The Clan Erupts in Celebration, Divine Mark Between the Brows, Heavenly Eye, Open!

Everyone was stunned.

Their clan chief, an expert of Soul Douluo rank, the absolute pillar of the Breaking Clan—his martial soul had actually...

Though they did not know what martial soul Yang Jian had awakened, the magnificent sight of countless spears bowing before it was enough to dispel all their previous disappointment and doubts.

At the center of the formation.

Yang Jian lowered his head to look at the long weapon in his hand, his eyes gleaming.

It did not matter that the Breaking Clan members did not recognize it. He did!

The Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear.

The personal weapon of Erlang Shen—the godlike figure who obeyed commands but not decrees, who could trade blows evenly with the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, and who possessed both formidable backing and strength!

At first, he had thought he merely shared a name with Qingyuan Miaodao True Lord, but now it seemed things were not that simple.

Gripping the Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear tightly, Yang Jian could feel the dominance and pride emanating from it.

It was not an ordinary weapon martial soul. It had spirit; it had a soul!

Of course. As the weapon of that great deity, even restricted by this world and appearing in the form of a martial soul, it could still make ten thousand weapons submit!

"Now that I have the Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear, the iconic Heavenly Eye should also..."

The thought had barely formed in Yang Jian's mind when he felt an itch between his brows.

Strands of golden light suddenly emerged, winding and slithering like spiritual serpents.

The golden light grew more and more intense, brighter and brighter, its majesty no weaker than when the Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear had awakened!

Three breaths later, the tingling turned scorching hot. As his brow burned, a vertical crack slowly opened between his brows.

It was an eye.

More precisely, it was a vertical eye, golden all over, its pupil deep as an abyss, as though it contained endless mysteries.

The instant the vertical eye opened, a beam of golden divine light shot out, piercing straight into the heavens!

In the sky, the gloomy gray-black clouds were instantly pierced through by the golden light. In moments, they were torn open by a massive rift stretching hundreds of meters. Golden sunlight poured down, bathing the entire square in gold.

At that moment, Yang Jian held the Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear in his right hand, his vertical eye open between his brows, faint golden light swirling around him as if a deity had descended into the world!

Twin Martial Souls! He actually possessed the exceptionally rare Twin Martial Souls!

After a brief deathly silence, discussion erupted across the square!

"Twin Martial Souls! They're Twin Martial Souls!"

"Heaven blesses the Breaking Clan!"

The clan members erupted in celebration. Those who had survived that battle wept with tears streaming down their aged faces, while youths of Yang Jian's generation threw their heads back and cheered.

Six years! The Breaking Clan had endured in Mountain Lord City for six years, bearing the hatred of betrayal and the blood-deep grudge. Today, they had finally seen hope!

Yang Lin's entire body trembled. His lips quivered, yet he could not say a word.

He leaped down from the platform, grabbed a clan member beside him, and shook him forcefully.

"Did you see that? Did you see that? Twin Martial Souls! My nephew has Twin Martial Souls!"

Yang Wudi remained standing on the platform, utterly motionless.

He stared fixedly at the small figure in the center of the square, bathed in golden light. He stared at that strange long weapon that had made every Soul-Breaker Spear bow its head, at that vertical eye that had pierced the heavens.

Six years!

For a full six years, he had awakened countless times from dreams in the dead of night, dreaming of his son and daughter-in-law lying in pools of blood, dreaming of his clansmen trampled beneath Spirit Hall's iron cavalry, dreaming of those familiar faces turning to ashes amid the flames.

He had endured. He had buried all his hatred in his heart and turned himself into an icy spear, all for the day when he could fight his way back.

But sometimes, he had been afraid.

He feared he would not live to see that day. He feared the Breaking Clan would slowly perish in hatred. He feared that even his son's bloodline would ultimately be unable to complete the vengeance for him.

But now...

"Ha ha ha ha ha!!!"

Yang Wudi threw back his head and laughed.

His laughter boomed like a great bell, shaking leaves from the surrounding trees and making even the platform tremble faintly.

He laughed freely, wildly, recklessly, until something warm slipped from the corners of his eyes.

Yang Wudi had never shed tears before others in his life.

Not when his son and daughter-in-law died, not when more than half his clansmen fell in battle, not when he led the surviving members of the clan to barely survive in Mountain Lord City.

Yet at this moment, he could not stop the scorching tears from falling!

"Good! Good! Good!"

Three successive cries of "Good," each louder than the last.

He strode down from the platform, every step making the ground tremble. In only a few strides, he crossed into the center of the square and arrived before Yang Jian.

Yang Wudi crouched down and extended his large, callused hands, gently placing them on Yang Jian's shoulders.

"Jian'er..."

His voice was hoarse, yet it trembled with emotion he could not suppress.

"Do you know what you've awakened?"

Yang Jian looked up at the old man who had buried all his thoughts deep in his heart.

He saw the tears in the old man's eyes, the sorrow hidden beneath them for six years, and the hope that had now been rekindled.

He knew that at this moment, he was no longer merely a transmigrator, no longer merely Yang Ji'an.

He was Yang Jian, Yang Jian of the Breaking Clan—the Yang Jian who bore the hatred and hopes of the entire clan, and the Yang Jian who carried the name of that great deity.

"Your grandson knows."

He spoke, his voice childish yet remarkably steady.

"What your grandson awakened is the hope of the Breaking Clan."

Yang Wudi froze.

Then he burst into laughter again, tears streaming down his face.

"Yes, yes, yes, hope! The hope of the Breaking Clan!"

He patted Yang Jian's shoulder hard. An eighty-second-rank Soul Douluo was actually so overwhelmed that his words came out in a jumble.

"Good child! With those words from you, even if Grandpa dies, I can rest in peace!"

"Grandpa."

Yang Jian looked at him and spoke each word clearly, just as Yang Wudi had once explained the meaning of his name to him.

"You will not die. You still have to watch your grandson avenge Father and Mother, clear the clan's hatred, and reclaim the glory that belongs to the Breaking Clan!"

Yang Wudi's laughter abruptly stopped.

He stared steadily at his six-year-old grandson, at those ink-black eyes that were so deep they did not seem like a child's.

After a long while, he slowly nodded, his voice low and hard as iron.

"Good. Grandpa will wait."

Standing once more, Yang Wudi turned toward the several hundred clansmen in the square. He spread his arms wide, his voice booming like a great bell.

"Today, the Breaking Clan has gained a Twin Martial Souls genius! This is the greatest joyous occasion our clan has seen in six years! I, Yang Wudi, hereby announce—"

He paused, his gaze sharp as lightning as it swept across the crowd.

"My grandson, Yang Jian, shall from this day onward be the young clan chief of the Breaking Clan! When he comes of age, he shall become the new clan chief of the Breaking Clan!"

His voice, wrapped in Soul Power, echoed endlessly through the square. After a brief silence, thunderous cheers erupted across the square.

"Young Clan Chief!"

"Young Clan Chief!"

"Young Clan Chief!"

Several hundred people shouted in unison, their voices shaking the heavens.

Those Soul-Breaker Spears seemed to sense their owners' excitement as well. They all trembled, letting out a low hum.

Yang Jian stood amid the waves of cheers. The Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear in his hand grew faintly warm, while the vertical eye between his brows slowly closed.

He looked at the excited faces before him, at those expectant gazes, yet his heart remained calm.

Clear Sky Sect, Spirit Hall...

Just wait. One day, I, Yang Jian, will personally come to your gates and pay each of you a visit!