Hearing these words, the once-excited paparazzi put down their equipment one by one. Everyone felt a chilling wind sweep aggressively across their backs. He truly was a man who wielded absolute power in Aethelgard. His tone just now had been gentle and refined, but every word hid a sharp blade. They certainly didn't want to risk their respective magazines being shut down; after all, they still had families to feed.
At this moment, standing at the very front, a woman wearing a baseball cap fearlessly raised her microphone. Holding a voice recorder in her other hand, she stepped forward and pointed the mic right at Julian Winslow's icy, thin lips.
"Mr. Winslow, I understood everything you just said. But even at the risk of the magazine getting shut down and my own unemployment, I still want to ask Mr. Winslow one question."
The woman's voice was relatively clear. The brim of her hat was pulled low, making it difficult to see her face.
