Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 288 The "Catch" Presented to the President

feed?!
The major's expression changed immediately. If it had been back when "Hell Tax Collector" had just become famous, they might have been stunned for a moment, wondering what Milton was talking about.

But now?
Whenever they heard these strange things, they knew that Milton must be up to something terrifying again.

"and many more……"

Milton waved his hand: "No need to wait. I heard from some people that you are a VIP and have priority boarding. I have already processed your expedited paperwork. You can go to the fishing boat now without waiting."

"?"

The major wanted to say something more, but the soldiers wouldn't give him time to waste on the capital ship. They roughly dragged him onto a small boat and took him to a fishing boat next to it.

There was a blender there that was perfect for them.

Milton looked at the machine guns that were conserving ammunition and firing short bursts, and said, "Building a navy requires more than just a fleet. We also need specialized supply ships... Otherwise, we'll end up like today, where a warship has to return to port to resupply once it runs out of ammunition."

Flora complained, "It should have been possible, but after this battle, we might not have that much money left."

This is true.

The high-intensity airlift supply almost completely depleted Milton's fiscal surplus and points in one go.

If this drags on for a few more days, Milton won't be able to afford to fight either.

“It’s alright, this big battle is about to end,” Milton said. “This time I’ll be more careful and try to capture as many people as possible, squeeze all their money out of them before killing them.”

As they spoke, the sounds of gunfire from the shore gradually subsided.

At the same time, ships carrying large numbers of "prisoners of war" began to approach.

Soldiers were continuously being escorted onto fishing boats—of course, all their weapons and equipment had been unloaded and captured, slightly replenishing Milton's already depleted points.

"Buzzing..."

On the fishing boat, the temporarily moved mixer has already started working.

The chilling sound of flesh being torn apart, and the screams that echoed across the sea and reverberated through the sky...

But soon, these sounds disappeared completely.

Some fishing boats came to "collect the goods," while some speedboats carrying prisoners of war came to "deliver the goods."

The screams rang out once again!
buzzing...

"what--"

“‘Hellish tax collector,’ please, oh!!!”

"..."

Milton simply didn't hear these pleas for mercy—and even if he had, he wouldn't have paid them any attention.

After an unknown amount of time, the sound of the blender disappeared.

Not a single extra sound could be heard from the sea.

The last few fishing boats took over the remaining "feed" and slowly sailed away from the area, strictly following the advice of fisheries experts, and began to release the feed in different sea areas.

As the matter drew to a close, Milton, while returning to port with the "Guadalajara," radioed the commander in charge of the pursuit: "What's the situation on the beach?"

“Reporting, Mr. Godfather!” The interim commander replied very quickly. “At first, they put up some resistance, but their morale quickly collapsed, and many of them even fought each other to get on the ship.”

"Most of the enemy soldiers who failed to board the ship chose to surrender, while a small number chose to jump into the sea."

"According to estimates, the enemy suffered irreparable losses exceeding 5000! We can say that the side that completely annihilated the Allied forces has suffered an epic blow!"

"We won!"

Milton chuckled softly. "Yes... we've won here, but the battle isn't over yet. I wonder how the enemy forces planning to attack Solora feel upon hearing this news?"

"..."

……

San Jose.

As one of Guatemala's most important port cities, this place was originally very, very prosperous and bustling.

But just yesterday, this place suffered a horrific looting.

The government troops suddenly appeared without any notice or warning, and began indiscriminately requisitioning all fishing boats!
Moreover, this requisition was extremely violent. Fishermen who were preparing to go out to sea to fish were forced to hand over all their boats unconditionally by soldiers with guns pointed at their guns.

There was no compensation whatsoever, nor was there any guarantee of return.

No one can escape this tax unless they pay a large sum of money—except for those fishing boats that are very lucky and were neither in port nor returned to port when the tax is levied.

Furney was such a lucky fisherman.

"Furniture..." In a small restaurant filled with the smell of fish, a fisherman with a white beard took a sip of beer mixed with alcohol, "Do you think my boat will ever come back?"

"……Ugh."

When Furni heard this question, he could only give a wry smile.

return?

How to come back?

Televisions are now very common. Even a small, run-down restaurant like this has a black and white TV. If you're interested, you can learn about the news and current events every day.

With the fighting so intense, the sudden appearance of soldiers to seize fishing boats must indicate a military need.

Everyone knows how powerful that "Hell Tax Collector" in the Northeast is; so far, he has not even suffered a single defeat.

Those terrifying armored vehicles and the intimidating "Guadalajara" warship couldn't withstand the "Hell Tax Collector's" attack. Once the small fishing boat went to the battlefield, could it possibly return unscathed?

The man drinking beer continued rambling, "I'm fine myself... but my child who needs to see a doctor, if we run out of money for medical treatment, the doctor might kick him out of the ward."

"That damned beast who stole my boat, I've remembered his face, I'll never forget him, I'll haunt him even as a ghost..."

Furney was relieved that his little wrecked boat was still in his hands, so he comforted himself, "Look on the bright side... I heard that someone refused to hand over his boat and ended up having both his hands chopped off and his tongue pulled out. He's probably sunk to the bottom of the sea and is dead by now!"

"Damn it!" Under the influence of alcohol, someone finally couldn't hold back his anger. "I heard that everyone in 'Hell Tax Collectors' can afford bread, everyone can afford medical care, and you can easily earn close to one or two thousand dollars a month doing any job. I also heard that you can buy a whole bucket of fried chicken for just one qchar!"

"Unlike us, we can only eat these broken fish and crabs! We earn a little money, but we can't even save a penny."

"I'm fucking fed up with this life! I'd rather Milton invade... this damn war!"

"Shh!" Furney was startled. "You can't say things like that. The cops are arresting people everywhere. A lot of people have died on the front lines. The prisons are almost empty. Even prisoners are going to the battlefield... The cops have heard that they have performance targets. If they don't arrest enough people, they'll go to the front lines themselves."

"If they hear you say these things, they'll definitely take you to the battlefield."

"..."

“Old Furney!” The man took another sip of his drink and said with a wry smile, “I…I need to ask you for a favor, is that alright?” Furney sighed, “Alas, I only have seven or eight thousand gechars on hand right now, and I can’t lend you any more.”

“No, it’s not about borrowing money.” The man shook his head, his voice a little humble. “Could you… could you reserve a seat for me on your boat? I’m asking for less money than anyone else. I’ll fill my stomach with fish. I… I just need a little bit of my salary to buy medicine for my child.”

"May I?"

Furni rubbed his forehead: "It's not an unreasonable request... Of course, it's no problem. It's just that, as you know, my old ship doesn't yield much each day, so it might not be of much help."

"That's enough, that's enough!"

"..."

The man seemed to see a glimmer of hope for survival. He stood up gratefully and said to the bartender, "I'll pay for Furney's drinks! God... it's so hard to find a job these days."

Guatemala's industrial base was already very, very poor, and then the war hit, making money suddenly became a luxury.

There is no "fallback plan" here, such as "I can just go to the factory and tighten screws if all else fails".

Once people lose their skills and talents, they immediately lose their source of income and, barring unforeseen circumstances, quickly become homeless.

The two barely managed to fill their stomachs before leaving the restaurant and heading to the dilapidated fishing boat.

Both were experienced fishermen, and the two worked together very quickly. Soon, the fishing boat picked up the other two sailors and set sail together.

Once out to sea and making sure no cops were listening, Furney sighed, "I wonder how many of Arsu's useless army will be wiped out by the 'Hell Tax Collectors' this time?"

"Hehe! They're going to requisition fishing boats. I bet a lot of people have died. I think there must be several hundred."

"Surely not? It's only been a short time, and hundreds of people have already died?"

"..."

The two chatted as they steered the boat to their usual fishing spot and began to cast their nets.

They continued chatting while they worked.

Funi punched his lower back with his fist and continued, "Otherwise, why would they requisition our shabby fishing boats?"

"Sigh... At this moment, I suddenly feel that my child and I are somewhat lucky. No matter how crazy the people of Arsu are, they shouldn't go so far as to recruit a patient from a hospital, right?"

"I don't think so... They're capable of anything. You should go to the hospital regularly to check on things, just in case something goes wrong..."

"..."

Furni nodded silently, stopped talking, and focused on his work. Time passed quickly, and it was time to close the net.

The two stood at the gunwale, and Furney started the winch. The chains taut and creaked, whipping up large clumps of seawater. The net rope dug into the winch pulley, and the net slowly lifted off the surface. The winch motor sounded more muffled than usual, and the pulling speed was noticeably slower—the net seemed heavier than usual!
"Oh?"

"Are you so lucky this time?"

"Could it be that we just happened to run into a school of fish?"

Both of them were somewhat pleased.

Catching more fish means earning more money. In an era where the ghetto is becoming less and less valuable, no one has the means or awareness to exchange currency, and no one has any financial management awareness. All they can do is work harder, catch more fish, and sell them for more money.

Money is losing its value, so the only option is to earn more...

However, as more and more of the fishing net emerged from the water, an unusual weight became more pronounced. The creatures inside the net did not seem to struggle like live fish; instead, they were completely still.

What they pulled up didn't seem to be fish or shrimp.
"It can't be that we've found some treasure that the Spanish fleet dropped here before..." Furney muttered. "If that happens, we'll be rich."

"Do you think that's possible?"

"Let's see what it is first. It would be troublesome if we found a pile of garbage."

A few minutes later, the net was finally fully out of the water, hanging outside the ship's side, dripping seawater.

Furney frowned, leaned closer, and stared at the dense, white mass. It was indeed a white...object, but not the smooth white of a fish's belly. He reached out his rough hand and brushed aside the seaweed and some scattered debris clinging to the edge of the net.

He's been fishing for so long, and he's never caught anything like it before.

Upon closer inspection, Furni suddenly paused in surprise.

A bad feeling immediately rose in his companion's heart, and he quickly asked, "Fernie, what's wrong? Are you alright?"

Wow!

Furney didn't reply. He sat down on the deck, his eyes wide, his finger trembling as he pointed towards the fishing net. For a moment, he couldn't even speak clearly.

His companion then looked in the direction he was pointing.

The next second, his gaze froze.

The net was not filled with fish, but with a mixture of flesh, fabric and bone of all sizes, broken and misshapen.

There were arms that had begun to rot, heads with their eyeballs falling out, broken bodies, and skeletons...

The fact that they hadn't even surfaced was enough to show that these people hadn't been dead long enough!

"They are... soldiers?!"

"I rely on! I rely on!"

"These are all corpses, all corpses!!!"

"Just how devastating are the losses at the front... How many people have died?!"

What, hundreds of people...

The fact that they could easily scoop up a huge pile of corpses was enough to show that at least one large army had been completely annihilated and slaughtered!
The front lines are finished!
"What...what do we do?" Furney suppressed his fear. "Should we...continue fishing, or...or call the police?"

"..."

After the question was asked, silence fell over the ship once again.

A full half minute passed before Captain Furney finally said, "Let's not call the police, lest we get dragged to the front lines by the cops... With so many people dead now, who knows if they'll go crazy?"

"Moreover, the army's command must have a way of knowing what's happening at the front. People have been dead for so long, they must have known the news long ago."

"This is the gift that the 'Hell Tax Collector' gave to Arsu... We... we'd better not worry about it."

His companion swallowed hard and asked, "Then, what about these things?"

Furney fell silent again.

"Put it back..."

"Just treat it as fish food."

"On the bright side, this is actually beneficial to us?"

(End of this chapter)