Qin Yang stood at the edge of the cliff for a long time. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that the World of the Dead was not the final resting place the living imagined it to be.
More likely, it was endless torment. These people endured such suffering perhaps for the tiny, distant shred of hope hidden amid the pain and torture.
Qin Yang did not think the Emperor Ying was pretending to be stupid. His obsession had transformed into thirty-six Malicious Mountains; that was not something he could fake.
In truth, whether the Emperor Ying was pretending or not no longer mattered. His earlier actions had already made his stance clear.
Qin Yang did not want to form another grudge with him either. When a person died, their debts vanished; once they had died and been sent on, past grudges were wiped clean in a single stroke, dispersing like smoke.
So long as the Emperor Ying's obsession was not to slaughter him, it did not matter whether he was playing dumb.
His reaction earlier had indeed been a little excessive. The Emperor Ying was truly the strongest opponent Qin Yang had ever encountered, practically invincible.
Especially considering how strong the Emperor Ying had been when he died—Qin Yang had not really sensed it himself.
At the time, the whole map had been silenced, and the Emperor Ying had been nothing more than a target. After Qin Yang erupted with all his strength, he had paid with his life to stab the Emperor Ying to death with that final sword.
That could only reveal so much from the side.
Without the whole-map silence restricting him, if Qin Yang encountered the Emperor Ying again, the odds of being crushed to death one-handed by him would be extremely