Working as a police officer in Mexico

Ever since he'd heard about the bombing in Zacatecas, he hadn't slept well for even a single night.

That…

That was less than 600 kilometers away from Mexico City!

It would only take about five hours by car.

Due to the terrain, the rare Central Altiplano served as a natural barrier for the "Capital," the West Gate!

If the Northern Army were to hold this position, it wouldn't be possible for a surprise attack; their tail would be cut off. But now, if Zacatecas was lost, wouldn't that be like exposing the thigh and directly getting rammed by those savages?

As for reinforcements?

Aside from those damned old Indigenous people, who the hell could endure the high-altitude sickness?

And that goddamned Victor had been dropping Incendiary Bombs, setting the mountains ablaze like Ge You's acting.

While Popovich was anxiously agonizing, the door to his office was thrust open, and Aldous Wendell rushed in with a look of panic, tripping over the carpet and nearly falling flat on his face. He cursed as he staggered.

"Brother, we've got news!"

"Spit it out!"

Aldous looked at his older brother's anxious expression, "Around 600 people died in Zacatecas city, and there's still gunfire inside the city."

600??

Popovich was taken aback by this figure!

It wasn't that he thought it was correct, but that it seemed... too few.

How could it possibly be only 600 people?!

The flames, those goddamn TV broadcasts showed them so huge, a single blaze could cover dozens of people, and you're telling me only 600 died?

There was definitely something wrong.

Popovich glared at Aldous Wendell, staring straight at him, while the latter seemed to falter.

His heart sank, and he bellowed fiercely, "Tell me clearly, how many people!!"

"600… no, 800…" Aldous began to stutter, obviously bewildered.

"Did you even go there, you asshole!" Popovich slapped him across the face, and in anger, kicked him to the ground.

Aldous's face looked mournful, "Big Brother! The place was too high up, and the fire was enormous, huge. Our intelligence personnel couldn't get there, and there were no updates from inside. Victor and his people said there were only 200, so I thought 600 at most…"

Popovich felt like he was about to spit blood in rage, clutching at his chest as he felt a pang in his heart and his gaze toward his younger brother darkened even more.

"Useless! Worthless! Useless!!"

The head of intelligence relied on watching the news?

Why didn't you bloody search for intelligence on forums?

His anger nearly twisted his nose, and looking around, his eyes locked onto the ashtray on the table. He grabbed it and hurled it at Aldous Wendell, who put up his hands to block it, grimacing in pain, "Big Brother, please don't hit me anymore, stop! I have another piece of intelligence, I know where the headquarters of the Northern Army's 1st Marine Division is!"

Wow!

The ashtray stopped right by his ear, that glass object looking somewhat terrifying…

Fuck!

Even blood brothers don't fight like this.

Even in other places, no one uses an ashtray to hit someone.

"Talk! If you lie to me again, I swear I'll kill you and send you back to your hometown to be buried in the family cemetery!"

Aldous shuddered, shaking his head in haste.

"The headquarters of the 1st Marine Division is in Serralvo…"

Popovich hurried to the map hanging on the wall, staring intently at it.

"Right next to Monterrey," Aldous said, enduring the pain as he stood up and pointed to a location, "About 30 kilometers away, Siegmut List is right there!"

"How could it be so close? Monterrey has been taken down?"

"Not yet, the Northern Army dropped over 1300 tons of bombs, the city center is gone, but boss Guardado is still leading people in resistance."

"Guardado can fight like that?"

Popovich exclaimed in surprise.

The Northern Army had been attacking relentlessly for over half a month, hadn't it?

Aerial bombings, ground troops moving in, and yet the cleanup wasn't completely done, the situation was at a stalemate, and other drug traffickers in New Leon were waging guerilla warfare, delaying the Northern Army.

"It's said Guardado is offering each drug trafficker over a thousand US dollars a day, and a bonus of 200 US dollars for killing a member of the Northern Army. For capturing a high ground or a building, they get a bounty ranging from 20 to a hundred thousand US dollars!"

"He also says, if they hold Monterrey, everyone will get a share in their own business dealings in the future!"

"That's very bold!" Popovich nodded slowly upon hearing this.

He was literally staking everything he had.

Guardado's family had significant influence in New Leon, and he knew that if he couldn't defend his territory, there were only two paths: death, since everyone knew the Northern Army didn't accept the surrender of drug traffickers.

Or living under someone else's roof.

Seeing Mexico thrown into such chaos, who wouldn't want to reign supreme, to gather immense power unto oneself, to rise from a local family to a prestigious dynasty? At the very least, to support someone capable of achieving something.

But looking around…

The Northern forces were fierce, the Central was weak, and the Southern was isolated.

Where could one possibly flee?

The only option was to fight to the death!

The drug traffickers below were decisive; as long as they had money, a cheap life was enough.

The closer to the Southern, the more rampant the drug traffickers became.

Aldous Wendell, massaging his numb and bruised arm, proposed to Popovich, "Brother, the ground struggle between the two sides is heating up, very intense. If we can blow up the command post of the Marine First Division, destroy their command center, don't you think the Northern Army in New Leon would lose morale? Then we call for reinforcements from the South to land, and ask warships to shell the island. All fronts attacking, we would surely win this battle!"

His words were very clear, and the strategy, crystal clear.