A black sedan came speeding up.
It slowed to a stop at the entrance, giving a soft scrape.
The soldiers at the guesthouse entrance seemed to have received a signal. They hurried over, each turning their back to the car and forming a tight circle around it.
"Boom!"
The reporters at the scene erupted into a commotion. Everyone already had a pretty good idea who was inside the car. Like flies catching the scent of shit, they charged forward at a hundred-meter-sprint pace.
But the soldiers outside forcefully held them back.
The driver's door swung open, and an officer quickly stepped out. He bent down and opened the rear door.
A handsome young man emerged from the car.
"Click, click, click..."
In the next moment, countless blinding flashes erupted in a frenzy.
"Godchen, may I ask you a question?"
"Look over here!"
"I'm a reporter for the Washington Post in the United States. I heard you killed a true god. Is that true, or is it just propaganda?"
So many reporters!
Chen Shouyi's expression froze for a moment.
"Ch-Chief Chen, should we escort you inside?" a soldier asked nervously. These foreign reporters were such a nuisance. They stood guard outside the guesthouse every day like a pack of hyenas, and no matter how much they were chased off, they wouldn't leave.
Chen Shouyi glanced at him, puzzled.
Escort him? Why?
Then he said, "One at a time."
At his words, the reporters' fighting spirit surged. They looked like they'd been injected with stimulants as they shoved past the soldiers trying to hold them back.
In the next moment, countless microphones were thrust toward Chen Shouyi's mouth.
A female reporter was especially aggressive, claiming the best spot. She gazed at Chen Shouyi with shining eyes. "I'm Lucy, a reporter for the