Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 120 "The Milton Cartel"

Even Milton, who was very knowledgeable, was dumbfounded when he saw this scene. He was truly dumbfounded.

He never dreamed that the buyer of his corpses would be Lyman, and that it would be the checkpoint next door!

“This…this?” Milton looked around. “Does this mean that Lyman and Lopez pay gangs to beat us up, we sell the gangs to them for money, and they then use that profit to hire even more gangs to beat us up? Is this the cycle?”

What kind of abstract script is this?
The extraordinary nature of this bizarre little country has exceeded Milton's imagination.

If this battle had been documented, it might have been used as material by some bloggers decades later to make videos that would make viewers laugh uncontrollably...

"Boss, what... what do we do?"

Brandon was also a bit confused—the attack originally had two objectives: first, to blow up the bridge and disrupt the enemy's trade routes; second, to see if they could kidnap some people to sell for money.

But what do we do now?
Do you want to continue?
Milton gritted his teeth and said fiercely, "What else can we do? Let's continue. Anyway, Lyman doesn't know that the seller is me."

He was counting on this deal to get the airport built, so how could he stop halfway through?
Moreover, this deal may seem funny at first glance, but upon closer inspection, it is actually quite damaging to the enemy, in addition to being comical.

This is like using the enemy's money to replenish your own resources.

Flora finally couldn't hold back her laughter: "Hahaha...hahaha! I can't take it anymore, this is too funny, hahaha! It turns out that the one who helped us in our time of need was actually the enemy, hahaha!"

Milton gave her a warning look, then randomly picked someone and kicked them: "You, speak up, who's in charge here?"

The man knelt down, crying out, "Over there, that man named Green, he's Lyman's second-in-command... Mr. 'Hell Tax Collector,' please, I have a family, I don't want to die, please spare me! At least, at least don't burn me to death..."

Milton ignored him, walked straight to Green, took out a water bottle and poured it on his face, while slapping him twice.

"Can you speak?"

"...Milton, what are you going to do?"

Green had heard every word of the conversation, and his worldview was starting to crumble.

They worked hard in business, reinvesting all the $1000 profit from a single corpse into their continued attack on Milton, ultimately providing Milton with funds.

Moreover, for every person who went there, Milton could make $3000, and 70% of that was actually Milton's money!

No wonder this mysterious seller has such a large volume of shipments and guarantees no legal risks; it turns out these people are all supplied by the damn sellers themselves!

"Nothing, I'm just curious, how much money do you make if I sell you a corpse and then resell it?"

Green answered without hesitation: "500."

Milton sighed, shook his head, and took out his Taser and fired a shot at Green.

"Ah—ah!!!"

Watching Green writhe in agony on the ground, Milton shook his head: "Why are you being so stubborn in this pointless situation? Can't you just tell the truth? Even if you're going to lie, don't be so evasive."

“1000!” Green cried out in anguish. “It really is 1000. We still have to bribe officials, we have transportation costs, and there are losses… A corpse can only be worth 1000 at most.”

Milton was somewhat surprised: "Then why are you being so generous, giving me $3000?"

"That's because normally you need to pay $3000 to make a profit! To do this kind of business, you either have to collude with hospitals to slowly scam patients. This method is high-risk, requires a lot of profit sharing, takes a long time, and can't be done too frequently. Generally, you can only do it once every few months. If the price isn't high, nobody will do it."

"Either we arrest gang members with a lot of criminal records, but gangs won't just stand there and let you fight them. If we lose manpower, the cost will be very high."

"Do you think everyone is like you, running a pig-butchering scam with no capital required?"

A gang member can fetch $3000 just by selling them, and there are ways to squeeze more money out of them.

Even after deducting the costs of the slave-catching team, a single gang member could bring Milton's team at least $2000 in revenue.

Milton exclaimed, "I see..."

After saying this, Green was put onto the slave cart.

Brandon stared at the corpses in the freezer, feeling a chill run down his spine. "So, boss, what should we do with these bodies? Burn them, or just leave them here?"

Milton looked over with a hint of disdain: "So many corpses, how much are they worth? It's such a waste to throw them away. Why not sell them again? With freezers, they can still fetch a good price even after 3 hours... Even if you can't sell them for 3000, selling them for 300 each is not bad. Every little bit counts."

Brandon rubbed his forehead: "...Boss, don't eat so much. I'm really afraid you'll eat Lopez out of house and home one day."

Good grief, you sell the goods to the seller, then snatch them back and resell them, right?
“What are you afraid of?” Milton glanced at Green, whose face was full of despair, in the car. “Anyway, the person in charge of this job is either dead or arrested. Lyman can only send someone else to take over the job, and the new person can’t recognize where these corpses came from.”

Brandon sat in the car, thought for a moment, and then asked, "Boss, what about Green and the others? They're Lyman's men, should we just execute them?"

"No, kill them and sell them to Lyman."

“…Boss, even Satan would tattoo you on his head.” Brandon finally couldn’t hold back and started complaining about Milton. “You captured Lyman’s deputy stationmaster, sold him back to Lyman, and made $3000, right? The problem is, I’m worried they’ll recognize these corpses.”

Just then, a huge explosion came from behind them.

The aerial bomb was detonated.

The bridge collapsed with a loud bang.

The mission was successfully completed, and the convoy immediately took all the spoils and retreated in an orderly manner.

Milton waited until the explosions subsided before continuing, "There are too many ways to change a corpse... starve it for three days before execution, whip it all over, break its bones, and finally peel off its face. Not even Lyman, let alone Green's own mother, would recognize it."

Flora said frankly, "That's ruthless..."

“How can you make money in business if you're not ruthless? Haven't you been talking to me about airports all this time?” Milton turned to look at her. “Right now, I'm making money to buy airports.”

"Then I agree. I want the airport too. As for Lyman, I can only wish him good luck... By the way, what do you think of our combat skills? We did alright today, right?"

Milton nodded: "Not bad at all. If I had more soldiers like this, I could completely control the import and export trade in this area. As the attacker, I think I need at least 200 men to take Lyman's checkpoint relatively smoothly."

"Well, including ourselves, we can now muster about 100 combat personnel."

“Good progress.” Milton nodded. “Hurry up. Lopez isn’t stupid. Our lie of gold everywhere won’t last long. The real battle is coming soon.”

The reports were full of stories of huge wins and robberies, with gang members fleeing to America after making a fortune, but none of them could be found. Milton town was also getting richer and richer, which clearly indicated a serious problem.

If we extend the timeframe, it will definitely arouse suspicion.

Optimistically speaking, this new era of "triangular trade" may not last more than two months.

The large-scale delivery of goods by 20 people, like on the first day, has not occurred in the past few days. Generally speaking, only a few people come to rob each day.

At a rate of $2500 net profit per person, and with an average of 7 people dying every day, the net profit would be approximately $100 million in 2 months.

It barely covers the construction costs of the planned field airfield.

But it was just construction.

Aircraft can be redeemed through the panel, but various maintenance and operating costs also require money.

In other words, even under the most optimistic estimates, the profits from the triangular trade would still not be enough to secure the airport; the neighboring checkpoint and town would still be needed.

"What's there to be afraid of in a big battle? We've wanted to fight for ages!"

"..."

Soon, the group returned to the town and to the police station.

As soon as Milton opened the door, he saw "Ghost Wolf" sitting in a chair at the police station.

"'Godfather,' I have two pieces of news, one is good news, and the other is also good news! Which one do you want to hear first?"

"Speak up, stop beating around the bush," Milton waved his hand. "Stop playing games."

Ghost Wolf rubbed his hands together and said, "Hehe, the first piece of good news is... Boss, do you want a grenade launcher?"

"What kind of howitzer? The M116, a 75mm howitzer?" Milton seemed interested. "You actually managed to get your hands on these things?"

"No, no, no, no!" Ghost Wolf shook his head rapidly. "It's not that kind of howitzer, Mr. Godfather. Look at my lips, it's real, a howitzer! A 152mm caliber, D-20, a howitzer, Soviet-made!"

Milton was dumbfounded: "Are you kidding me? How could you possibly get your hands on a 152mm howitzer?! Are you from the KGB or the CIA?"

152 durians?!

This thing is nothing short of devastating! With a range of nearly 20 kilometers, it's an absolutely powerful weapon with high strategic deterrence. In a country like Guatemala, Milton could wipe out Lyman, along with his fortifications, from 20 kilometers away with this howitzer.

They are in charge of both killing and burying.

It's estimated that the interface will only allow you to exchange for weapons of this level once Milton controls a province.

There's absolutely no way a small-town arms dealer like "Ghost Wolf" could get his hands on such a weapon.

It is absolutely impossible.

Ghost Wolf shrugged: "'Godfather's" question is, do you want 152 durians? It's not that I can sell them to you.

"What do you mean?"

"Ghost Wolf" continued, "I heard from my distributor that a buyer in Quetzaltenango has decided to import a D-20 from Russia. I guess it will arrive at the port of Champerico, probably within the next month or two. I paid a considerable price to get this information..."

Milton fell silent.

Port of Champerico, Quetzaltenango...

In this area, there's only one force capable of buying 152 durians.

Lopez, or the regular army under his control.

If Lopez does acquire this cannon and then fires at the town from 20 kilometers away, followed by the deployment of anti-aircraft guns, anti-aircraft missiles, and tanks nearby...

This is the oppressive feeling of a regular army.

"So, this is bad news, isn't it?" Milton chuckled. "You're quite the smooth talker."

Ghost Wolf gave a wry smile: "Not entirely. I really think that if you can seize the opportunity, you still have a good chance of taking this cannon."

“We definitely need to pay close attention to this. Even if we can't seize it, we must destroy it, otherwise the threat to us is far too great.” Milton tapped the table. “And the other good news? It can't be the same as this, can it?”

"No, no, no, the next piece of news is really good news, Mr. 'Godfather'. It seems that just now, the guy who collected your batch of corpses has run into a little trouble."

Milton: "..."

Yes, he did run into a little trouble. I killed his men, stole his goods, and blew up one of his bridges.

"Ghost Wolf" was completely unaware: "I heard that his supply channels have run into some problems, and he has suffered serious losses. He needs a lot of money to make up for the losses... He is now counting on us to supply more goods. Maybe we can take the opportunity to raise the price!"

"But I don't dare to make the decision for you... How about you talk to them on the phone? I'll speak on your behalf, and you can just give me instructions from the sidelines."

“Yes, I’ve disguised myself with several layers of identity. They don’t know I’m in Malacan Town. Mr. Godfather, you’ll have to be careful.”

Talk in person...

Milton nodded: "Okay, let's make a call and talk about it."

"Ghost Wolf" immediately stood up, took out his mobile phone from his bag, and dialed a number.

The call was answered very quickly.

"Hello? Is this the vicious dog?"

Ghost Wolf glanced at Milton, cleared his throat, and said, "It's me."

"Have you contacted the seller yet? How is it going? Is there any way they can sell more stock? If so, I can offer a slightly higher price."

Ghost Wolf's voice was slow and low: "Hehe... Don't rush. You know, this kind of business is very risky. You can't just get a corpse whenever you want. It involves killing people, killing people, do you understand?"

“I know, so I’m willing to pay a higher price.”

Ghost Wolf remained unperturbed, asking with a smile, "What exactly happened to you? From what I know of you, you're not an impatient person."

“What else could they do…” The other person clearly trusted “Ghost Wolf” and was quite familiar with him. “Those lunatics from the Milton Cartel blew up a bridge on the freight route! Holy crap! Do you know how much it costs to repair a bridge? Do you know how much trade we’ll lose if we don’t repair it?!”

"As far as I know, a very important person also died at the checkpoint."

“Don’t tell me you don’t know who Milton is. A nigger might not know who his father is, but he definitely knows who Milton is.”

"..."

The "Ghost Wolf," who had been in control of the conversation and seemed completely at ease, suddenly turned around and stared at Milton in astonishment, as if he had seen a ghost.

Milton's eyes remained expressionless as he gestured for "Ghost Wolf" to continue.

He also cursed the enemy for giving him such a ridiculous name, making it seem like they were some kind of drug cartel.

It should be called the "Tax Bureau," not some awful-sounding "Cartel"!
Ghost Wolf took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice from trembling: "Okay, what price are you planning to offer? You know, if a region has too many deaths, there will be a lot of trouble, and the seller will have to pay more costs to deal with it."

"Wasn't a fresh corpse originally $3000? I can raise it to $3100 per corpse, but the quantity must increase from 7 to 10 per day. That way, we can both earn more, how about it?"

Milton immediately shook his head.

Ghost Wolf then refused, saying, "No, the minimum is $3200. Don't even think about anything below that price. Don't think I don't know how much profit you make."

"Okay." The other party was clearly in a hurry, and since the price of 3200 hadn't reached their bottom line, they immediately agreed. "But it's agreed that you must deliver at least 10 units per day, is that alright?"

10 bodies... After dragging bounty hunters into the pig butchering scam, this number should be fine.

Milton then nodded and mouthed the words to "Ghost Wolf".

Ghost Wolf's eyes flashed with shock at first, then he quickly replied, "The seller said that to show his sincerity, he can provide 30 corpses tomorrow."

"Great! That's a good idea! Let's do it that way!"

"Beep beep..."

Ghost Wolf first checked the phone to make sure it was really disconnected before looking at Milton with an extremely strange and fearful gaze.

"'Godfather,' uh, um... so you were the one who did it? You even knew who the buyer was? I had no idea. Haha, so you thought the price was too low and personally went to drive it up? Hahaha..."

"I was saying I'd give you a surprise, but it turns out you already knew! Hahaha!"

I found out by accident...

Milton muttered to himself, then said, "Don't worry about it too much. Just keep this channel open and don't reveal your identity."

"Good good!"

After saying that, "Ghost Wolf" quickly ran away from the police station.

That's terrifying! The "hellish tax collectors" are terrifying!

After "Ghost Wolf" left, Flora clicked her tongue twice and said, "Not bad, it's become a cartel."

"Come on, I'm not one of those rabble." Milton shook his head. "Let's get down to business. How's your recruitment plan going?"

"Actually, it's pretty much the same. Our biggest problem is that we don't have many experienced veterans. Although everyone's morale is high, we still need to start training from scratch, so it takes a long time to develop combat effectiveness. Besides, there are only three of us who can be instructors..."

"Haven't you made a name for yourself? Why haven't any capable people come to join you yet?"

"Who knows..."

"..."

The two chatted for a while, and several hours passed.

Suddenly, a police officer rushed to the door and knocked urgently, his voice sounding somewhat flustered.

"'Godfather,' Chief, a large group of people have arrived outside the town, carrying guns. They say they want to see you!"

Milton tilted his head, looking somewhat puzzled: "Have bounty hunters degenerated to this extent these days?"

The officer shook his head: "They said they weren't bounty hunters..."

"They fled from the north, from the province of Vevetenango... anti-government forces, that is... rebels."

(End of this chapter)