Working as a police officer in Mexico
Chapter 887 - 469: I Admit You Guys are Fierce, but I Cheat!_3

"Can you tell me where your command headquarters is?"

"Cough, cough, cough…" The U.S. Army Lieutenant choked for a moment, then raised his head to look at the Mexican officer in front of him. He frowned, paused, and answered calmly, "You won't be able to make it there. The 103rd Infantry Division's headquarters is in Guadalupe Mountains National Park, over 200 kilometers away from here."

Captain Fedorovich furrowed his brows but still offered a word of thanks. He glanced at the setting sun, tossed his cigarette aside, and ordered, "Alright, get in the vehicles! Head back!"

The captured U.S. soldiers had their hands tied with ropes, dispersed, and thrown onto trucks that began driving toward the rear camp. Nighttime is not suitable for tank combat—it's an unspoken rule.

Don't let the tanks' impressive look fool you; they are, in fact, quite fragile.

Why don't we see much tank army group charges anymore?

Iraq tried it, and the United States taught them the meaning of air superiority. Bullying nations without tanks or heavy firepower is feasible.

But the firepower of both the U.S. and Mexico is enough to bury Canada in rubble.

Moreover, in modern warfare, the vulnerability of tanks to infantry weapons is increasingly evident. Everyone knows: without its tracks, this thing is nothing but useless "scrap metal." So generally, tanks' usage rate is low at night or under extreme weather conditions—not nonexistent, but rare.

Back at the camp, cheers erupted when their comrades spotted the towed-back M1A1.

The unit leader, Otto Karius, hurried over and vigorously slapped Captain Fedorovich on the shoulder, saying, "Well done! I will report your achievements to the Fourth Army Headquarters. You might just become Major Fedorovich soon!"

"Thank you, Commander!" Fedorovich, flushed with excitement, shouted energetically.

"Commander, I also got some news: the 103rd Infantry Division's headquarters is 200 kilometers away..."

Otto Karius frowned. "Why so far? Why not set up their headquarters in Washington? That 103rd Division is worthless!"

Nearby, a few U.S. prisoners of war looked visibly uncomfortable but kept their heads down without daring to speak.

"Let's go eat first. I'll coordinate with allied forces afterward."

"Yes, Commander!"

…

"Urgent report from Tamaulipas!"

A phone call and a message were immediately delivered to Defense Minister Kennedy's desk.

"The U.S. Fourth Fleet is shelling Lasamolina."

"Also, 15 minutes ago, two regiments of the U.S. Marine Corps 3rd Division launched amphibious assaults from Cape Jerez and Sotolamarina."

Kennedy rushed to the map. "Which unit is stationed there?"

"The 179th Division of the 5th Army, led by Major General Otto Moritz Walter Model," the staff officer quickly replied. "Both sides are already engaged in combat."

"Connect me to the front line."

The staff officer promptly made the call, and the 179th Division's command center quickly picked up.

"Hello? Hello! This is Mexico City—Kennedy speaking."

"Commander, sir!"

"You absolutely must hold the line for at least 16 hours. Reinforcements are en route."

Boom!

An explosion roared from the other side, and the sound flickered faintly.

"Commander and General, rest assured! I'm here in Tamaulipas!"

"Good. I'll have the Air Force provide support. Absolutely hold out for 16 hours."

After hanging up, Kennedy's brow remained furrowed. "What are the odds the Fourth Fleet strikes at this exact moment? The 5th Army's main force has just gone south."

A single division resisting the U.S. Navy fleet + Marine Division—Kennedy wasn't sure if they could hold.

If they couldn't, the fall of Tamaulipas would mean their flank getting breached.

The U.S. military... too many troops and far too powerful.

Mexico's forces... nowhere near sufficient.

"I need to report to the General. Connect with the Staff Department and schedule a meeting immediately upon my return."

The secretary saluted and replied promptly.

Meanwhile, Victor was smoking quietly...

Anyone who looked at the cigarette butts on the ground and the trash bin could deduce...

He had smoked a lot.

This was his third pack.

But even now, he couldn't suppress the excitement surging in his heart.

At this moment, his heart rate had likely soared past 140 beats per minute.

Because...

He struck gold!

The "Golden Finger" interface showed points: 47,700,000,000!

Eight zeros—he had counted them over and over again.

His hands were trembling; never in his life had he been this wealthy...

Adding Reagan's 3.3 billion, his total exceeded 50 billion points!

For a long time, he'd craved a particular item.

He navigated to the "Weapons - Explosives" section and scrolled to the bottom.

Finally, his eyes settled on a large spherical object approximately 3 meters long and 0.7 meters in diameter.

His gaze hardened as he studied its price...

Holy hell...

48 billion points! (Including all worldwide production methods.)

"[Confirm purchase]?"

"[Yes!]"

...

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