Chapter 1532: The Ultimate Restriction

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

With a single palm, all of Braydon Neal’s bones shattered, his aura instantly flattened.

His condensed power dissipated, the domain shrinking from seven miles to five, all thanks to the girl’s strike.

“Second move!” Braydon’s injuries miraculously healed as he charged forward once more, his voice icy.

His fist connected, only to be met by the girl’s descending palm.

The force sent Braydon hurtling into a nearby palace, startling a massive toad from its slumber.

The creature, covered in lumps of flesh, eyed Braydon with a ferocious hunger.

Though his strike landed, Braydon’s body lay flattened in the pit.

Yet, amidst his pain, his chaos domain had shrunk from five kilometers to a mere two.

Just a little further—the final step.

Two of the three moves had transpired; one remained.

The girl, clad in white, stood barefoot above him, her frown deepening as she spoke coldly, “This is your last chance. You may not survive.”

“Why should a cultivator fear death?” Braydon’s voice rang with valor, echoing across the realm.

The girl acquiesced, her slender hand descending with the full force of a life and death realm cultivator.

In that palm lay the potential to vanquish any saint heart realm cultivator.

The palm’s force seemed infused with a 30% killing intent, a palpable reminder of the girl’s demonic nature.

Despite her transformation into human form, she remained, at her core, a demon beast—a fact not lost on Braydon.

Today’s display of Braydon’s cultivation prowess had left the horned white snake in awe.

Undoubtedly, he was a rare prodigy among humans.

If eliminated prematurely, the demon race would have one less adversary to contend with in the future.

As the palm struck, Braydon surged from the pit, meeting it with a flurry of fist techniques.

Yet, he found himself unable to counter the overwhelming force—his reluctance to unleash his full potential evident.

Despite being imbued with heaven-defying techniques, Braydon refrained from utilizing them, opting instead to use the horned white snake’s challenge as a means of personal growth.

With each strike, the pit deepened, plummeting to a depth of over a thousand meters as Braydon’s body bore the brunt of the impact, contorting into a mere meatball.

Though severely wounded, the primordial chaos domain beneath him trembled, shrinking from two kilometers to just one—a slow but perceptible evolution.

This arduous process spanned an entire month—a grueling testament to Braydon’s perseverance.

Constantly suppressed by the girl’s palm, he confronted his most formidable obstacle yet, relying solely on his own mastery to navigate through.

Unable to rely on external aids, Braydon endured immense suffering, knowing that delaying his cultivation would only amplify the daunting challenges of future bottlenecks.

Reborn from this crucible of agony, Braydon’s domain finally reached completion—a mile in diameter.

From the meatball emerged Braydon, transformed and revitalized, exuding an aura befitting a monarch.

With perfect mastery over his power, his combat strength soared exponentially—ten thousandfold.

As he donned his new attire, Braydon cast a faint smile toward the white-clad girl above.

“You facilitated my breakthrough in three moves. I owe you one,” he acknowledged graciously.

“No need,” the girl responded, her fists involuntarily clenching.

She harbored regrets; though she had entertained thoughts of ending Braydon’s life during the past month, she refrained from acting.

Now, she yearned to witness the extent of his newfound power.

“Are you truly prepared to face me?” Braydon queried softly.

“In a month, my body has regained forty percent of its strength,” the girl declared confidently, implying a corresponding increase in her combat prowess.

Observing her stance, Braydon shifted sideways, his ten thousand mile domain condensing to a mere one mile as he raised his hand, poised for action.

A palm strike now showcased strength amplified ten thousandfold.

Su Shen had never been one to publicly give flowers, and the whole situation made him visibly uncomfortable. Gu Zi instantly recognized that he was feeling shy. With a smile, she took the flowers and looped her arm through his. “I love them. Thank you,” she murmured.

Su Shen, holding her hand, whispered back, “As long as you like them.”

Before she received the flowers, Su Shen had been nervous. He wasn’t good at romance, and he’d only started to learn it for her. Seeing her smile at the roses, though, made him feel a sense of accomplishment. He would make an effort to be more romantic in the future—because she liked it.

Gong Xin, her eyes widening at the sight of the bouquet, couldn’t help but recall something from the past. She tugged Gu Zi aside and whispered, “I remember when you were chasing my brother, you used to send him roses too—one a day. It looks like you two really are made for each other, even your way of wooing is the same.”

The smile faded from Gu Zi’s face, and she shot Gong Xin a glare. “Focus on your food, Gong Xin. Jin Long will make sure you’re fed, so shut your mouth and stop talking nonsense, alright?”

Seeing Gu Zi’s stern expression, Gong Xin immediately raised her hands in surrender, making a zipping motion across her lips. “I won’t bring it up again, especially not in front of your husband. I’m sorry.”

After dinner, the group left the private room and headed home, none of them wanting to disturb Gu Zi’s rest.

When they arrived back, Gu Zi was so exhausted she could barely keep her eyes open. Su Shen, ever considerate, made sure the kids didn’t disturb her. He asked Su Jing to take Su Le to bed and ensured the boys wouldn’t bother her. Soon, the door to the master bedroom was gently shut.

Su Shen prepared a warm bath for Gu Zi, but she was so tired that she fell asleep by the bed before she could even get into it. Su Shen couldn’t bring himself to wake her, so he covered her with a light blanket and, holding her close, drifted off to sleep himself.

Gu Zi slept soundly, without a dream. The next morning, she was awoken by the shrill sound of her alarm.

Undoubtedly, the situation was incredibly daunting.

Coincidentally, at this precise moment, deep within the universe, concealed in a secluded and obscure location, stood a figure draped in black robes—a figure renowned as one of the eight lineage chiefs of the human race and the architect behind the creation of the Soul Tower.

“Who has tampered with the Saint Restriction?!” he demanded, his voice resonating throughout the vast expanse of the Soul Tower.

But what was the Saint Restriction?

Unfortunately, silence greeted his inquiry.

Braydon, that cunning man, would never confess unless caught red-handed.

He was once a mischievous youth, raised alongside Luke Yates and the unruly lads from the Northern Army—a cohort brimming with mischief and mayhem.

If there was blame to be assigned for their misdeeds, it would inevitably fall on Braydon, their elder brother—or perhaps, they had all gotten their mischievous inclinations from him.

In that moment, Braydon appeared to have grasped something profound, as the peculiar sensation surged a hundredfold, abruptly drawing his attention.

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