"Those fierce beasts, are they members of your Tattoo Tree Clan?"
Zhou Xuan also gazed outside the town gate. The sky was dim and murky, and he could faintly see a few pairs of glowing red eyes.
The savage malice in those eyes made it hard to associate them with anything human.
"The Tattoo Tree Clan... has suffered a clan-destroying curse." Peng Sheng's hand trembled as he held his bowl of wine. He said, "Our Tree Clan's strength lies in tattoos. We have mastered the 'twenty-four divine pictures.' In our daily lives, aside from the Divine Images, we also create other tattoos."
In this sense, the Tree Clan is quite different from Zhou Xuan.
Zhou Xuan was not a tattoo enthusiast; he simply stumbled upon the Tattoo Hall by chance during the second incense burning. For him, tattoos were merely tools.
But for the Tree Clan, tattoos were both tools and life itself.
