No armed forces were found around their temporary tents.

Except for a few weirdly dressed Brahmins wandering around, there are no other living people.

Although it was noon, the sun was hanging high in the sky.

But these reporters couldn't feel any warmth.

The plateau in winter is a hellish existence.

The bitter cold wind blew across the face like a knife.

The heat emitted from the body quickly dissipates.

Everyone held their shoulders, trembling with cold.

At high altitudes, every move requires more strength to support it.

Even a few simple steps will make an ordinary person breathe a lot of tiredness.

At this moment, media reporters carried cameras and gathered together in groups of three or five, whispering.

"Damn the ghost weather, this is simply Satan's paradise and hell on earth."

A reporter complained in a low voice, his head huddled in his down jacket.

"God, what are we here for? The Yanhuang army did not appear, and the Indian army did not appear. There were only a few Brahmins in front of us. Such reports are loved by ghosts."

Another reporter who endured the cold wind rubbed his hands hard.

In the breath, you could almost hear the sound of condensed into ice.

"It's really a ghost. There is news that the Yanhuang people sent out their troops to disperse them, but we couldn't even see the ghosts. Those damn Indians dared to restrict our freedom. God, we are journalists, the uncrowned king."

Journalists from Western countries have high interview autonomy.

But now, they were actually restricted to such a small area by these backward Asans.

This situation made them feel a great shame.

"Those gangs of Indians are even more hateful than the Yanhuang people. If someone hadn't said hello, I must expose their ugly behavior."
Chapter completed!