Peace talks?
Zhang Yang instinctively moved to refuse. You've got to be kidding me. But right afterward, the Heavenly Dao Maiden added, "Twelve thousand years ago, they were also randomly exiled here from the Eight Desolations: Land of Exile."
Those words struck Zhang Yang like a bolt from the blue. He stood dazed for more than ten full seconds, because the amount of information was simply too overwhelming.
However, he did not rush to ask anything else at that moment. He ignored the other side's request for peace talks and instead directly examined the information he had spent five precious seconds purchasing back then.
A moment later, his hands and feet turned cold. Naturally, there seemed to be no hidden danger in the information. It merely stated that any wandering civilization that drifted here would be given three thousand years to recuperate and rebuild. Once the civilization's strength reached a certain threshold, or once the three thousand years were up, it would be randomly teleported away.
At the time, Zhang Yang had been confident that he possessed the Boat of Death and would not need to worry about this so-called random teleportation. Who could have imagined that their recuperation and development would be so outstanding that the entire world would transform into a Law World, one the Boat of Death could no longer carry? In the end, they could only be randomly exiled in their haste.
But what the hell was random exile supposed to mean?
"All right, then let's talk."
Zhang Yang exhaled a breath of stale air and issued the order. Without a doubt, he had been struck by a pie that fell from the sky and had consequently tumbled straight into a pit.
Yet just as he was preparing to set out and negotiate with the Heavenly