Here, it was frighteningly quiet.
Inside this multifunctional portable wilderness-survival master safe house called Wisdom Style, Tyrant Dragon was working hard to digest what Di Qinglong had said.
So Tyrant Dragon decided to open a bottle of chilled beer and calm down.
Pop—!
The instant he opened the pull tab, the sound of expanding gas rang out loudly. Tyrant Dragon suddenly asked, as if someone had pressed his restart button, "Wait, you've been here for a year... what the hell?"
"Literally what I said." Di Qinglong appeared much calmer. "I arrived in this world nearly a year before you... but theoretically, we should have been taken away by the treasure box's power at the same time."
"...Can that thing send people over in batches?" Tyrant Dragon's mouth fell open in shock.
"How would I know?" Di Qinglong shook his head. "I can only make that guess based on the information we have. After all, the treasure box has always been in Master's hands. Perhaps only he knows how it works."
Tyrant Dragon suddenly said, "I once heard Dead Baldy say that the damn box seemed to be broken. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn't..."
"..."
"Hey, hey... what's with that look like you regret saving me?"
"I regret saving you."
"..."
The four eyes glared at each other for a long time before Di Qinglong sighed. He lightly tapped the bottle in his hand against the table. "Forget it. I waited a whole year for this reunion. Let's count it as a celebration!"
They drank together.
Tyrant Dragon drained his bottle and let out a long sigh. "Refreshing! A drink after a fight really hits the spot! Right, Old Di, what's going on with this world? What was that Buddha Head I saw? What did you call it again,