Romm was a seasoned veteran who had struggled for so long. No wonder he still knew exactly how far to go, even now.
Fu Qian naturally didn't think Lord Romm had suddenly developed such convenient hearing problems.
As a god who had always taken the initiative to interact with lower beings, he couldn't possibly lack an understanding of social niceties.
And judging by what he'd done earlier, the fact that he'd thought to exploit a blind spot to launch a sneak attack proved he not only knew this place very well, but also understood his current state of supernatural isolation.
In short, whether he seemed dazed or not, Lord Romm was perfectly clearheaded. His talking to himself had been deliberate.
As for the reason?
Why act so rudely when he clearly wanted to make peace?
It wasn't strange. You'd never win peace by endlessly lowering your stance.
He'd already put all his bargaining chips for avoiding a fight on the table: I'm no threat to you, killing me won't help, and it might even get your hands dirty...
Once he'd conveyed all that, anything else would just be gilding the lily. So why answer any questions?
Everyone was always driven by cold, hard self-interest. Did he really expect to win a little goodwill that way?
How could anyone who'd been around the block have such a naive idea?
On the contrary, that sort of posture would only undermine the credibility of everything he'd just said.
So Lord Romm had not only memorized his lines in advance, he'd also laid out his strategy clearly: list the pros and cons, then play dead right there and let Fu Qian do whatever he wanted.
For example, after finishing his last sentence, he'd gone completely silent. He hadn't even asked what Fu Qian thought.