Qin Yang held the Palace Lord by the collar, expressionless, his gaze icy. After the outburst, every emotion had been pressed down again. He clearly felt towering fury filling his chest, yet he was astonishingly calm.
Though he had not used the Thinking Art, his thoughts kept accelerating.
Everything around him slowly began to move in slow motion in his eyes.
He began to coolly consider what his goal was.
At the most fundamental level, his goal was no longer simply to survive.
Most of the time, in order to live, he could abandon many things: treasures, cultivation arts, skill books, grudges, opportunities...
When survival was at stake, he could cast all of those things aside.
But as he grew stronger and stronger, what he wanted was no longer merely to stay alive.
The greatest difference between humans and deities was that, sometimes, there were things more important to humans than survival or victory.
Like now.
Qin Yang looked at the world around him, which seemed to be slowing further and further. He looked at Twelve's true body, then at the Palace Lord, whose shattered body was still slowly recovering.
Then he looked at the smiling Heavenly Emperor Tai Hao, who seemed utterly satisfied.
He set himself a small goal.
Take Twelve away.
Make Tai Hao unable to smile ever again.
Make every one of his plans fail.
As for whether he himself lived or died, that was unimportant.
Qin Yang was no longer angry. He became increasingly calm. Anger made people lose their reason; if he had possessed the Wrath Art—
He would absolutely have let his towering rage burn through even himself.
Then he would have beaten Tai Hao to death with his bare hands.
But when anger was useless, Qin Yang had to think about how he