The Strongest War God

In comparison, they were considered quite ordinary!

Within the confines of the Small Divine City, folks rode spirit beasts into the ancient city, and some even soared on flying spirit beasts.

Now, as for Braydon Neal, he strolled in with just a white ape, giving off the vibe of a casual pet owner.

It seemed way more commonplace!

At the city gate, instead of a constant stream of people coming and going, there were checkpoints where officials collected spirit stones from those entering.

To gain entry to the small divine city, one had to fork out ten small spirit stones, no exceptions.

Or else entry would be denied.

Three gateways awaited visitors: one for regular locals to line up, another for carriages, and the third was a hassle-free green lane.

Yet, the fees for the latter two were noticeably steeper.

There was no waiting in line for the green lane – a flat rate of 100 small spirit stones for everyone.

Carriages, typically caravans, had to shell out a whopping 1,000 spirit stones each for entering and departing.

Of course, Braydon wasn’t one to queue up; he headed straight for the green lane.

The middle-aged captain overseeing the checkpoint was a notable figure.

“Three hundred small spirit stones for two people and a beast,” he announced.

“No spirit stones on me. Can I compensate with beast cores?” The little fool asked, rummaging through a bag for a beast core.

A third-level spirit beast’s beast core!

Worth a fortune.

Each one easily valued at a hundred thousand small spirit stones.

The middle-aged captain was taken aback by the audacious move.

The odds of a third-level spirit beast forming a beast core were about one in ten.

Yet, a third-level spirit beast with a beast core surpassed others of its level in strength.

Quickly, the middle-aged captain said, “If you’re short on resources, go to the city’s trading firm and exchange the beast cores for spirit stones. Pay the entrance fee whenever you can.”

“No need!” Braydon was not concerned about losing the third-level beast core.

The middle-aged captain noticed a pile of beast cores in the little fool’s bag, mostly fifth-level ones!

Their value was staggering.

Despite the temptation, the captain dared not entertain any notions.

Beast cores were unique; each represented a formidable spirit beast.

The appearance of any beast core meant the demise of a spirit beast.

Those who possessed so many beast cores either killed those beasts themselves or received them from elders.

Regardless, he couldn’t afford to offend them.

The middle-aged captain pocketed the beast core, turned, and commanded, “Open the side door and let these two in.”

As Braydon and the little fool entered, the white ape and little tree accompanying them remained silent, blending in like regular spirit beasts without a care for others.

The Small Divine City wasn’t much smaller than the 14th ancient city.

The main street boasted ample space, lined with shops peddling various goods.

Rare spirit herbs and treasures were on display.

However, the hot items were weapons and armors – essentials for the locals.

Having the right weapon significantly boosted combat prowess, while armor increased survival chances in the wilderness.

Braydon skipped the window shopping and led the little fool to the city’s largest hotel, Zinno Hotel.

It was a cylindrical building with rumors hinting at a quasi-emperor owner.

Once inside Zinno Hotel, patrons enjoyed the establishment’s protection, with any lost items compensated at their original value.

Such assurances naturally attracted customers, though it came at a steep price.

Zinno Hotel wasn’t bursting at the seams; its fees were exorbitant.

Staying a night here meant parting with 10,000 small spirit stones.

How could regular folks even think about staying in a place like this?

Take the workers in the shops outside, for instance; they barely earned a few hundred spirit stones a month.

Even if they toiled away for a whole year, affording a night at Zinno Hotel was a distant dream.

And the feasts there? Astronomically expensive.

Only the city’s nobility or top-notch experts could afford such a lavish lifestyle.

So, here was Braydon with the little fool at the entrance of Zinno Hotel.

Four stunning girls welcomed them, fair-skinned and elegantly dressed. With a synchronized bow, they chimed, “Welcome to Zinno Hotel, Sirs.”

“Three guest rooms,” stated Braydon coolly.

“But sir, there are only two of you,” the four girls replied, clearly surprised.

“He needs one too,” Braydon added, pointing toward the white ape.

“Ah, sir, our establishment has a special spot for spirit beasts. It’s way more budget-friendly than a guest room,” one of the girls suggested gently.

“No, thanks.”

Braydon stepped into Zinno Hotel, took a quick glance at the retro hall, and didn’t linger.

He swiftly asked someone to guide him to the guest room to rest.

Zinno Hotel had three main sections: the guest room area, the spirit herb market, and the spirit artifact trading space.

Once in his guest room, Braydon shed his worn-out clothes, immersed himself in the bathtub, and closed his eyes to unwind.

After days in the wilderness, dealing with the little fool and ensuring no trouble ensued, Braydon needed a break.

Time passed.

He only stirred when he heard movement nearby.

Two girls were by the bathtub, their oval faces, delicate features, and clear eyes suggesting elegance.

While lighting incense and tossing red petals into the bath, they explained, “Sir, you were fast asleep, and we called out to you. As you did not respond, we assumed you didn’t mind.”

Annoyed, Braydon frowned. “Who gave you permission to enter?”

“Apologies, sir. We are maidservants of Zinno Hotel, here to serve our guests,” one in a pink dress explained timidly.

Bathing and attending to guests were what they should do.

Little did he know, in the ruins, especially among the aborigines, there was the existence of slaves.

The aborigines at the lowest level were entirely the private property of the strong.

Some people’s status was even lower than that of a spirit beast.

And the two girls were maidservants in Zinno Hotel.

This was nothing new for Braydon, having encountered similar situations on Heavenly Mountain.

Braydon stepped out of the bath, allowing the two maidservants to dry him and dress him in the white attire provided by Zinno Hotel.

“What are your names?” Braydon inquired.

“I’m Lewa, and she’s Hala,” Lewa replied timidly.

Braydon nodded, his eyes shifting toward the Northern King Sword on the bed.

Cracks from the battle with Ghauth Hatendi rendered it ineffective against fourth-level spirit beast scales. It needed reforging.

Should he do it himself or hire someone in this Small Divine City with its undoubtedly skilled blacksmiths?

The martial arts civilization in these ruins had to be superior to the outside world.