Working as a police officer in Mexico

Birdsong in the sky carried a mournful cry.

In Michoacán, Apachegan laid on the riverbank downstream from Guadalajara.

This was also part of the regular turf of the Michoacán Family.

One often saw drug traffickers in pickup trucks, patrolling the area.

They were terrified, too, with the Northern Army just in Sinaloa State, guns pointed directly at their heads—it was probably too late to surrender.

But for the people at dawn, life still went on.

A local woman, laboring to drag a cart full of laundry that needed washing, her expression numb. She limped on her left leg, inconveniently hobbling along, her only means of livelihood being to wash clothes for the drug traffickers nearby.@@novelbin@@

As for the men...

Perhaps they had disappeared into any corner of Mexico along with the dandelions.

As she dragged the cart to the river, casting a casual glance, suddenly, her pupils dilated with horror and panic!

She collapsed onto the ground, frantically scooting back as her palms were pierced by gravel, unable to feel the pain, her mind blank. Finally, the screams trapped in her throat violently erupted.

"Help... Help!"

She ran back to the village in a panicked state, screaming at the top of her lungs, "Bodies, so many bodies!!"

The civilians in the village were confused, staring blankly at her.

Eventually, it was several members of the Michoacán Family stationed there who intercepted her. The woman looked at them as if they were her mainstay, "By the river... there are so many bodies!!"

The expressions of the traffickers changed in an instant, and they raced to the riverside in their vehicles.

Standing by the river dam, even they, seen-it-all and hardened, felt their scalps tingle at the sight before them. Experience more on My Virtual Library Empire

The river, three to four meters wide, was "clogged with corpses"!

Hundreds upon hundreds of bodies lay across the river, even damming the water flow. Have you ever seen a "giant's kettle"?

Could these bloated corpses still be used as fertilizer?

The traffickers looked at one another, and one, not the brightest, picked up a rock, took a deep breath, and hurled it at a giant's kettle!

"Hey! Don't..."

Someone beside him reached out in horror, trying to stop him, but it was too late; the rock had been thrown!

Well, now...

All one could say was, well, now.

Bang!!!

A crisp sound, and the giant's kettle exploded, setting off adjacent corpses as well. The air was suddenly "fragrantly perfumed."

"Ugh!!"

A trafficker couldn't help but bend over and vomit, his face a ghastly shade, desperately running backwards.

"Quick! Go and inform the boss!"

The discovery of thousands of bodies in the Apachegan River stirred an uproar throughout Michoacan and the rest of Mexico. When reporters with their equipment arrived in a rush, the traffickers had already sealed off the scene.

Osir Cardenas of the Michoacán Family, wearing sunglasses with a somber face, listened in silence along with his trusted aides to what the "forensic doctor" said.

"These people all have tattoos on their bodies, many marked with the flag of the Sinaloa Drug Cartel, and all their hands are tied. That is to say, they were captured before they died!"

"And they were driven into the river!"

The forensic doctor's voice trembled slightly saying these words—with good reason, there were thousands of people!

Osir Cardenas exchanged looks with his confidants, and a name suddenly flashed through his mind, "Victor!"

Hearing the boss say this name, everyone looked over.

"It must be him! The Northern Army, they must be slaughtering captives in Guadalajara!" Osir Cardenas clenched his teeth.

"What?!"

"Victor, doesn't he care about public opinion? This... this is just..." The confidant stuttered, at a loss for words.

Even he, a hitman for the Michoacán Family, was scared.

Osir Cardenas glanced at him, his face grim, "Do you think he cares?"

"The beast!"

"God won't forgive him, he will surely go to hell!"

Listening to the curses of his aides, Osir Cardenas's brows twisted in a mix of emotions, seemingly at a loss.

"Boss, boss!"

As the leaders stood uncertain, a subordinate came running, "The Northern Army, the Northern Army..."

He was panting heavily.

"What about the Northern Army!" snapped Osir Cardenas's brother, grabbing the other's collar in irritation.

"The Northern Army is live broadcasting the massacre of drug traffickers in Guadalajara!!!"

"All 139 national channels are airing it!"

Osir Cardenas's hand trembled. This "savior" of the Michoacán Family suddenly felt cowardly. He had slaughtered civilians in Mexico City, fought local gangs in America for profit, and assassinated so-called dukes in European markets!

But...

Those retaliations were "civilized" and done in the shadows, where was the overt audacity like Victor's?

Maybe...

Time to flee?

Otherwise, it might be too late!

...

"I was wrong, I was wrong! I won't traffic drugs anymore, I still have children, I have parents, please, I won't dare anymore." A tied-up drug trafficker sobbed, so terrified he wet himself, but the indifferent Northern Army soldiers dragged him to a pre-dug pit!

There were nearly a hundred people inside, legs broken to prevent them from climbing out.

Surrounding them were soldiers, shoveling dirt into the pit.

They were determined to bury them alive!

Two journalists holding cameras trembled on their legs.

"Captain, if they realize their mistake, I think we should give them a chance, isn't the purpose of the law to allow people to repent and reform?" a pale-faced blonde girl fought through her fear and said.