Chapter 247: Chapter 167: Answering Questions from the Press

It was evident that Mr. Owl had come with a mission.

His opening question was a direct hit, probing the truth about Duan Mingyuan’s relationship with the United Front and whether it was true that he was being called the spiritual leader by the rebels. He also emphasized that this was an issue of concern throughout the entire universe, with people from different civilizations eager to know about the deeds of this spiritual leader.

Because of this, a journalist from the Peace Dove News Agency took on the assignment under dangerous conditions, risking their life to bring their flying vehicle close to the rebel spiritual leader’s ship, in an effort to present the most authentic Duan Mingyuan to the universe.

However, before setting off, Duan Mingyuan had already thoroughly studied the skills many important figures in the universe used when responding to journalists.

"Fake news," "Next question."

Now, Duan Mingyuan had mastered these two responses to perfection.

But for Mr. Owl, this interview was destined not to be pleasant.

Although Duan Mingyuan accepted his interview, his attitude was unyielding throughout, even when Mr. Owl presented photos of the planetary surfaces destroyed by the Iron Guard Consortium, recounting how numerous unarmed civilians had died in this war, Duan Mingyuan remained unmoved.

Compared to the outspoken rebel leaders who welcomed speaking out, this guy was simply like a politician!

Of course, Mr. Owl did not deny that he had ulterior motives.

His were typical leading questions, even if Duan Mingyuan and the rebels of the United Front were indeed uninvolved, these photos and the horrific death toll were bound to evoke sympathy, and even an involuntary desire to denounce the inhumane orbital cannon strikes by the Iron Guard Consortium fleet.

By doing so, it would position Duan Mingyuan’s stance alongside the rebels.

In Mr. Owl’s view, this represented the best use of journalism in an era of information overload—every reported news item was the result of careful selection by the reporter and the editor-in-chief. Although they were all facts, they could lead to entirely different interpretations based on the angle of explanation and the manner of expression.

The entire universe was experiencing a battle of perspectives.

In reality, few people cared about what the truth was; they just hoped to read what they wished to see in the news.

For instance, in this case, people hoped for a confirming response from Duan Mingyuan, something like, "My heart stands with the people of the United Front," a fine sentiment.

Mr. Owl had long mastered the secrets of journalism; whatever he did was never for the sake of truth, but rather to meet the expectations of the readers of the Peace Dove Daily.

Seeing this as a rare opportunity, he did not want to give up just yet, "According to the latest news received by the news agency yesterday, the current head-on conflicts between the Iron Guard Consortium and the United Front have turned five planets into lifeless ’Dead Stars.’ What is your opinion on this?"

"Fake news."

"No, these are real figures. If you have any objections, I can show you firsthand intelligence from the United Front."

"Then, next question."

Is that all you can say, just these two sentences?!

Mr. Owl’s eyelids twitched violently several times.

"Fine, let’s change the question then. How long do you predict this war will last?"

"It will last until it is about to end, next question."

"You haven’t directly answered any question from start to finish!" Mr. Owl found it difficult to maintain his composure any longer. The man in front of him was not just a politician, but also a master of gibberish literature, "Then what about the highly-anticipated Sixteen Stars Summit? Do you plan to put the issues of the United Front on the table during the summit? As far as I know, the repressive policies implemented by the Iron Guard Consortium over the past decades have caused dissatisfaction among many, and some have even called this war a ’corporate retaliation war.’ I just want to let you know that there are many supporters of yours in this universe. Don’t you want to say something to them?"

Duan Mingyuan listened leisurely to Mr. Owl’s increasingly intense tone. He really wanted to advise the other party not to rush.

However, considering that the other party had come from afar, Duan Mingyuan felt a twinge of compassion and this time decided not to dismiss the questions with just a few words.

He straightened his expression and replied, "You know, I’m just focused on what’s at hand. I know it’s tough, I wish them luck, let’s see what happens next."

The interview was over.

This response was the final straw that broke Mr. Owl, the reporter from the Peace Dove News Agency. He left the ship in a huff without even enjoying the exquisite delicacies on the Ranger, and returned to his own flying vehicle.

But he had not given up.

This would become a follow-up report—no matter how well-versed Duan Mingyuan was in gibberish literature, he would inevitably have to articulate his and Blue Star’s position once the Sixteen Peaks Summit began, unless their journey was purely for tourism.

Although the spots were precious, the news agency should be able to secure a reporter’s spot at the summit.

"What a pity."

Jiuyue sat opposite Duan Mingyuan and couldn’t help but express her regret, "I picked out these delicacies myself."

Mr. Owl missed out on the fine cuisine from Blue Star, and he didn’t become part of the cuisine either, which she found quite regrettable.

Her way of expressing regret was to pick up a plate of braised duck tongues, place it on her lap, and chew with relish.

Another regret was that Mr. Owl did not interview her. When she went back to the kitchen for the delicacies, Jiuyue had prepared several representative stories about Ogres.

But soon, her attention shifted back to the braised duck tongues.

Mr. Mingyuan was right; instead of worrying about the people of the United Front, they should concentrate on what’s at hand. "Mr. Mingyuan, try this, the braised duck tongues are delicious!"

She offered the spicy duck tongue to the man sitting opposite her, Duan Mingyuan, her eyes filled with anticipation, "What do you think? Isn’t the spicy sensation exciting?"

"You know, spicy duck tongues are usually spicy."

?

Jiuyue cocked her head, a large question mark virtually floating above her tiny noggin.

She had no idea what Duan Mingyuan was talking about.

Had Mr. Mingyuan... broken?

Just as she hesitated over whether she should take Duan Mingyuan back to his room for a thorough checkup, he finally returned to normal and commented, "It tastes good."

............

After dealing with the reporters from the Peace Dove News Agency, the voyage in the following week was smooth sailing.

There were no encounters with cosmic pirates, nor were they obstructed by those terrifying space creatures from the rumors.

There was a "Guide to Dangerous Creatures in the Universe" on the nightstand in Duan Mingyuan’s room, written by a famous interstellar explorer. Recently, Jiuyue had been burying her head under the covers every night to read this book. When she reached a tense passage, the little fox would burrow non-stop into his arms, her tail curling around his legs like a rope.

There were still many unknown creatures in the universe.

Like locust swarms that blanketed the skies, or the space ogres larger than planets, the book detailed many cosmic creatures that had once caused defeat to corporate fleets.

Duan Mingyuan felt that the tranquility of this journey owed much to Jiuyue’s efforts.

As an interstellar explorer, he suggested that every flagship invite a Ruihu aboard before setting sail. The innate fortune of Ruihu would protect the flagship from dangerous cosmic creatures or any other disasters that science could not yet explain.

In this process, Duan Mingyuan understood why so many suffered from Space Travel Syndrome.

Interstellar travel was not as romantic and pleasant as people imagined. In the course of the voyage, the concepts of time and space would gradually blur, with everything outside the windows remaining unchanged. Only the continuously changing numbers on the control panel reminded them that they were getting closer and closer to their destination.

Mechanical Star, Ling Long’s homeland.

A planet that had birthed countless outstanding mechanical masters.

The briefing stated that the location of the summit was one of the richest cities in the universe, but when the Ranger approached Mechanical Star’s surface, Duan Mingyuan and everyone on board felt they had been duped.

The Blue Star People’s imagination of wealth included beaches, oceans, and glamorous, super-five-star hotels; however, all that met their eyes at that moment was a vast desert.

"Are you sure the navigation beacon isn’t malfunctioning?"

Staring at the endless desert, the Third Prince asked.

With three days to go before the summit opened, he had planned to check into the super-five-star hotel on the Throne of Mechanism once the Ranger landed, and to let Cai Die slip into the swimsuit he had carefully prepared to fully enjoy a vacation in a foreign land.

Interstellar travel truly wears down one’s will.

But now, not only could they not find a super-five-star hotel or an outdoor swimming pool, they couldn’t even spot a ghost of a shadow on the surface.

"The beacon indicates that this place is Mechanical Star."

Hearing this, the crew members immediately turned their gaze to Ling Long, since among them was a native of Mechanical Star.

"It wasn’t like this in the photos."

Ling Long was just as bewildered as the rest. She took out a photo she had brought from home to show everyone.

Over the past few decades, Mechanical Star seemed to have undergone tremendous changes, to the extent that a boundless desert was all one could see across the entire planet.

After flying close to the ground for nearly twenty minutes, they found the first small town.

Centrally located in the desert, the town was filled with dilapidated mud houses, a handful of residents, and an air of desolation.

Duan Mingyuan landed the Ranger on an empty plot outside the town. As he got closer, he saw that the townspeople seemed to be still using animals as a means of transportation. Next to the largest house in town, there was an old pickup truck parked, but it seemed to have been abandoned for a long time.

As Duan Mingyuan and his party approached, the townspeople swarmed around them as if they had seen their saviors enveloping them completely.

Pleas and murmurs were incessant.

The skin of the townspeople was dark and weathered, lips cracked, and many showed signs of dehydration to varying degrees.

"Water, do you have water on your flying vehicle?"

"We can trade with something from our town."

"Take whatever you want, just give us water..."

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by Aunomay Read