Working as a police officer in Mexico
Chapter 921 - 483: The Victor Becomes King, the Defeated Are Bandits!! I refuse to accept this!!!_2

As soon as the door opened...

Six burly men stood outside, their gazes fierce as they stared at him.

The leader raised his credentials.

"Thirteen Protectors. You two—do you want to resist?"

The two Lieutenants turned pale instantly.

They silently extended their hands...

Not resisting at all, and not daring to resist!

Inside, there was a saying: the Thirteen Protectors don't fear your resistance; they fear you won't resist. Military authority grants them the privilege to act first and report afterward.

It's over...

The "442nd Regiment Organization" is about to be completely purged!

...

In the "Sonora Liberation Cemetery," located at the foot of a mountain 60 kilometers west of Hermosillo, the capital of Sonora State, over 500 fallen "anti-drug heroes" lay here.

Standing tall is a sculpture gazing into the distance, beneath which is inscribed his story:

"Alvarez de Crey, March 11, 1978 - July 21, 1990, formerly a cryptographic staff officer of the 442nd Infantry Regiment in Mexico's 64th Brigade, led an uprising on July 2nd, fought fiercely in the industrial zone, and died heroically in battle at the age of 22."

"I still remember... I personally wrote a letter to him, telling him the newborn nation needed him. He joined us without hesitation. And, without hesitation, he... sacrificed himself on the front lines, nearly two years ago."

Victor reached out and touched his face, his tone heavy, while Casare behind him maintained a solemn expression.

Covered in blood-stained clothing of the fallen and a drawing on white paper—that drawing depicted a blue sky, a family of four working on the ground, an elderly man smiling and leaning against the door frame, with a yellow dog crouching by his feet.

These remain preserved in the "Mexico Anti-drug Museum."

A great warrior!

Victor extended his hand, and his attendant poured the wine into a glass, but Victor grabbed it directly, saying, "No need for such formality."

He gently knocked the wine against the sculpture and raised a toast.

"I did not break my word, Alvarez. The drug traffickers no longer dare to appear in my territory. We no longer need to fear the switchgrass of our homeland turning into man-eating poison."

"And I did not betray the 442nd Regiment. Vasili has become Deputy Army Commander—he's only 26. I did right by them. But tell me, why is it... that humans can never be satisfied?"

Victor lifted his head and downed the entire bottle of wine in one gulp!

Liquid dripped down the corner of his mouth as the sculpture silently watched him...

"Boss, boss, stop drinking..." Casare tried to grab his hand, but Victor forcefully shook him off, leaving Casare standing there, helpless.

Victor finished the wine and smashed the bottle hard, his eyes slightly reddened. "Alvarez! No one can destroy the fruits of our labor. If a traitor appears on the path we march together—even if they're comrades, even if they're brothers!"

He paused, gritting his teeth, "I will unhesitatingly sever their heads!"

"Mexico is not mine alone—it belongs to ideals, to the world, and to every human who loves peace and freedom!"

"Don't hate me."

Victor gave the sculpture a firm hug. Though he seemed drunk, his determination felt like he had made some resolute decision.

Alvarez's sculpture stared at their departing figures, and at the corner of its eye... there seemed to be moisture?

On the path of companionship, someone is destined to stop walking...

Please don't be sad...

Our utopia will eventually be achieved!

Long live!

Casare followed behind his boss, sensing his deep sorrow. Though relationships may vary in closeness, for every person who fought for Mexico, Victor regarded them as brothers. How could he not?

All one can say is...

Human desires ultimately grow wild.

…

Tijuana, Fourth Army Headquarters!

Deputy Commander Vasili's face was gloomy, his right eyebrow twitching uncontrollably. He lifted his head to stare at the clock on the wall.

Why weren't they back yet?

Something happened?!!

His heart jolted, and he immediately stood up, feeling uneasy.

No—it's dangerous to stay here.

Ring-ring-ring~

The phone on the desk suddenly rang. He stared at it for a few seconds, then grabbed it. On the other end, someone urgently shouted, "Run!"

His face changed drastically, and the anxiety within him grew exponentially. He opened a drawer to grab a handgun, then turned to retrieve an MP5 submachine gun from his bookshelf. Filling a bullet pouch and wrapping it in his military uniform, he dashed out the door.

His first thought was to go to the 442nd Regiment of the 338th Division—his old unit's designation. He had used his position to provide them much assistance, and the regiment commander was loyal to him. Should he… rebel outright?

But the thought circled in his head once and vanished.

It wasn't realistic...

Staging a coup within the army? Outrageous...

If you tried, your own subordinates would probably kill you!

It's important to note that most of the tens of thousands of soldiers in the Fourth Army were recruits from Southern Baja California State—the first region to bask in Victor's "glory."

It's like...

The loyal sons of Chang'an in ancient times!

They were devoted legitimate followers. Trying to incite them to rebel against Victor? Impossible.

The moment you step outside, you'd be riddled with bullets.

Then flee to the United States!

Yes, as long as he crossed into U.S. territory and applied for asylum using his position, he would definitely survive. Moreover, he had value—he knew many secrets within the army.

A man of quick action, he immediately followed through.

Afraid the elevator might be too slow, he opted for the stairs.

Those he encountered greeted him, but he ignored everyone, appearing highly tense, confusing them.

Once downstairs, he sprinted toward a parked Humvee. As he was about to get in, someone shouted, "General Vasili, the commander is looking for you."

He squinted at the ten men led by General Rommel...

His nerves stretched to the breaking point, assuming they came to arrest him. He pulled out his handgun and fired!

Bang, bang, bang...

The secretary fell into a pool of blood instantly.

The loud gunshots triggered security forces nearby. The emergency squad rushed out to find Vasili driving away in the vehicle!

"Quick, get the wounded treated, report to the commander—Vasili has defected!" the officer in charge shouted in panic. "The rest of you, come chase him with me."

The Deputy Commander...

He was a high-ranking military leader.

How many of those does Mexico have now?

When Rommel heard the news, he was furious, immediately ordering troops to pursue: "Dead or alive!"

The emergency squad boarded vehicles and chased after him.

Vasili drove the Humvee against traffic, knocking over a mother and daughter riding bicycles on the roadside, crushing them entirely. Losing control of the steering wheel, he veered into a nearby Mercedes-Benz.

The loud crash attracted the attention of onlookers...

Seeing it was a military vehicle, some people stood by to watch.

"Child, are you okay? Are you hurt?" An elderly man nearby hurried over, noticing Vasili's military uniform, concerned and anxious.

But Vasili, consumed by madness, raised his gun and shot the man point-blank!!!!

The well-meaning people who intended to help scattered in fear. Vasili raised the MP5 submachine gun and began firing indiscriminately down the street, especially at the Mercedes in his way...

The driver—woman, young—was shredded instantly!

Insane! Insane! Insane!

The pursuing Fourth Army emergency squad panicked and opened fire on him. Vasili lacked the tactical abilities of a true "Tough Guy"—his corruption and greed had long dulled his combat edge...

Bang...

A bullet struck his shoulder. He cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground.

"Ahh! AHHHH!!!!"

Screaming with agony...

Two years ago during the "Industrial Zone Battle," Vasili had been a hardened fighter, taking three bullets without a groan. But now, two short years of good living had turned him into this.

The emergency squad's soldiers cautiously approached.

Desperation took hold of Vasili, who roared, "You're not taking me alive!!"

He tried to turn his gun on himself, but before he could pull the trigger, several shots rang out—his arm hit, immobilized.

"Kill me, kill me, KILL ME!!!"

He raved like a madman...

As if... drugged!

When reinforcements arrived, they saw the chaos strewn across the scene. Rommel's lips trembled, "Treat the wounded!"

Chief of Staff Fedor von Bock's face was grim. It's over—this incident would surely bring severe punishment to the Fourth Army!

He opened his mouth, looking toward his commander.

Rommel, having worked with him for years, understood the sentiment. Taking a deep breath, "Report this to the General—no cover-ups!"

"Yes!"

Fedor von Bock stared at the injured writhing on the ground, screaming in pain, his scalp tingling as he watched Vasili being dragged away. Unable to resist, he demanded, "Why? WHY!!"

The latter lifted his gaze, his eyes empty, devoid of humanity.

"I refuse! I REFUSE!!!"

"Victory belongs to kings, failure to scoundrels! Victory belongs to kings, failure to scoundrels!!!"

He shrieked like a madman.

...