The war correspondents staggered out of the cabin with the sour smell of vomit, and what awaited them was a long tunnel. The gray-black ceiling made of alloy and the floor were three rows of bright white light tubes that extended from the entrance to the interior. The thick air gates were tightly closed to completely separate them from the cold vacuum. However, this protection was not perfect. The artificial air pressed and heated was filled with the ozone smell emitted by the disinfectant. However, after an hour of extreme bumps, all war correspondents agreed that this was much better than the sour and stinky air in the cabin.

All war correspondents were used to running around the earth on the planet on a plane, but this time they had a completely different experience when riding on this plane without windows: at first they were all pressed on the seats by the speed of the plane and were unable to move. Then the violently climbed the plane made everyone's hearts rise. The overly straightforward way of climbing made everyone unable to bear it. Until they floated up from the seats, some people began to vomit violently because they could not bear it. Then there was a chain reaction, even if the pressure maintenance system and air circulation system on the plane worked hard, the sour smell could not be completely eliminated.

Some people even cried because of this embarrassment.

When they fell into the seats again due to gravity, everyone looked terrible, like a messy stray dog ​​on a rainy day, full of garbage. Some people regarded the journey as a humiliation, just as the Rebels treated war correspondents, which was deliberately done by them; some people believed that they discovered the truth, because the gravity of the destination that the more than an hour journey seemed to be slightly lower than that of the earth, and even after suffering physical torture, they could walk down the ramp door with brisk steps (not all of them left voluntarily, and some journalists were willing to leave the aircraft when the escort soldiers pointed at the forehead).

Outside the cabin ramp, there were five soldiers wearing black bulletproof armor, gas masks and crimson goggles waiting for them, and the war correspondents saw these soldiers holding high-tech laser weapons they had seen in the hands of the soldiers of the Resistance Army. All the common sense they had seen seemed to have no effect on the Latovian Resistance Army. When they approached the answer, they kept moving away from the answer because of their inherent thinking - no fanatical religious superstition, no race and language barriers, everything seemed to be

They all imply that this is a very modern organization, which is very different from those supported by the Central Intelligence Agency in the Middle East or Afghanistan. Among them, a soldier in the black armor spoke to the escort soldiers first. His voice seemed very inhumane after being isolated from a fully enclosed mask. However, his tone was full of liveliness. This strange feeling made people feel very different. "Sergeant Fabian, did you fight with a wild cat in the garbage dump?" he said, "Do you know, you can have enough food if you don't need to be a homeless man."

"Shut up, these guys are yours!" The escorted soldier had no good expression, and I don't know if it was because of the ridicule of his friends or because he had also endured the torture of the aircraft. Even so, he completed the handover procedures. "Let me find two people to help clean the cabin. If the ground logistics department sees what it looks like there, they might kill me."

"Good luck, brother. But don't be too happy too early. After we refilled their stomach sacs, they might share it with the cabin again. I believe you will definitely get a share. Come with me, you group of dreary and dirty water dogs." The leading black-armored soldier greeted the sour and smelly war correspondents to follow their steps. The other four soldiers slowed down and fell behind a little, quietly surrounding the war correspondents. Even the slowest people understood what was going on. The panic spread quietly in the war correspondents, but some people remained calm, which made the black-armored soldiers quite satisfied.

"Don't worry, your life is worthless to us. Your role is to help our Lord pass on His words to the world. But before that, please hand over your camera equipment. We are not interested in the pictures you have taken, but we still have to disinfect your backward equipment. You have also seen that we are in outer space now. Yes, obedience is loyalty. Come with me, and you will see what you want to see, no matter what that is."

“How should we call you?”

"I actually forgot to introduce myself!" The tone of the black-armored soldier was full of pretentious surprise, "But I don't mind satisfying your first question. Children always need encouragement to grow up, right? I am Louis Salvador, the 1st Assault Squad, the 3rd Company of the First Secret Regiment of Finbury Winter, and also the guide for your visit this time."

"We're in a space station now, are we?"

"Yes, Mr. Ramish." Louis El Salvador said as he walked, without looking back.

"You are not actually Latovinian rebels, right? I mean, you are not entirely a rebel group composed of locals. No anti-government armed forces in the world have such technical strength and wealth. Even those countries do not have the ability to use a vehicle to jump from Earth to space. Who are you, what do you want to do?"

Ramish Diaz's series of questions seemed a bit aggressive, and some war correspondents were full of curiosity and began to worry that he would be killed on the spot. However, Louis Salvador seemed to have endless patience, saying: "Patient, patient, you go and take a shower first, change your clothes and have a full meal. You have time to know what you want to know, but only if you have enough energy to follow up, my Lord doesn't want you to starve here."

This chapter is not finished yet, please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content behind! "Your master?"

"Yes, yes, our master. You and your boss, you and the bank you borrow and buy a house are both master-servant relationships, aren't we? Our master will not try to suck every drop of blood from you like your master. You are just a cow that can continuously produce wealth to your master. All our master wants is our loyalty. He wants us to give everything for his grand ideals, and that's all, and we are willing to give because we don't want anyone in this world to draw wealth from someone like you, because we want everyone to realize their own

Value, assume your own social responsibility - to contribute everything to the survival of the human race, forge everyone into steel, instead of indulging in false freedom in false news and entertainment until death." Louis Salvador stopped in the arc corridor, "Get your own access card, and everyone has a room. You have thirty minutes to wash and change clothes, and my soldiers will take you to fill your stomach and bring you to me. Don't have more curiosity, burning corpses in space is not a pleasant thing, don't cause us trouble."

"Why did you let the war correspondents know so much?" Hammurabi asked, with his head on his side. Opposite him, the Immortal City monarch was sitting in a seat that suited their size, as his guards, without wearing a seat belt, because the magnetic motor of the power armored steel boots secured them firmly to the cabin floor. "Don't you think that revealing too many secrets at once will make the enemy understand us?"

The assault transport boat bumped a little. "Even if we can clear the other party's command center in an instant, Latovigna cannot bear the price." Unlike the high spirits in the speech, the Salomon in the assault transport boat looked more like an ordinary person. Victor von Doom, who was sitting next to him, nodded and followed Salomon's words.
Chapter completed!