Tian Wuyun really was an out-and-out chatterbox.
Qin Shaofeng had merely asked one question, yet she had rattled on without pause for half an hour.
Fortunately, what she said was precisely what Qin Shaofeng was desperate to learn, so he did not interrupt her again.
Under the influence of Tian Wuyun's chattering, the topic kept branching out from Qin Shaofeng's initial question.
Not only did she explain every question he had asked, she even threw in a great deal of additional information.
Simply put,
Tian Wuyun had only heard of the truly strongest existences in this world they called the Lost World—or, rather, the Demon Realm. Everything she knew about them was nothing but hearsay.
As for why Qin Shaofeng and the others had been forcibly brought here, she understood even less.
And the world they now lived in truly was just as Tian Wuyun called it: a forgotten world.
It had not merely been abandoned by humanity. It was more like it had been abandoned by every intelligent race.
Tian Wuyun had lived for more than one hundred and thirty thousand years.
Not only her, but even the enemies her forebears had fought were the same sort of creatures they fought today—monsters like crawling torsos, devoid of the slightest intelligence, knowing neither exhaustion nor weariness, as though they had appeared solely to wipe out everything.
As the number of humans steadily dwindled,
even now, she had no idea how many humans still existed in this world.
The group she currently led numbered more than three thousand people.
That number seemed quite large.
Yet what truly made Qin Shaofeng's scalp prickle was that all three thousand of them were warriors who could never stop fighting.
Although they did get time to rest, it was far, far too little.
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