Things did not develop in a better direction because of Qin Yang's complaints.
The body condensed from faint smoke carried a trace of Qin Yang's consciousness, not his complete consciousness.
Though it looked as though his consciousness had returned from the World of the Dead, that was all it was.
Tribulation lightning gathered in the sky. Thunder surged, wind and fire whirled, and fine raindrops like countless golden needles fell first.
Among tangible Heavenly Tribulations, this was one of the most formidable. Clearly, this world wanted to erase him from existence as swiftly and thoroughly as possible.
Qin Yang was somewhat speechless. Of course, he was not complaining about the Heavenly Tribulation itself. Even if it was only a trace of consciousness appearing in the world of the living, it still counted as crossing the boundary between life and death.
What left him speechless was that there was no need for such a grand display. He was not planning to do anything, and he could not do much anyway.
It was only an interdimensional video chat. Was this really necessary?
Qin Yang silently calculated when the Heavenly Tribulation would descend, then looked at the Spirit Incense that had already burned more than halfway down and estimated the shortest time he could remain.
In the blink of an eye, Qin Yang calculated that he could probably remain for half an incense stick's time.
Looking down, Qin Yang reached out, wanting to touch Little Seventh's head. They had not seen each other for hundreds of years, and Little Seventh had grown thin. Her bun face was nearly gone. Her old bun face had looked so nice.
Unfortunately, before he could touch her, the hand formed from smoke scattered apart first.
"Qin Yang!" Little Seventh raised her little head and stood on tiptoe,