As that strange energy coursed through Xiao Yan's body, a faint brilliance gradually flickered between his eyebrows. A seamlessly natural pattern faintly and slowly emerged, closely followed by several other lines that seemed to trail right behind it.
The speed at which Xiao Yan traced his clan mark was extremely fast. The first stroke, the second stroke, the third stroke... Each stroke took shape slowly between his brows like a fissure scorched by flames.
In the blink of an eye, he reached the eighth stroke. Once the eighth stroke of the clan mark was complete, Xiao Yan smoothly proceeded to draw the ninth.
The ninth stroke could be called the most difficult part of the entire process. Once an error occurred, all previous efforts would go to waste. Yet for Xiao Yan, who possessed a Half-Step Heaven Realm soul and a Martial Dao Space, the risk of a mistake did not exist at all.
His Soul Power was like a precisely manipulated hand; every inch of movement was just right, and every ounce of force was accurate to the ultimate degree.
Just as the final dot of that last stroke fell, an abstruse purplish-red clan mark suddenly appeared on Xiao Yan's forehead!
That clan mark was like a flower of flame blooming between his eyebrows, with a purplish-red light circulating among the patterns. It exuded an ancient and noble majesty, like an ancient behemoth slumbering deep within his bloodline that had finally opened its eyes.
Along with the completion of the clan mark's tracing, Xiao Yan's cultivation within his body climbed once more, abruptly reaching the three-turn Dou Zong stage. His aura was more than twice as strong as before.
That climbing power was like a released torrent, surging and churning through his meridians, scouring everything in its path and