Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 222 This place has been abandoned by God.
"Ah ah ah ah ah!!!"

After a piercing scream and an embarrassing loss of control of his bladder, the petty thug couldn't catch his breath and collapsed to the ground, his head lolling to the side.

Milton rolled out of bed, dragged the drug dealer out, and found that his breathing and heartbeat had stopped.

"..."

Before Milton could even complain about how cowardly this supposedly incredibly twisted CJNG drug dealer was, the other soldiers who had come along had a variety of interesting expressions on their faces.

Brandon, however, reacted very quickly. He waved his hand and said, "What are you all standing there for? Everything's fine here now. Continue arresting the rest of them. There are no civilians in this community, only drug dealers!"

The soldiers nodded vigorously, then turned and left the room.

Not long after, Milton heard loud shouts coming from outside the door.

"Your boss is dead. The 'Hell Tax Collector' was scared to death just by looking at him!"

"Put down your weapons immediately and give up resistance!"

"The CJNG boss was terrified to death by the 'hell tax collector'..."

"Many drug dealers have died just from Milton's glance. Surrender now!"

"..."

Milton listened to the increasingly outrageous rumors swirling in front of him, glanced at the corpse at his feet, and wished he could give the little boss a CPR on the spot to make him clarify these absurd rumors.

At that moment, a soldier walked in, saluted Milton, and asked, "'Godfather,' may we take this body? If the drug dealers see the body, they might surrender more quickly."

"Take it, take it."

Milton gave up resistance, waved his hand, and let the soldiers take the body away.

After the soldiers left, Milton sat in a chair, waved for Omar to come over.

Omar watched as the gang leader's body was dragged away, shaking his head in amazement: "My God... the rumors are actually true! You really could scare a drug dealer to death!"

“…Now I know how those outrageous rumors got out of control,” Milton scoffed. “Stop talking nonsense. We’ve wiped out the top brass in Comitan, but a city isn’t just about the top brass. It’s different here than in Tapachula. Taking out the top brass doesn’t mean we’ve completely taken over the city.”

Omar nodded: "Yes... We've found that even in the city center, many people are resistant to our arrival. This is very different from when we took down drug dealers and the mayor and took over the city."

Flora tapped her M4A1 and chimed in, "Here, at least for now, we lack grassroots governance. Even if we try to govern by force, it's just as fragile as Lopez's rule... We must solve this problem as soon as possible."

“It seems the drug dealers have brought a lot of jobs to these people,” Milton said casually. “For a small border town, this is a decent economic boost.”

Although Comitan is a city very close to Guatemala, it still provides drug traffickers with a lot of room to maneuver.

Further along, there lies a crucial city: San Cristóbala de la Casas (hereinafter referred to as San Cristó). As long as this city remains intact, Tustra, the capital of Chiapas state located behind it, will be safe.

Even if this city falls, Concordia, which controls a large amount of hydroelectric resources to the south, and Palenque, which has abundant oil and gas resources to the north, can still serve as bridgeheads to block Milton.

Therefore, Comitan, as Milton's bridgehead, became particularly important at this time.

"So, how do you plan to solve this?" Omar asked again. "I feel that this kind of problem cannot be solved in a short time... If you want to quickly alleviate the conflict, either you inject money to fill this economic hole?"

Milton, of course, would not do that. He shook his head and said, "No, there is another way."

"what?"

“Shifting the blame.” Milton pointed north, to where those large oil fields are located. “There’s a lot of oil there. If those profits can be returned, not only Comitan, but half of Chiapas could be revitalized.”

"Want money? No problem. Reservoirs are full of money, oil fields are full of money. As long as we can take them over, we'll have money—much more than growing poppies."

"Power grid transmission is a large-scale infrastructure project that can provide a lot of jobs and will also provide a continuous stream of economic income in the future."

"I want to build railways for oil and gas resources. As long as these can be connected, there will be plenty of opportunities to make money legally."

"Of course... not everyone is qualified to earn this money. Those who are stubborn and immersed in the drug trade must be completely eradicated."

Flora summarized it as follows: "It means, first take out the drug dealers, release a wave of their profits, temporarily stabilize the others... then promise them a lucrative deal, tell them that the lords in the north are rich, is that what you mean?"

“A very good summary,” Milton praised. “Not bad, you’ve made a lot of progress after the company was on the verge of bankruptcy. Since you’ve made such great progress, you’ll be in charge of arresting those who don’t obey this order this morning.”

"……well!"

"..."

Boom boom boom... Boom...

The gunfire and artillery fire gradually subsided by dawn.

The drug dealers in the Kalman community were surrounded and either killed or captured—after their leader died, these notoriously brutal CJNG drug dealers lost their will to fight and surrendered one after another.

The subsequent cleanup was much faster, and news of the victory arrived just as dawn broke.

"Reporting to 'The Godfather'! Comitan City has been largely pacified!"

“Now that the police officers in Tapachula have taken over the police station, and we have taken over the government functions, we can begin to screen reliable locals and reorganize the civilian government!”

Mil stood up, nodded, and said, "We can't let our guard down. Our grassroots governance is unstable right now, and there are definitely many drug dealers left. We need to be careful of assassinations. If I'm not mistaken, I guess quite a few people have already started to stand up and oppose us under the guise of civilians, right?"

The soldier who reported scratched his head: "Uh... there were some at first, but those sounds disappeared very quickly."

"They've all disappeared? Why?" Milton frowned. "What did you do?"

Before figuring out who the enemy was, Milton gave a strict order: no indiscriminate shooting or cannon fire, and no suppression of conflict through indiscriminate slaughter.

Military operations are aimed at drug traffickers, specifically those disguised as civilians, not at eliminating our own workforce and tax revenue.

“Didn’t you tell us to take the body of that CJNG underling?” the soldier in police uniform explained. “We’ll strip him naked and parade him around in the car—that way everyone can see that the drug dealer has no injuries and no signs of being forced.”

At this point, the soldier's eyes held a hint of awe and admiration as he looked at Milton: "We've shown everyone that even the most ruthless drug dealers will be scared to death when they see the 'Hell Tax Collector'!"

"Those who initially had objections suddenly had none left!"

Milton: "..."

After experiencing so much, he finally realized what it meant that "the intentions of those above were good, but the execution by those below was flawed."

Even someone like Milton himself, who wielded absolute power, couldn't escape it...

"Alright, get out of here and continue your mission: hunt down drug dealers in the city."

"Yes!"

The soldier saluted excitedly, then turned and left the room.

Flora, her expression tense, asked, "We've captured almost everyone. What are you planning to do now?"

Milton tapped the table: "Isn't there a poppy field near Comitan? Isn't that what drug dealers use to win people over? Let's go take a look."

"This field cannot be used to grow drugs, but it also cannot be left to fallow."

After saying that, Milton walked out of the house, jumped into the armored vehicle, and drove along the road out of the city, heading towards the poppy fields.

Along the way, Milton could see the scenery outside through the bulletproof glass.

Unlike the previous battles where Milton's army was warmly welcomed wherever it went, this time Milton indeed saw a lot of resistance and hostility.

Even those who weren't so resistant had eyes full of worry and distrust.

To them, Vic and Omar came from the other side of the mountains, from a city by the sea and the border, where they had no worries about food and drink. All they had to do was solve the problem of distribution. They could never understand the difficulties of their poor hometown.

Milton, needless to say, is a foreigner; how could he be trusted?

The convoy left the city and arrived at the poppy field.

Brandon observed from a distance, gave a few orders to the soldiers, waited for a while, and then turned around to report: "Boss, there are some people over there in the field... there are old people and children. I sent someone to check, and no one is carrying weapons or explosives."

Milton opened the armored vehicle door and jumped out: "Let's go see what they're up to."

As soon as the Mexicans gathered around the field saw Milton approaching, they quickly grabbed their children and carefully walked over.

A woman stood at the front row, initially hesitant to speak, but seeing the same fear and timidity on the faces of the others, she gripped her child's hand and took another step forward from the front row.

CJNG can scare countless people so much they can't sleep, but this person in front of you can scare the CJNG's underling to death!

The woman mustered her courage and asked, "Sir, hello...you must be the 'Hell Tax Collector', right?"

Milton glanced at the poppy field, then at the group of people in front of him, and asked in a calm tone, "Is this your field?"

If the answer is "yes," Milton will immediately order the firing—no one here, except for the frail children, will survive.

Even if these people look rather poor, it's the same.

The woman quickly denied it, saying, "No...this isn't our land! We don't grow these things!"

Milton frowned: "If it's not your land, why are you stopping me?"

“Sir…we are too poor.” The woman gave a bitter smile. “They…they are cruel, and we are not qualified to participate in their business, but everyone else has money…”

"Someone bought something from the store..."

"Someone is seeking services from women..." "The city government can collect a little money and provide some construction and welfare..."

“Look at our children! They are so young, and they are starving even now. If it weren’t for this field, they would definitely starve to death, definitely!”

The woman looked up at the fully armed soldiers behind Milton, whose bullets could tear apart any resisting armored vehicle. Her sorrow and despair intensified, and tears welled up in her eyes: "Sir, we just want to live... They will come back after you leave!"

“Guadalajara has been eliminated, and the Sinaloa Group will come.”

"Guzman is in jail, CJNG will be there."

“You can drive CJNG away, but someone else will come... Eliminating drug dealers is just changing their name and their organization.”

Milton, expressionless, said, "So how did you survive before the drug dealers arrived?"

“Before, we could sell coffee, corn, anything that could be grown in the ground, and we could barely survive,” the woman wiped away her tears and explained. “But ever since that agreement was signed, I don’t know why, we can’t get a good price for anything.”

“We can’t grow corn as cheaply as Americans and sell our products as cheaply as they do… If we sell at American prices, all our products will just rot in our hands, and we won’t even be able to make back the shipping costs.”

"Please, we just don't want to die... God has abandoned this place, we don't need salvation..."

"..."

This woman was not lying.

What she said was indeed true.

When the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) came into effect, a large number of cheap products flooded the Mexican market, and local goods instantly lost their competitiveness, with Americans making all the money.

However, the locals cannot go without food.

So they were left with only one option—to grow crops that were more valuable and that Americans couldn't grow.

The coca market has been monopolized by drug traffickers in Colombia.

All that was left for the Mexicans was poppies.

Like this woman, many others are not directly involved in drug cultivation and trafficking, but the problem is that the profits from the drug economy inject liquidity into the shrinking Mexican market. This is the fundamental logic behind how drug traffickers can hold the municipal government and the lower classes hostage.

The soldiers who followed, especially the Mexicans from Tapachula, also showed a hint of reluctance in their eyes.

They used to be like that too.

Milton retorted expressionlessly, "Do you know how many people will die if this stuff gets out? Those anti-drug police officers fighting on the front lines, they also have families, they also have children... Aren't their lives worth anything?"

"You have the right to live, but they don't?"

Have you ever seen a widow who, at an award ceremony, held her husband's body and wept uncontrollably?

“Everyone has a reason to live, and yours is no more noble than anyone else’s—to put it another way, if I were a bad person, I wouldn’t accept your pleas for mercy.”

"If I were a good person, after eliminating the drug dealers, wouldn't I find you another way out? What's the point of you saying all this to me here?"

The woman froze on the spot.

Milton added, “Step aside… You had to drink poisoned water because you were thirsty, but that doesn’t mean you can consider drinking poison a normal thing to do.”

“You have no malicious intent and are only trying to save your lives. I can be merciful and spare your lives.”

"But from now on, if anyone pleads with me for drug dealers, don't blame me for being impolite."

“After removing these drugs, I have other uses for this field.”

After saying that, Milton waved his hand.

A ploughing vehicle drove up from behind and went straight into the poppy field.

One by one, the beautiful poppies in full bloom were ruthlessly scooped up from the soil by steel machines, uprooted completely.

The soldiers immediately followed, picked up all the poppies, and threw them onto the truck.

All the poppies here must be soaked in lime water and completely destroyed.

The Mexicans nearby watched this scene unfold, seeing the only things in the field that could fetch a price being ruthlessly crushed and uprooted. They were all helpless, as if watching their last lifeline being cut down...

Without these, how can they survive?
At that moment, the child tugged at his mother's hand and said in an innocent voice, "Mommy, let's not spend these flowers, okay? The police officers are good people, I don't want them to die!"

"..."

……

Tustra, the capital of Chiapas state.

Julio, the head of transportation in CJNG, was comfortably lying in bed, enjoying his private breakfast.

"As long as we can open up the border with Guatemala... hehe!"

"That Juarez Group is a complete waste, that Amado is a complete waste, and he's supposed to be a big boss who spun off from the Guadalajara Group. He can't beat Milton, so he uses airplanes to transport them, hahaha..."

As a rising star in Jalisco, having risen rapidly and seized vast territories in the heart of Mexico, his contempt for the old drug cartels has reached its peak.

These cartels, which control their own territories and claim to be able to rival the Mexican regular army, have caused countless tragedies, yet no one can do anything about them. They're just like that!

The northern part of Chiapas has been completely taken over; the next step is the same old trick of infiltrating the territory of that lousy tax collector.

Soon, that poor place in Guatemala will also become CJNG territory!
A woman, trying to be helpful, asked, "What's wrong with transporting it by plane?"

"Ha, the cost for him to transport drugs by plane is much higher than the cost for us to transport them by land! Of course, this is on the premise that we can control all the transportation routes and not be extorted or have our goods confiscated by those damn border checkpoints."

"I see……"

Suddenly, someone knocked loudly on the door.

"Who?!"

Julio stood up and asked.

"Boss, boss... something terrible has happened!"

That voice… Julio has a good memory; he remembers this person. Didn't he go to Comitan? Why did he come back without saying goodbye?
CJNG's cruelty extends not only to outsiders but also to their own people!
"What is it? Let's talk outside."

The drug dealer was almost crying: "Milton, that madman, has brought his men... People from Tapachula have attacked! Comitan is lost! There are so many of them, they've practically surrounded the whole city, hardly anyone managed to escape!"

"What?!" Julio roared in fury. "Lost? Comitan is lost? Couldn't even hold it for half a day? What's Vic, that madman, doing here as the mayor of Tapachula? What business is he having with our affairs?"

Vic had publicly criticized the state government on numerous occasions, but no one expected that he would actually take action!
"He not only brought Omar over, but he also invited Milton to help him, that crazy Guatemalan!"

“Milton is here too… just as I expected,” Julio said coldly. “This time he’s not leaving! We also have cooperation with Guatemalan President Alzu, and they’re keeping a close eye on his forces.”

"It seems he's killed all the men I sent. No matter, tell me how many Milton's men came. If he has many, Arsu will immediately send in his army to swallow up large swathes of Milton's land!"

Milton's army was elite, but its numbers were too small, making multi-front warfare a major weakness.

The drug dealer outside the door spoke with a sob in his voice: "No, we didn't bring many people... It seems like just two tanks and four infantry fighting vehicles? We don't know the exact number, but we feel that most of them came from Tapachula."

Julio was very puzzled: "Then how could you have died so quickly?"

"He was scared to death!" The drug dealer, who had passed the CJNG "Extinction Camp" test and had eaten human hearts raw, was already on the verge of collapse. "Milton just glanced at our boss, and he... he was scared to death! The body was even hung up. They weren't lying; he really was scared to death!"

Milton isn't a man, he's a demon!

"At least, he's half a ghost!"

"..."

Julio was almost speechless—their CJNG junior leader had actually been scared to death?

"You son of a bitch, stop talking nonsense! Men, drag this coward out and throw him into the fire pit to burn him to death!"

"Is it even ghostly..."

Hearing the screams coming from outside the door, Julio stood up, intending to get the officials in the Tustra state government to hand over their armed forces and join forces with the drug traffickers he had brought to kill Milton, or at least severely damage him and drive him back to Guatemala.

But in the end, all sorts of terrifying legends about Milton still surfaced in his mind.

And the pyramid that left even their leader Elmenjohn speechless, and the new term "jingguan" coined by Milton.

So reason prevailed over impulse.

It's unbelievable that someone could be scared to death with just one glance, but since the other person's name is Milton, Julio thought it wasn't entirely impossible.

"Let's test the waters first..."

"Somebody come!"

"Call Laun over here. Isn't he in charge of the poppy field in Comitan? Tell him to go back and take a look, and find out what's going on over there for me!"

P.S.: Don't worry, it's not a major change and won't affect the outline.

(End of this chapter)