Chapter 1408: The Neal Family is Conceited

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

The Stone family members stood watch, unaware that three of them were deep in discussion on how to detain all the Stone family members present.

This time, the Stone family had dispatched over 200 youths, a force sizable enough to trouble the Stone family for a good while if they were all to remain.

Most of those selected for training were the cream of the family’s crop, genuine prodigies.

“The priority is securing the saint weapon. We bide our time for a strike against the Stone family,” Torrance Siegel briefed the Siegel family’s young talents, their expressions grave.

Rumors had circulated within the family for some time now; it was only a matter of time before the Neal family initiated conflict with the Stone family.

Despite Thirteen’s demise at the hands of the Hall of Souls, the Stone family’s significant presence among the Hall’s soul slaves ensured an unresolved vendetta.

When the inevitable conflict ignited, the Siegel family would undoubtedly align with the Neal family.

Lyon Foreman and Remington Neal discreetly disseminated this intel, including to Braydon Neal, whose eyes burned with icy determination beneath his silver mask.

Fused with a fragment of Thirteen’s soul, Braydon inherited a portion of his memories, rife with animosity toward the Stone family.

Revenge beckoned, and Braydon harbored no intention of showing clemency.

A sudden cry erupted from the crowd. “The sword Qi tide has ceased!”

Whoosh!

In a blur of motion, everyone dove into the sea, their sights set on claiming the saint weapon.

The longsword jutted diagonally from the seabed, its silent presence steeped in millennia-old menace that time failed to diminish.

Like dragons plunging into the depths, the competitors descended en masse.

A formidable youth clad in black armor from the Stone family bellowed, “Dragon Transformation into the Sea! Savage Dragon Technique!”

It was the Stone family’s venerable Savage Dragon Technique, an inheritance as ancient as the ocean itself.

Once submerged, he morphed into a relentless force, sweeping aside all challengers with draconic fury, rendering them unable to approach.

“Stiles Stone!” came a chilling challenge as Jaromir charged forth, his gaze icy with intent.

The allure of the high-level saint weapon paled in comparison to his thirst for vengeance against the Stone people.

“You dare to obstruct me?” roared the black-armored youth, his dominance unyielding.

“Today, I dare to end you!” countered Jaromir, the second among the thirteen Spirit Sea disciples, his prowess unmatched.

As a pinnacle figure within Spirit Sea’s ranks, he disregarded the allure of the saint weapon in favor of confronting Stiles Stone.

The latter, lacking a formidable weapon, was resolute in his quest for the artifact.

Yet, he hadn’t anticipated Jaromir’s audacious interference.

A primal howl pierced the air as a palpable aura of dread engulfed them all.

Thirteenth level of the saint realm!

From the initial stage to the peak stage!

The final thirteenth stage realm marked the peak.

As for Stiles, he stood as a peak saint.

All thirteen saint realm levels had been traversed.

He stood just a step away from the eminent saint realm.

For such a prodigy, he likely wielded the combat strength to vanquish foes of higher realms.

Jaromir emanated his aura, holding his own without disadvantage.

He too was a peak saint.

The prodigies representing both families engaged fiercely, naturally drawing outsider attention.

“Stiles’ Savage Dragon Technique has ascended to the second level,” remarked a male powerhouse from the Golden Dragon Pavilion, one of the ten great factions of the Spirit Sea, satisfaction evident. “Dragon scales have sprouted. Soon he’ll reach the third level, sporting dragon horns!”

“Carlton has been teaching you well!” Severin Stone remarked.

Stiles hailed from the Stone family but found mentorship under the Golden Dragon Pavilion’s Pavilion Master Carlton Yokley in his youth, forging a special bond.

The connection between the Stone family and the Golden Dragon Pavilion was evidently extraordinary.

“The Neal family’s talents shouldn’t be underestimated. Their eight-eyed dual-pupils remain a legendary undefeated trait,” Jairo Mobley opined, shaking his head.

“No need to fret, Jairo. That lad suffered grave injuries before. He no longer boasts eight eyes but six. It’ll be a challenge for him to unleash his full potential,” Severin chuckled darkly.

Back then, the Stone family had slain Thirteen and wounded Wolfhart Neal and Jaromir in their journey.

The elite talents of the Neal family lay either deceased or injured due to the Stone family’s actions.

The ultimate showdown between the two youthful prodigies ensued.

Stiles, his form entirely encased in dragon scales, stretched his body to its limits, even harnessing peak combat prowess underwater.

Jaromir delved into the path of space, primarily focusing on spatial cultivation with the sword path following closely behind.

They treaded parallel paths, each complementing the other seamlessly.

Swoosh!

Jaromir brandished his sword in his left hand, hurtling toward Stiles.

A single stroke cleaved through miles of sea, the blade’s keen edge slicing across Stiles’ chest.

Dragon scales splintered, blood spilling forth.

Stiles found no defense against Jaromir’s blade!

Infused with the path of space, the sword possessed the might to sever even the fabric of reality.

Stiles wailed in agony, his eyes ablaze with crimson fury, his primal nature fully unleashed.

The lineage of the Stone family seemed almost infernal.

On the sea’s surface, Severin’s countenance soured.

Jairo of the Golden Dragon Pavilion furrowed his brow, sighing softly. “The Neal family has consistently birthed prodigies across generations. Even without employing the dual-pupils, this youth’s grasp of the path surpasses that of Stiles.”

Amongst peers, the competition was often a matter of life and death.

The stakes were dire – the loser faced certain death!

The brutality inherent in martial arts was a realm unfathomable to ordinary folk.

Stiles harbored no desire for demise, yet Jaromir’s blade, sharp enough to cleave through anything, left him no recourse.

Neither defeat nor death appealed to him!

In the crucible of life and death, potential surged to its zenith.

Stiles found himself subjugated, his gaze fixed upon Jaromir, serene amidst the chaos, while he fervently channeled the Savage Dragon Technique.

Scales encroached upon his wounds, gradually enveloping his visage as well.

The savage aura intensified.

His bloodline surged, each pulse unlocking dormant power.

A dark protrusion emerged atop his raven locks.

Rugged, like a black horn.

A dragon’s horn!

The third level of the Savage Dragon Technique.

Stiles teetered on the brink of breakthrough.

His latent potential surged, poised to propel him into the realm of the eminent saint.

Should he succeed, his combat prowess would assuredly soar a hundredfold.

At that juncture, Jaromir might find himself unable to subdue him.

Wolfhart and Constantine Siegel observed intently.

Braydon’s brow furrowed, casting a concerned glance.

“Brother, intercept him!” Constantine urged.

Amongst the thirteen Spirit Sea disciples, they stood alone.

“I’ll let you ascend to the eminent saint realm,” Jaromir declared, sword in hand, his tone indifferent.

Arrogant and dismissive!

He regarded Stiles with disdain.

Such arrogance was inherent to the Neal lineage!

This air of frivolity, passed down through generations alongside their bloodline, extended even to Braydon, a figure known for his ruthlessness.

Stiles seethed with fury. Never before had he been so belittled.

The Stone family too boasted a lineage of formidable inheritance, standing no weaker than the Neal family.

The disciples of the Stone family were every bit the equal of their counterparts in the Neal family!

Yet, events of the day painted a picture where the Neal family seemed destined to reign supreme above all others.

Stiles’ heart brimmed with resentment and rage, his thoughts consumed by one fervent desire.

To break through!

He bellowed like a beast ensnared.

“Break through!”

His eyes aflame with fury.

Meanwhile, Jaromir, clad in verdant attire, stood by, observing with icy detachment.

He had promised he’d allow Stiles to ascend to the eminent saint realm.

But even if Stiles attained such heights, Jaromir would still slay him!

The death of Stiles mattered little; what truly mattered was shattering the confidence of the Stone family’s younger generation, stripping them of their pride.

Jaromir’s intentions ran deep.

An ominous aura cloaked the realm.

Stiles achieved his breakthrough.

A path unfurled behind him, ablaze in fiery red.

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