Upon hearing that, the high-ranking officials in Conference Room One, as well as the civilians anxiously waiting in their residential spacecraft, all felt their hearts leap into their throats.
First, highlight the benefits and the value of one's own side to entice the other party, and then present one's own chips—this is the standard negotiation process. And now, the most crucial stage, concerning the survival of one's own civilization and the personal interests of every individual, has arrived!
Whether their side would commit suicide, become slaves, or still live freely, depended on this moment!
The Mechanical Disaster's reply came after a moment of silence. It was a silence that felt heavier than gravity. In that brief pause, the only sound in the conference room was the rhythmic humming of the air recyclers and the terrified, shallow breathing of the generals. Sweat beaded on foreheads, glistening under the harsh tactical lights.
"Oh? Tell me your conditions."
