"I didn't come here to say these things to you!"
Fuxi climbed up the mountain and said with a serious expression, "Call a truce. The Human Race are all brothers and sisters, descendants of the same ancestors. In the Primordial Wilderness World, our Human Race was never particularly strong to begin with. Why did we have to turn our weapons against each other?"
"There was no hatred or conflict between us."
"Why not let it end here?"
He stopped a few meters in front of Futian.
His face was full of sincerity.
"A truce?"
"Let it end here?"
Futian lowered his head to look at this short fellow clansman and revealed a cold, scornful smile.
"You are too weak!"
"And do you know that a truce is only chosen when both sides are evenly matched and unable to do anything to each other? They stop fighting to recuperate, then wait until their own forces grow strong enough to wipe out the enemy in one stroke!"
"It is not for when you are weak and useless, yet I still have to yield to you!"
"Fuxi, you are far too weak. You only have the cultivation of the Peak Earth Immortal Realm. How did you manage to rule such vast lands along the East Sea Coast?"
"What a waste. Such an utter waste!!"
"With such a vast territory, how many resources would that be? How glorious could it have been? But look at you. What were you even wearing? You were no different from those impoverished slaves. What right did you have to call yourself the Human Race Co-Lord!!"
Futian looked Fuxi over with contempt.
He was utterly disgusted.
This Human Race Co-Lord from the north wore neither magnificent battle armor nor expensive brocade robes.
What he wore—
was nothing more than