Taxes are only within machine gun range!

You'll understand after reading Chapter 62.
After sending the people in the room away, Milton quickly returned to his own room, went to bed, and closed his eyes to sleep.

After doing this for the past few days, my biological clock is completely messed up.

With a blink of an eye, it was 12:30 pm—no one dared to disturb Milton's rest here, but he didn't sleep very soundly.

There was no other way; there were just too many enemies.

As Milton got up and left his room, he saw Lydia diligently cleaning, with several newspapers from different media outlets laid out on the table.

Milton casually picked up one of the portions, along with a piece of bread, to quickly fill his stomach.

“A heinous atrocity… The Fan Kang gang attacked a checkpoint last night, resulting in the deaths of at least 10 prosecutors and the destruction of countless assets.”

The photos accompanying this report show a checkpoint engulfed in flames, numerous inspectors lying in pools of blood, and the corpse of a member of the Fan Kang gang.

The checkpoint is not far from here, and anyone can verify the authenticity of the photos in an hour.

Once people are convinced that some unbelievable things in a report are true, they will subconsciously believe other content at the same time.

Even if the content is completely fabricated.

At this moment, Flora, who had also just woken up, came up and vigorously shook the newspaper in her hand: "'Tax collector,' you see? The four of us were really amazing last night! The reporter you found was quite reliable too."

"The quality of this report is actually mediocre, with too many sensationalist headlines, but Olya wrote it overnight, so her writing skills are indeed quite good."

Flora laughed heartily: "Valta and the checkpoint suffered such heavy losses this time. I can already see what it will be like for you to become the master of the checkpoint in the near future."

Milton swallowed the food in his mouth and shook his head: "You're too optimistic. On paper, this operation did almost nothing to actually hurt Varta, except for stopping the checkpoint's collusion with the Van Con gang."

"Valta's rise to station chief was a result of his own armed forces and his own strength. It wasn't because he was the station chief that he was strong."

"His core armed forces were all taken out and did not suffer significant losses in this sneak attack."

Flora took a big gulp of water and casually exclaimed, "Well, at least it caused him some financial loss, so it's not bad."

“Come on, let’s do a simple math problem.” Milton went to the canteen, grabbed a can of baked beans with tomatoes, and asked, “Aside from Carlos’s personal assets, how much money did we take from the checkpoint this time?”

Flora counted on her fingers for five seconds and replied, "The shipment was worth more than $5 on paper. If we include the $15 worth of banknotes, the buildings we bombed, and the people who died, let me give you a slightly higher figure. The checkpoint should have lost $30 on paper."

The true value of those medical supplies, like the military frequency-hopping radios Milton had previously captured, cannot be simply calculated using price.

But since it's mathematical statistics, we don't need to consider these factors.

Milton opened the can, forced himself to eat it, and said, "It won't be long before you see news reports of the checkpoint losing at least 1000 million ghats, or 100 million dollars."

Flora was taken aback.

Milton continued, "Yes, from a purely financial perspective, he might even be making a profit. Varta has been the stationmaster for so long, he must have a way to 'reimburse' this loss."

"Damn it!" Flora couldn't take it anymore. She slammed her hand on the cup in anger. "We risked our lives to steal 30, and he can just talk his way out of it and get 70?"

That's right, 70% of them belong to other people.

Milton had almost finished eating, stood up, and said, "To challenge the existing order, one must face such difficulties."

"The good news is that we're no longer facing an alliance. The bad news is that both the Van Conn gang and the Varta are much stronger than before."

Flora ate with great relish. After finishing all the beans, she asked, "Who are you planning to deal with first? The Van Kang gang or the checkpoint?"

Milton chuckled and turned to walk towards the door. "Is there any need to say more? It can only be Van Kang's gang. I've said it before, you have to become powerful first before you're qualified to be the stationmaster." "Alright, you guys continue guarding the pharmacy, and go check on Brandon at the shady clinic. He should be waking up soon."

"The wine bottle arrived! As you wish!"

"..."

Upon arriving at the entrance, Milton glanced around the old street and saw that, under Lutz's command, sandbag spikes had been piled up at the entrance, and simple sentry posts had been set up. "Poison" and "Anvil" were hiding in the sentry posts, ready to be deployed at any time.

The two people who were not identified as "allies" by the system did not appear in key positions.

Not bad... Milton nodded. At least this gives us a little bit of "strategic depth".

At this rate, it won't be long before the old streets become Milton's sphere of influence.

Although they decided to temporarily band together due to external pressure and in order to protect themselves, it was easy to band together, but it would not be so easy to break free from Milton's control later.

"Boss!" Lutz saw Milton and quickly came over. "The old streets are under control now. Is there anything else that needs to be improved?"

"That's good enough. Offense is the best defense." Milton glanced at it briefly, didn't find any major problems, and waved his hand. "Let's go check on Brandon."

"it is good!"

A few minutes later, the two entered the shady clinic—just as Milton had guessed, the surgery had been successfully completed, and Brandon was transferred from the operating table to a ward.

Brandon's face was still pale and weak, showing that he had just suffered a serious injury, but his breathing was steady and he no longer had that frightening "death aura" from before.

Milton asked, "Was all the shrapnel removed?"

"Cleaner than my wallet," the doctor joked with a laugh. "After a month of rest, he'll be able to go with you to attack America. Honestly, it's a miracle."

From rescue and surgery to the supply of equipment, almost every step was done to the best of their ability.

Even if there are channels to access the equipment, it would be difficult to complete the task in just 2 hours!

"..."

As the anesthesia wore off, Brandon's consciousness snapped back into his mind. He opened his eyes and saw the doctor and his boss by the bedside.

He struggled to sit up and looked at his thighs, terrified to see the empty pant leg: "My leg..."

"Don't worry, it couldn't be better. Don't move!"

"Then my lungs..."

"No problem, don't worry, the surgery was very successful and there will be no aftereffects."

Brandon was relieved to find that his leg was still there and that he could still breathe. His body went limp. "Ah, that's great... Thank you, boss. Thank you, doctor!"

The doctor chuckled and said, "No need to thank me, just thank your boss, he deserves the most credit."

Brandon asked, somewhat puzzled, "Does the boss also perform surgery?"

The doctor turned around, picked up a newspaper from the table, and handed it to Brandon, his smile unchanged: "See? You'll understand after reading this."

(End of this chapter)