Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 709 Poisonous Dogs Must Die!
Mexico City, presidential residence, early morning.

Viktor was sitting unceremoniously on the soft carpet in the living room, with a two-year-old girl, as beautiful as a porcelain doll, climbing up his chest in his lap, her little hands precisely grabbing the few prickly stubble hairs on his chin.

"Ouch, my little Maria, be gentle, you're going to pluck all of Daddy's beard."

Viktor winced and gasped for breath, but his eyes were full of doting smiles as he let his daughter Maria "rule the roost" over him.

The little girl let out a silvery laugh, as if she thought her father's contorted expression was the most fun toy in the world.

Not far away, his two-year-old son Brutus was sitting on the floor, intently playing with a set of wooden toy soldiers. He was trying to get the soldiers into an attack formation, but they were clearly not coordinated enough, and the formation was crooked.

The little boy looked up and glanced enviously at his younger sister, who was snuggling in her father's arms. He instinctively wanted to join her.

But after glancing at his father, he immediately retreated to his original spot and continued playing with his toy soldiers, only his little mouth pursed slightly.

Belsaria Rumsfeld came out of the kitchen carrying a plate of cut fruit, saw this scene, and shook her head helplessly.

She placed the fruit on the coffee table, walked over to Viktor, and gently patted his shoulder. "Viktor, you're being too harsh on Brutus. He's still just a child."

Victor carefully lifted his daughter Maria above his head, eliciting another excited scream from the little girl, before holding her in his arms and looking at his wife dismissively: "Darling, can boys and girls be the same? Maria is our jewel, she can be spoiled and willful, but Brutus..."

He looked at his son, his voice unconsciously taking on a hint of expectant firmness, "He will be facing a world full of wolves in the future. He can play with toy soldiers now, but one day he will have to face the real battlefield. I can't let him become like those Korean men, all effeminate and covered in makeup! A man's spirit must be forged from a young age."

Belsaria sighed, knowing she couldn't win against this stubborn man on this matter. She sat down on the sofa next to Victor, picked up a piece of apple and fed it to her daughter, changing the subject: "Yesterday, my brother called from Springfield."

Victor, who was rubbing his daughter's cheek with his beard, paused slightly upon hearing this, but did not look up. "Oh? What brilliant idea does our Governor have this time?"

"It's not good."

"Real problems are starting to emerge. The cost of independence is higher than anyone imagined. Taxes have increased, but the federal government—well, I mean the subsidies and infrastructure funding that Washington used to provide—has all disappeared. Businesses in the state are complaining, and the supply chain disruptions are getting worse. Many of the farmers and blue-collar workers who were the loudest advocates for independence are now starting to miss the days in the United States. Polls show that the percentage of people who support 'reconsidering the relationship with the federal government' has risen by ten percentage points in the past three months."

“People have to live their lives, you know…” Viktor finally spoke, his voice low and tinged with mockery, whether mocking the fickle public opinion or the cruel reality, it was hard to tell. “What do they think independence is? A grand festival parade? After it’s over, everything is back to normal, just with a prettier flag?”

He turned to his wife. “Darling, what does your brother, our Governor of Illinois, mean? Is he just complaining to you, or is he sending me some kind of signal through you?”

Belsaria met his gaze without flinching: "First and foremost, it's our family, and then the governor. He's telling me this because I'm his sister and your wife. He's in the eye of the storm, under immense pressure. He came to power on the back of the surge in public opinion brought about by the independence movement, and he needs more substantial help than just moral support."

“Substantial help?” Victor scoffed. “Our own tax system is still under construction, and you and I both know how much reserve the central bank has left. Several southern states are still arguing over border trade quotas. What am I going to use to fill the gap in Illinois?”

His tone softened somewhat: "Belsalia, we chose this path ourselves, and there's no turning back now."

“Tell Bramo.”

“Complaining won’t solve the problem. Tell him to show the decisiveness of a governor, integrate state resources, and prioritize the basic needs of the people. That’s how Americans are; they act impulsively and will do anything to save face. Once they’ve calmed down, they find their wallets are empty and start to regret it. Tell your brother to stay calm. I will get the National Development Bank to provide them with another five-year low-interest loan to help them get through this difficult time.”

He looked at his wife and said, “Those old foxes in Washington will never allow a secession to return intact. Even if it does, the conditions will be so harsh that they can’t bear it.”

"Surrendering is not just losing half the battle, it means your entire family has lost."

Belsaria opened her mouth, seemingly wanting to say something, but ultimately swallowed her words and simply nodded.

Just then, there was a gentle knock on the living room door, and then Casare appeared in the doorway.

"Boss."

Maria saw Casare and happily opened her arms for a hug. Casare smiled kindly and gently patted the little girl's hair.

Victor patted his daughter on the back, and Belsaria got up knowingly, taking the somewhat reluctant Maria from her husband's arms. At the same time, she waved to Brutus, "Children, we should go to the garden to check on the cherry tomatoes we planted yesterday."

The door was gently closed.

Viktor lit a Marlboro. Even now, he still likes to smoke this kind of cigarette. Although it's cheap, it's strong.

"So, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?"

“In the mountainous region bordering Oaxaca and Chiapas, the remnants of the Zapatista National Liberation Front have resurfaced.”

Viktor frowned: "Remnants? Not all of them are dead?"

"They changed tactics. Instead of simply launching armed attacks and destroying infrastructure, they launched massive village demonstrations, blocking major roads leading to several key towns in the mountains. The number of people involved was large, and it seemed to have been planned for a long time."

The relationship between the Zapatista National Liberation Front and the local community is complex and cannot be explained in a single sentence.

"What do they want? They're demanding the release of those imprisoned terrorists again?"

"In their public statements, they raised the issue of political participation."

The room fell silent for a moment.

Viktor then gave a short laugh.

"Participate in politics?" He repeated the word, his tone mocking. "They fucking want to participate in politics?! Casare, are you sure you didn't hear me wrong? Or have those guys eaten too many mushrooms in the deep forest and are hallucinating?"

He strode up to Casare, pointing his finger forcefully at the air as if stabbing an unseen enemy in the chest: "Tell me! Since I took over this mess, how much of a benefit have I fucking given to those godforsaken regions in the central part of the country in order to stabilize them?! Huh?!"

Casare nodded vigorously, then began counting on his fingers, rapidly praising "Victor's great achievements":
"You personally approved the approval, and every year real money is allocated from the central government's treasury specifically for infrastructure construction in ethnic minority areas in central China! Road construction! Electricity! Water supply! They didn't even have a decent road before, but now trucks can drive into the villages!"

"All school-age children who attend government-run schools will not only have their tuition waived, but their families will also receive food and cash subsidies! The goal is to prevent their next generation from associating with those armed militants!"

"Fertilizer and seeds at below-market prices! The government guarantees to buy their corn and coffee beans! So that they can survive, and live better than before!"

"Medical assistance, mobile medical teams regularly go to the countryside! Although the conditions are not as good as in the city, at least if you get malaria or are bitten by a snake, you can get treatment and don't have to wait to die!"

"Boss, you did a great job." Casare knew it by heart.

This actually confused Viktor...

The fact that you remember it so clearly makes me feel much better.

He took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly. "I gave them jobs, I gave them a way to survive, I gave them dignity, I even tolerated their strange traditions, and what was the result?"

"Do they think I, Viktor, am too easy to talk to?"

"Is there someone outside behind this?" Victor suddenly asked Casare.

“We have conducted a preliminary investigation and have not found any evidence of clear support from external forces. It seems to be a radical faction within them that thinks we are focused on drug control and military reorganization and have no time for anything else, so they want to take the opportunity to cause trouble and gain more political capital.”

"So, they think I, Viktor, am in a mess right now and easy to bully? They think they can take advantage of my misfortune?"

Viktor laughed angrily, "The drug problem hasn't even been cleaned up yet, and these ignorant fools are already jumping out to cause trouble again! Do they really think my patience is unlimited?"

Casare tentatively asked, "Should we send in the National Guard or Army troops? Forcibly disperse the demonstrations and arrest the ringleaders? A quick and decisive action to warn the others who are watching."

"No!" Viktor abruptly waved his hand, narrowing his eyes. "Send troops? That would be giving them too much face, and it would also give people grounds to say that I'm suppressing ethnic minorities. Aren't they just causing trouble because they have more people and because of the benefits I gave them in the past?"

He said sternly, "Pass on my orders!"

"Immediately cut off all external communication networks in those troublesome towns and surrounding villages on the border of Oaxaca and Chiapas. Block cell phone signals, landline phones, and the internet. I want to make them deaf and blind, unable to cry out to heaven or earth!"

"Notify the Ministry of Finance and the Ministry of the Interior that, effective immediately, all special subsidies for ethnic minorities, agricultural support funds, and education subsidies to this region are suspended indefinitely. Not a single penny is allowed to flow into it!"

"Order the National Grain Corporation to stop supplying grain to all government-controlled grain stores and distribution points in the region! Not a single grain of rice or a bag of flour is allowed in! Before, we begged them to accept our grain; now, I want them to know who is feeding them!"

"Aren't they ungrateful? Don't they think what I give them is a given? Fine! I'll take back everything I've given them, one by one!"

"I'll let them go hungry for a few days, let them sit deep in the mountains, facing the broken signal and empty rice jars, and think about what they are without me, Viktor, without the Mexican government! Think about who's really in charge now!"

"I want them to understand that they're still too green to play these tricks on me! When they're starving, someone will tie up the ringleaders and send them to the government gate. Then we'll see if anyone still dares to talk to me about some bullshit political rights!"

"Yes, boss! I'll get on it right away!"

He turned and walked away quickly, and you could tell that Viktor was truly enraged this time.

Victor watched Casare's departing figure, then glanced at the carefree children in the garden, took a deep drag on his cigarette, and stubbed out the remaining cigarette butt in the ashtray.

Kindness is reserved for those who know how to be grateful.

For those ungrateful wretches who can never be satisfied, starving them and emptying their bodies is the best way to educate them.

Six blows in ten seconds? That's too lenient on him.

...In Kowloon City, Hong Kong, on the ground floor of an inconspicuous old tenement building, hangs a sign that reads "Chang Lung Tea House".

The iron gate at the entrance was half-closed, and the shop was filled with the rich aroma of aged Pu'er tea, but it couldn't hide a hint of tension.

Inside the main room, three men sat around a heavy rosewood tea table.

Seated in the main seat was the current leader of the 14K, nicknamed "Ah Bing," in his fifties, wearing a loose Tang suit, holding two shiny walnuts in his hands, his brows furrowed.

Opposite him was "Fire Bull," the Boss of Wo Shing Wo, a burly man whose temper was just like his nickname—irritable and easily angered. At that moment, he was tapping his fingers on the table in frustration.

On the other side, the representative of the Sun Yee On, "White-Haired Ben," appeared much more sinister. He was the youngest, around forty years old, but his hair was already mostly white.

"The news is confirmed. Ah Xiong has been caught. He was apprehended in Tsim Sha Tsui by NB and CIB agents and is now being held at headquarters." Ah Bing's voice was low, and the walnut in his hand stopped spinning.

"Damn it!"

Fire Bull slammed his hand on the table, making the teaware clang loudly. "What's going on?! Didn't I tell him to keep a low profile and travel by water? How did he end up eating char siu rice downstairs at Chungking Mansions and still get arrested by the anti-prostitution squad? Has he lost his mind?!"

"It's no use talking about it now."

Bai Touben coldly said, "Where is Brother Le? We have several main smuggling routes, connections in the Golden Triangle area of ​​Southeast Asia, and even the money laundering accounts that our gangs use in cooperation with them. If he asks us to, we'll all be finished with him."

One sentence caused the temperature in the room to drop drastically.

Fire Bull, panting heavily, glared at White-Haired Ben: "Then what do you mean? We don't even know where Brother Le is right now. Those crazy Mexican cops are looking for him like hunting dogs. We can't even find a way to send a message!"

"We can't worry about Brother Le right now."

Ah Bing sighed and started fiddling with the walnuts in his hands again, his eyes darting around. "It's hard to say whether he can escape this calamity himself. The problem now is Ah Xiong."

Bai Touben picked up the small teacup in front of him, but didn't drink it. He just stared at the amber-colored tea inside. "If you're going to do something, do it all. Shut him up."

Ah Bing and Huoniu both looked at him at the same time, their eyes filled with shock.

"Kill Ah Xiong?" Fire Bull lowered his voice, his tone incredulous. "He's Brother Le's younger brother! If we mess with him, how are we going to explain ourselves when Brother Le comes back?"

"Explain?"

Bai Tou Ben chuckled, put down his teacup, and glanced at the two men. "Wait for him to come back? What if he doesn't come back? What if he does come back, but Ah Xiong has already sold us all out? At that point, we won't even have a chance to kneel down and beg Brother Le for a way out, let alone explain ourselves. Getting rid of Ah Xiong now is like cutting our losses and saving ourselves! If Brother Le doesn't die, he'll understand our predicament in the future. If he dies, there's even less need to keep a menace alive."

Ah Bing remained silent, his pace of playing with the walnuts accelerating. Killing Xie Zhixiong was far too risky; it would be tantamount to directly challenging Xie Zhile's authority.

Fire Bull's expression also changed, clearly shocked by Whitehead's ruthless suggestion, but he had to admit that what he said made sense.

The teahouse was deathly silent, with only the faint sound of walnuts being rubbed together in Ah Bing's hands.

After a long silence, Ah Bing slowly spoke, his voice carrying a weariness after making a decision: "Touching Ah Xiong is too much of a target. He's definitely under close police surveillance now, making it difficult for our people to make a move. Even if we succeed, it will be a huge scandal, and the police will investigate like madmen."

He changed the subject, a fierce glint in his eyes: "But someone has to take responsibility for this. That policeman named Ma Guoming, he arrested Ah Xiong, and he also scared Ah Xiong into talking. If it weren't for his meddling, Ah Xiong might have been able to hold on until our lawyer arrived."

Fire Bull's eyes lit up: "Brother Bing means..."

"Kill that cop!" Ah Bing said, emphasizing each word. "First, to give Ah Xiong and Brother Le an explanation, showing that we did something. Second, to make an example of him, letting the other cops know that messing with us will come at a bloody price! Third, to divert the police's attention; they're busy investigating the police killing, so they might be a little less focused on Ah Xiong and the extradition issue."

After a moment of contemplation, a hint of approval finally appeared on Bai Touben's cold face: "Chief Inspector Ma Guoming, that's enough. Find a new face, do things cleanly, and send him off the coast immediately afterward to hide in the Philippines or Indonesia for a while."

Fire Bull nodded vigorously: "Okay! Let's do it this way! I have a few Vietnamese men under my command. They're ruthless and fearless. Give them a generous settlement fee, and they'll do anything!"

The three exchanged a knowing glance.

"This matter needs to be handled quickly."

Ah Bing concluded by saying, "I want to hear about Ma Guoming's death before Ah Xiong is formally extradited or reveals more information."

"understand!"

...

After working continuously for 36 hours, Ma Guoming felt as if two drilling machines were working simultaneously in his temples.

He rubbed his bloodshot eyes. On the case board in front of him, the clues about Xie Zhixiong, Mexican drug lords, and international money laundering networks were intertwined, but capturing Xie Zhixiong would undoubtedly open a crucial gap.

"Mr. Ma, go back and get some sleep. You can't keep going like this, even someone made of iron can't take it," his subordinate, Ah Jie, advised, despite his dark circles under his eyes.

Kenneth Ma waved his hand, his voice hoarse: "It's okay, I'm going out for some fresh air, buying some breakfast, and I'll go over it again when I get back."

The morning air carried a slight chill, dispelling some of the drowsiness.

He walked out of the police station building; the sunlight was a bit too bright.

The "Qiangji Beef Brisket" restaurant across the street, which he had frequented for over a decade, had just opened. The rich aroma of beef bone soup wafted over, stirring a craving in his empty stomach.

Just then, my phone rang in my pocket; it was my wife calling.

"Hey, Ah Qing..." He answered the phone, a tired smile unconsciously appearing on his face. Without stopping, he continued walking towards the beef brisket stall. "I just got off work and was about to grab something to eat... Okay, I know, I'll make sure to get some rest. I'll head back after I buy breakfast..."

On the other end of the phone, his wife seemed to be complaining that he had stayed up all night again, her tone filled with concern and worry.

Ma Guoming listened patiently, his gaze sweeping across the bustling streets that were just beginning to open in the morning. Newspaper vendors were arranging magazines, and several elderly people carrying freshly bought groceries walked by during their morning exercise. Everything seemed as peaceful as ever.

He walked up to the beef brisket stall, and the proprietress recognized him, smiling and nodding at him.

“I understand, I understand. It’s your mother’s birthday this Sunday, I’ll definitely go back.” Ma Guoming hadn’t finished speaking.

Suddenly, the roar of a modified motorcycle engine came from afar, tearing apart the tranquility of the early morning!
Kenneth Ma almost instinctively frowned and looked toward the source of the sound.

A black motorcycle without license plates sped across the street corner like a wild horse!
The cyclist was wearing a helmet, obscuring his face. The person sitting on the back was dressed in ordinary jeans and a jacket, also wearing a helmet; judging from their build, they appeared to be a woman.

The motorcycle didn't slow down; instead, as it approached the beef brisket stall, the front of the motorcycle veered slightly, and the woman on the back seat suddenly raised her hand, holding a dark black Black Star pistol!
Kenneth Ma's pupils constricted sharply. His professional instincts made him instantly aware of the danger, but physical exhaustion and a moment of relaxation brought on by talking to his wife made him a fatal step too slow.

He tried to dodge, tried to draw his gun, but it was all too late.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The woman pulled the trigger.

The first shot hit him in the chest, and the huge impact made him lean back violently!
The second and third shots hit his abdomen and shoulder, respectively!

The fourth shot grazed his neck, leaving a cloud of blood in its wake!
The phone slipped from Ma Guoming's hand and flew out, landing on the ground a few steps away.

On the phone, his wife, A-Qing, could still be faintly heard calling out anxiously, "Guoming? Guoming! What happened? Say something!"

He staggered, knocking over a stack of plastic stools next to the beef brisket stall, and finally fell heavily to the ground.

Blood quickly spread from beneath him.

"Ahhhh!! Murder!!"

The female owner of the beef brisket stall let out a piercing scream, and the soup ladle in her hand clattered to the ground.

The street instantly descended into utter chaos!

The pedestrians, who had been orderly just moments before, scattered in panic like ants startled from their nest, knocking things over in a cacophony of sounds. An old man who had just bought a newspaper was so frightened that he collapsed to the ground, scattering the newspaper everywhere.

The alarms of cars parked on the roadside were blaring as they were bumped by the panicked crowd.

The motorcycle that had completed its mission didn't even slow down; its engine let out an even more arrogant roar, then it suddenly spun out at an intersection and disappeared into the intricate back alleys.

The phone, its screen shattered, lay forlornly on the ground, from which only the faint, desperate, and futile cries of a woman could be heard.

Ma Guoming saw several police officers rush out of the police station, and he slowly closed his eyes.

"I can finally rest."

……

(End of this chapter)