The Angel Martial Souls behind them had completely changed.
They were no longer the half-transparent, mortal-looking phantoms they had been before. Now they were solid as the real thing, their bodies suffused with ancient divinity.
Their wings had grown from two to four, then transformed directly into six. Every feather shimmered with a sacred halo, both pure and majestic, its gentleness concealing an edge that brooked no affront.
Six-Winged Angels!
The purest, highest-grade Angel Martial Souls, passed down by the First Generation Angel God ten thousand years ago.
Though their quality still fell short of Xu Yanli's Mutated Martial Soul, which surpassed even an Angel Martial Soul, they were powerful enough.
Over the past ten thousand years, the Angel Clan had retreated into the mountains, concealed their identities, and struggled to survive. This Martial Soul had long since been completely lost.
They had all thought they would never see it again in their lifetimes. The Six-Winged Angel would exist only in the clan's crumbling ancient texts, carved into the weather-worn stone statue of the First Generation Angel God.
But today, it had returned!
Lezheng Yang stood at the courtyard gate, witnessing the scene with his own eyes.
This Level 99 Limit Douluo had spent half his life as the Angel Clan's leader. A tough, iron-willed man who had never lost his composure in public, he felt his eyes grow wet in an instant. In the end, he couldn't hold back his tears. They trickled down the wrinkles in his cheeks and fell onto the breastplate of his silver armor, shattering with a soft patter.
Ten thousand years! An entire ten thousand years!
At last, the Angel Clan had lived to see this day!
Xu Yanli stood beneath the osmanthus tree, looking at the fifteen clan members who had just broken