Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 99 - Zero Negative Reviews

Night combat is inherently a great challenge for both sides.

However, when Fan Kangbang's camp was set on fire and various noises arose, and the high-ranking officers in charge chose to flee, they lost all their advantages.

Milton could clearly see the other side burning and jumping around from a distance, yet Van Conn's sentries hadn't even noticed such a large convoy!
Even though the recoilless rifle on the armored vehicle had fired twice, destroying two sentry posts, Fan Kang's men still didn't realize that someone had started attacking them from land.

"Their outer outposts are still intact..."

"But it has completely lost its defensive function."

Brandon swallowed hard and muttered to himself, "I thought they were throwing incendiary bombs to suppress the fortress, but it turns out they didn't suppress it at all; the fortress just vanished!"

Yes, in the raging fire, the fortress that was originally the headquarters of the Fan Kang Gang had completely "melted" in the extreme heat.

All the armored vehicles were burned through and then exploded, and all the concrete structures collapsed because the load-bearing structures could not withstand the high temperatures.

Most of the gang members on lookout duty had fled back from Malakan town. After seeing the core area of ​​the fortress "evaporate," many of them simply laid down their weapons and chose to run away.

The rout further exacerbated the already dire situation of the Van Kang Bang fortress's defenses.

Losing lives in battle is not a simple addition problem.

If a combat formation of 100 people is planned to exert 100% combat power, when the number of people is reduced to 50%, the combat power will not be halved, but will be reduced by 20%, leaving only 20% or even lower.

Milton is very good at beating a dog when it's down.

He turned on the walkie-talkie and gave the order:

"Fire! Prioritize high-value targets!"

"Machine gun fire! Take out all the enemies you can see!"

"Charge! Seize the position!"

"We must keep them trapped inside the fire and not let them out. I can have steak medium-rare, but I'll have human flesh well-done!"

"..."

Just as the infantry fighting vehicles were about to rush into the camp, the flustered Fan Kangbang finally realized that someone was attacking them on land, and the attack had been going on for quite some time.

Seeing that the 25mm cannon on the infantry fighting vehicle was firing at high speed and that the recoilless rifle on the armored vehicle was firing continuously, each shot could take at least one life, a large number of gang members who were originally waiting for the fire to subside also began to flee.

"Run! The tanks are charging!"

As for loyalty?

They'll do anything, as long as the price is right or the cost is high enough.

"Don't run! Gather together and fight back! There aren't many enemies! Rocket launchers, go get the rocket launchers!"

"There's a huge fire behind us, where else can we run?"

Some of the more ruthless gang members still tried to put up a last stand, but the others didn't care about them at all—in this situation, whoever ran the slowest would be responsible for covering the rear, and they couldn't be happier to have more of these companions.

As for rocket launchers?
Most rocket launchers simply cannot withstand the high temperatures of napalm bombs and would have exploded long ago.

The remaining rocket launchers were also accurately targeted and killed by infantry fighting vehicles with a longer range.

Several high-ranking gang members were still trying to organize a counterattack, but before they could say two words, a shockwave from who-knows-where sent them flying into the air.

Before they died, these people saw their own backsides flying off, and they also saw the mortar positions firing not far away.

The sporadic resistance lasted only five or six minutes before collapsing completely.

No more gunfire could be heard from the enemy's impregnable fortress; only faint screams remained.

Milton, wearing a mask, jumped off the armored vehicle, looked at his masterpiece, and nodded with great satisfaction.

As expected of napalm bombs, which are praised by the US military, we should definitely stock up on more in the future!
Brandon jumped out of the car, looked around, and was utterly bewildered: "Is this...is it over already? Have all the enemies been wiped out?"

Apart from Flora's NATO trio, the other combat members all looked bewildered, feeling an extreme sense of unreality.

In their view, this offensive was bound to be a tough battle, a battle in which casualties were unavoidable.

Our side has infantry fighting vehicles, while the enemy also has armored vehicles, heavy machine guns, and rocket launchers, and they also have a terrain advantage from a higher position.

They even stationed a temporary elite squad of drug dealers there.

Why are gangs like Fan Kangbang and checkpoints able to act with impunity in the vicinity? Isn't it because these forces are too powerful, and no one can defeat them, or the cost of defeating them is too high?

Everyone was wearing bulletproof vests, prepared for injury or even death.

But when the fighting actually started, most people didn't even fire a single shot. They just sat in the car, swaying and rocking all the way, and by the time they got out, all the enemies were already dead.

What are they hitting?
"Firepower! Information!" Milton patted Brandon on the shoulder. "The logic of war has changed. It's no longer about point-to-point exchanges of paper data, understand?"

"It's no longer about who has more guns, more armored vehicles, or stronger fortifications to determine who is stronger."

"Instead, I'll first use my aircraft to destroy your fortifications and armored vehicles without taking any damage, then use my armored vehicles to deal with your infantry without taking any damage, and finally use my infantry to sweep away the remaining unarmed defeated soldiers without taking any damage."

Armored vehicles are not meant to be used to directly confront enemy armored vehicles, but rather to bully infantry.

Flora couldn't help but nod: "Yes, yes, that's exactly the taste. The only problem is, if you keep frying like this, everything will be burned to ashes. We won't be able to leave any weapons, money, or jewelry. We'll just have to search for precious metals."

Napalm, with added oxidizers and thermite, can reach temperatures of up to 2500 degrees Celsius when burning. Even Jesus' hands would be burned through if he tried to catch it, let alone valuables.

Apart from precious metals, probably very few things can escape this fate.

Its use on humans has garnered zero negative reviews.

“They definitely have gold,” Milton said. “Everyone, split into groups of three and search for anything of value… There might still be enemies who haven’t been burned to death, so be careful.”

"Roger that!"

Everyone is very excited.

This guy's totally here to collect spoils!

Moreover, these were spoils of war acquired without any actual combat.

Milton, Brandon, and Flora walked in one group, accompanied by a war correspondent named Olya, who was taking pictures around with her camera.

The group arrived at a collapsed house.

Beneath the rubble, two gang members, their bodies charred black, were writhing in agony, seemingly trying to hide in the room and wait for the incendiary bomb to extinguish, only to have the entire house burned through by the bomb.

This level of burn is equivalent to an extremely painful suspended death sentence.

"Kill me, kill me...please..."

Milton chuckled knowingly. "Why did you have to hide inside? Wouldn't it have been so much more pleasant to just get burned to death outside? Now look what happened, you have to suffer this painful death."

With a sarcastic remark, Milton simply stepped over him and walked to a safe that had been burned through.

As expected, all the banknotes and jewelry in the safe had turned to charcoal, leaving only the melted and then solidified gold.

"Take it and put it back in the car."

After giving the order, Milton quickly went to another room to see if there was any surviving money inside.

Brandon then turned to look at the still-boiling water tank on the side—clearly, the Van Kang gang was fire-conscious, as such a large camp had piles of sand, a water tank, and fire extinguishers.

However, none of these things seemed to have been put to any use.

“I can imagine what just happened here.” Even as the attacker, Brandon was shocked by the scene before him. “I can understand that splashing water won’t put out a fire, but, but why can’t jumping into the water put it out either?”

"Fan Kang's gang has been stewed into meat soup, they're really well-cooked."

"Boss, you know a lot, do you know how to save yourself if you're engulfed by this kind of flame? What if I get hit by this thing someday?"

"This is far more terrifying than being shot or blown up by artillery. I don't want to roll around in a sea of ​​fire for minutes or swim in boiling water for minutes before I die!"

Nonsense, in another ten years or so, misusing this thing will land you in a military court.

Of course, the prerequisite for being sent to a military court is defeat in battle.

Milton glanced at him: "Theoretically, there's a chance to extinguish a fire using complex chemical methods. Give me a lab, and I can teach you how. But on the battlefield, once a fire starts, it's impossible to put it out. There's no way to extinguish it; the only way is to prevent the enemy from hitting us."

The thermite reaction can burn through armor and concrete in just a few seconds; even God couldn't save it.

"too horrible……"

Despite her fear, Olya, the war correspondent, walked to the pool and began taking pictures with her camera.

While Brandon and Milton were searching for things, Matteo suddenly exclaimed in surprise from the side.

"Boss! Come quick, we've found some amazing stuff! Super amazing stuff!"

"Oh? Where is it? Let me see."

Milton, who had initially thought he wouldn't recover much health, immediately looked up upon hearing this and quickly walked over there.

Soon, in a half-collapsed but seemingly large house, Matteo and Luz excitedly dragged two bound people out of the basement and threw them on the ground.

Milton looked closely and was overjoyed.

Holy crap, isn't that Raul, the leader of the Van Kang gang?!

What a coincidence!
Milton had previously thought the guy had perished in the fire.

“Mr. Raul, we’ve always corresponded by letter. This is our first time meeting in person. Why have you made yourself look so disheveled? It’s not good for you to be standing. Kneel down right now.”

As he spoke, Milton kicked Raul in the knee, and the gang leader screamed and fell to his knees.

"You... Milton?! What are you doing here?"

“Good heavens! Ladies and gentlemen,” Milton exclaimed, spreading his arms wide as he laughed at his companions, “He still doesn’t know who attacked him.” Matteo smiled maliciously, “Raul, you’ve finally met your match! Did you ever think you’d end up like this when you killed my family?”

"Who are you? Which one are you referring to?"

"Fuck your mother!" Matteo roared, immediately launching a barrage of punches and kicks at Raul.

Milton only pulled Matteo away after Raul's nose was broken, and continued, "Alright, alright, enough nonsense, Raul. Now you should seriously think about how to convince me to spare your life."

Raul let out two "hoarse" sounds: "Everything I have, you burned it all to ashes! I'm finished!"

“I don’t believe you don’t have a bank account. Just because the deposit certificate was burned doesn’t mean you can’t withdraw the money,” Milton said coldly. “Hand over the money.”

Soon Milton will be able to seize the checkpoint. Once he has the official title of checkpoint chief, he will be able to collect the stolen money transferred through the bank.

Now, he can accept bank transfers.

"If I give you the money, will you let me go?"

Milton said calmly, "I will make you walk from the sky. You know I have the ability to do it."

Walking from the sky...

Raul suddenly remembered the "helicopters" Milton had used to bomb him.

What he was most worried about was that he would be stripped of all his feathers and his men would all die, and that he would indirectly cause heavy losses to the minor leaders of the Sinaloa Group. Even if Milton really spared him, he would not be able to escape.

But... if Milton were willing to give him a helicopter so he could escape by air, this problem wouldn't exist!
If he could escape to the United States, he could buy a plane ticket to Canada or Australia and fly away—he couldn't possibly hand over all his assets to Milton.

Raul was immediately tempted.

"'Hell Tax Collector,' you... are you telling the truth?"

"Tell me your bank account details and transfer method. Don't test my patience."

"Money, I can give you the money. But what about the properties in Tijuana and Juarez?"

Milton said calmly, "I just want the money."

"Okay! It's a deal!"

"Brandon, go to the car and get my cell phone. Contact Veronica at headquarters to verify if Raul's transfer method is genuine."

"Roger that!"

"..."

After "persuading" Raul, Milton turned his gaze to another person's face.

“I remember you. Not long ago you mailed me a video recording. Is this the creativity of Mexicans? It’s impressive.”

Hector's eyes widened as he looked at Milton: "You, you are, Milton?!"

That lowly tax official he looked down on?

He's that strong? He has armored vehicles, helicopters, and incendiary bombs with devastating power?!
Are the people in Guatemala really not exaggerating?
The armed forces that Hector brought were more than capable of sweeping through a city in Mexico.

He didn't even last half an hour against Milton... When did Guatemala produce such a dangerous person?

Milton kicked him in the groin and smiled, "My mother taught me to introduce myself by my name before I speak. What, don't you have a mother?"

“I am Hector! My boss is Joaquin Guzman! I am an important member of the Sinaloa Group, you…”

Milton kicked him in the face again, laughing as he asked, "Before you speak, shouldn't you thank me for not killing you? Don't you know how to be grateful?"

"Damn... Thank you! Thank you!!!" Hector suppressed the murderous intent in his eyes. "Are you done venting? If you're done, can we negotiate? The people I killed in that video weren't yours. We have no hatred between us. You're strong. Let's cooperate. The Sinaloa Group welcomes strong people to join us."

Hector really wanted to negotiate quickly and gain his freedom as soon as possible; he didn't even have the heart to curse Raul—because he had an armed force that would be arriving in 24 hours.

These guys definitely can't beat Milton, who has a helicopter.

He didn't want to lose another elite squad.

Milton chuckled condescendingly: "Oh? How do you want to talk? Kneel down and say it."

Hector felt deeply humiliated—even high-ranking Mexican officials wouldn't dare speak to him like that, yet a garbage official from a shithole country dared to.

He used both threats and inducements: "You should understand how important this land bordering Mexico and Guatemala, namely the state of Chiapas, is... Right now, our Sinaloa Group is vying with other groups for control here, and we have the upper hand. It won't be long before this land is ours."

“The ‘territory’ I’m referring to isn’t the so-called ‘territory’ that trash like Van Cong occupies two streets to collect protection money. What I mean is, it won’t be long before the Sinaloa Group becomes the de facto state government of Chiapas. If you go against us, you won’t have a good ending.”

“You know I’m not lying—even the Mexican regular army can’t beat us. Now I’m giving you a chance to do business with us, guarantee the security of our freight routes, and I’ll immediately write you a check for $100 million, clean and after tax.”

After catching his breath, Ectorton paused, then looked at the group: "You live in an extremely poor country where most people earn just over a thousand dollars a year. Even if you, Milton, control the checkpoint, that number will only be a few thousand at most. Is earning that little bit of money a good thing?"

Upon hearing "several thousand," the soldiers couldn't help but laugh.

Hector raised his voice in embarrassment and anger: "What? Don't you want to have more money than you can spend in this lifetime, live in a villa with a private pool, travel by private jet, and wake up to beautiful women by your side?! You think such a life is far away from you? No, as long as you nod your head, this life will be yours!"

"Do you really want to stay in the cesspool of this cesspool country?"

"..."

Milton finally stopped laughing.

In fact, he has many theories, such as the reasons for the formation of the cesspool, that it became a cesspool because there were too many people like Hector, how to build it for sustainable development, how miserable and hardworking the people here are, and what kind of power such people can unleash, etc.

But Hector is not worthy to hear these things.

Reasoning with drug dealers is useless; what they fear is napalm.

Other things can be discussed, but there is only one principle for drug dealer Milton—fight to the end, never surrender.

So Milton said, "First, even if I rob you, I'll still become very rich. Second, didn't your mother teach you not to insult other people's countries?"

Hector rolled his eyes and asked, "So, you agree?"

After moving out of the Sinaloa Group, his attitude became increasingly arrogant.

"Give me the check."

Hector was finally relieved: "Then, it's a pleasure to cooperate."

Milton didn't reply. Only after receiving the check did he look around—people were constantly bringing out their spoils from the basement.

Milton pointed to a bag of white powder and asked, "Is this your shipment?"

“Ah…yes.” Hector looked quite proud. “After the North American Free Trade Agreement was signed, trade between Mexico and the United States surged, and we took the opportunity to expand our market. Let me tell you, this little bag can sell for $1.”

"By the way, could you let go of me... it's hurting a little because of the tightness."

Milton picked up the bag, weighed it in his hand, and asked, "I heard this stuff can relieve pain? You should use some."

"That won't do... You don't understand, this is pure, it can kill you if you take it. Painkillers need to be processed."

“I know, I’m telling you to eat.” Milton stepped forward, squatted down, and coldly pried open his mouth. “Eat it all, and the pain will go away.”

Hector's eyes widened suddenly: "You..."

However, Hector soon lost his voice because he had been forced to swallow more than 200 grams of powder. He immediately began to vomit violently, his pupils shrank rapidly to pinpoints, and his face turned cyanotic.

Milton ignored Hector, whose muscles were twitching, his whole body was convulsing, and who was already doomed.

He turned to look at Raul, who was trembling all over and whose teeth were chattering.

Raul was terrified by what he had just witnessed.

Using extremely inhumane incendiary weapons to roast human bodies, directly using a bag of such valuable drugs to execute enemies... When had he ever seen such methods?
Raul used to not need to reason; he could easily deal with law enforcement officers who needed to abide by the law, had families, concerns, and humanity, by any means necessary.

Until Milton arrived.

This person has one significant difference from his previous opponents.

He was ruthless and unscrupulous.

"me……"

Milton looked at Brandon and asked, "Any news from Veronica? Is the transfer method working?"

Brandon nodded, giving an affirmative answer: "Yes."

Raul quickly laughed and said, "I told you, it's true! All my things are yours now. Can you let me go? Can you give me a helicopter?"

Milton turned to look at Raul, patted him on the shoulder, and smiled kindly, "Mr. Raul, let me ask you a question... Do you know the difference between you and Santa Claus?"

Lauder had a bad feeling, but he swallowed and shook his head slightly.

"The biggest difference is that Santa Claus enters the house through the chimney, while you... my friend, unfortunately, you can only leave through the chimney."

After Milton finished telling the hellish joke with a blank expression, he got up and dragged Raul toward the still-intact fireplace in the half-collapsed room.

He had some fuel emptied from the vehicle, poured it on Raul, ignored Raul's screams and curses, and set it on fire.

White smoke billowed from the chimney.

In fact, not only gangsters and drug dealers, but even Milton's teammates, and even Matteo, who had a blood feud with Raul, were frightened.

Milton is fucking terrifying, and in a very creative way.

How could someone possibly come up with a hellish joke about their method of murder before actually committing it?!

Brandon took a deep breath, stepped forward, pointed to the drugs on the ground, and cautiously asked, "Boss... these things seem quite valuable. What... what are you planning to do with them?"

P.S.: Also, tonight.

(End of this chapter)