Creator, Braydon Neal!

Skylar Neal was drenched in cold sweat.

Emmett Neal had already halted, unable to lead the way.

Everyone reached a deadlock.

Ignoring everyone, Braydon Neal gazed at the largest restaurant in Hoizen not far away and headed straight for it.

Swoosh!

All eyes turned toward him.

"What an arrogant brat. Do you think we're nothing?" A purple-robed middle-aged man glared coldly.

The figure of the Son of Heaven's Nine Strikes flashed forward. 

In his left hand, an invisible saber slashed horizontally through the air. 

The blade light spanned a thousand feet and cleaved down.

With just one strike, the saber shattered the purple-robed middle-aged man's protective soft armor and cleaved him in two, slicing through to his core and destroying it outright.

He had fulfilled the middle-aged man's earlier words—Braydon truly treated them as nothing, mere trash deserving of death!

Everyone was stunned and seething with fury!