered significant losses over the past months of relentless combat.

Each month brought a devastating toll, with one-third of the army falling in battle.

The staggering figure—300,000 fallen soldiers—marked an unprecedented level of casualties in the history of the Northern Army.

The weight of their sacrifice hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the grim reality they faced.

Throughout this period, it was the Northern Army that stood firm against the fiercest assaults.

The most formidable threat to Zunde Royal City wasn’t the aboriginal army, but rather the onslaught of spirit beasts and plant demons.

Their every move posed a grave danger to the Northern Army, capable of inflicting devastating casualties with each strike.

The tension in the hall was palpable, weighing heavily on all present.