I was a general in South America

Magical realism refers to embedding incredible elements within a highly detailed realistic background.

Colombia, a country where reality and dreams intertwine.

One-third of the people here work for drug lords, another third are preparing to work for drug lords, and the remaining third are partners of drug lords.

Caldas Province is located on the western side of the Central Köhler Mountains.

In a village not far from the capital Manizales, loudspeakers on wooden utility poles along the roadside broadcast announcements.

"Buzz...buzz...Colombian National Radio, the U.S. Southern Command has publicly stated that it will fully support all anti-drug operations by the Colombian government...buzz...buzz."

The beacon of democracy in America has begun to shine.

The reality was quite the opposite: police officers stood in a row with guns in the middle of the road, struggling to hold back the surging crowd.

Ragged farmers, holding banners high, charged at the human wall while shouting angrily.

That's right... the man printed on the banner is the biggest drug dealer in the history of this planet.

Pablo Escobar.

"Drive the Americans out!... Colombians don't want war, they want peace!!"

"We want to go into the city! We want to march!"

The enraged crowd seemed ready to tear the policeman in front of them apart.

Tap. Tap.. Tap...

The rapid gunfire was like pebbles thrown into a lake, and the scene fell silent instantly...

At this moment, everyone noticed that four military Humvees carrying heavily armed soldiers had arrived at the scene and stopped some distance away.

Under the dark muzzles of the two M249 machine guns, the crowd fell silent.

The soldiers in the back row quickly jumped out of the jeeps to stand guard.

A policeman with a "Sheriff" badge on his shoulder ran quickly to the car, wiped his sweaty hands on his uniform, and took out a cigarette from his chest and handed it to the window.

"Excuse me, are you Lieutenant Lucas Bolivar Franco?"

Upon hearing this, the handsome young officer's eyes twitched involuntarily...

He pondered for three days and three nights but still couldn't figure out how his father, who was of Native American descent, could combine those two names together.

There was no time to explain how I time-traveled; I've already become...

Commander of the third squad of the newly formed rapid reaction force in the 4th Mountain Brigade of the 5th Division of the Colombian Army.

Second Lieutenant Lucas Bolivar Franco, whose training lasted two and a half weeks...!

Of course, once the full name is spelled out, it's time for the next chapter.

I guess I've managed to get into the system in this lifetime.

Unfortunately, reality is as messed up as ever; it's the Colombian system.

What's most infuriating is that he discovered he could earn points by capturing or killing criminals after traveling through time, which could then be redeemed for rewards.

However, all rewards are tied to military rank and position, and can only be unlocked after promotion.

Isn't this forcing him to become a public servant to the Colombian people...?

Lucas didn't answer, ignoring the cigarette the sheriff offered him, and took out a cigarette for himself. The guard lit the lighter and brought it to his face.

hiss...

The cigarette crackled softly as it burned, and the hand outside the car window hung awkwardly in mid-air.

Turning his head to the side, a strong puff of secondhand smoke sprayed onto the sheriff's obsequious old face.

"Vaio Herrera, police precinct chief."

Director Herrera paused for half a second, then immediately realized what he meant: "...Yes."

Lucas then pointed to two other police officers on the roadside: "That's José Luis, and next to him is Griffith...?"

With a slightly questioning tone, he turned his head and glanced at the guard sitting next to him.

"That's right, it's them, Captain."

With each name called, Herrera grew more nervous: "Lieutenant Lucas, do you know us?"

"Your wife is a dance teacher in Manizales, right?" Lucas said, raising his hand and drawing two waves in the air. "Her figure is amazing, so curvy, she's a stunner!"

The bureau chief's face flushed red as he was about to speak when Lucas suddenly stared coldly at him and changed the subject: "Didn't the people from Kitakura tell you that this is my garrison's jurisdiction?"

"I...I requested assistance from my superiors because I was afraid of riots."

Herrera felt a chill run down his spine under her gaze, his voice trembling slightly, and his eyes darting around, avoiding her direct eye contact.

He had seen that look before; people with only a few drops of blood on their hands weren't this scary.

Suddenly, Lucas's expression changed and he smiled. He reached out and put his arm around Herrera, pulling him closer to the car. He gently patted Herrera's shoulder and comforted him, saying, "Relax, Wao, don't lose your composure."

"You're saying it's normal for a few policemen to die when the army is suppressing riots? What kind of merit are you asking for?"

Two fingers are raised slightly, click... the sound of a bullet being chambered is crisp and uniform.

"Lieutenant Lucas..." Herrera swallowed softly, and her body began to tremble slightly.

"Relax, tell your men to take control of the Kitani people."

Lucas slapped a pack of Marlboro cigarettes into his hand, the open pack revealing a roll of US dollars.

"Bullets or dollars?"

Herrera didn't struggle for long; there's an old saying in his hometown: "A wise man submits to circumstances."

Don't ask who the Colombian police are working for; if you give them enough, they might even be from Chengdu.

The performance was incredibly lively and vivid...

After collecting the money, Herrera displayed professionalism, calmly returning to the roadside and quietly giving instructions to the two brothers.

The two brothers nodded slightly, and the three of them walked toward the crowd of demonstrators.

With the arrival of the army, the restless masses had already calmed down; after all, everyone was a good boy within range.

They walked up behind the two policemen, suddenly drew their guns, pressed them against the back of the officers' heads, and simultaneously grabbed the gun holsters on their waists, shouting, "Don't move! Put your hands above your heads and squat down!"

The movements were fluid and seamless, executed in one breath...!

The drug dealer posing as a policeman was stunned, the policeman blocking the crowd was stunned, and even the demonstrators were stunned.

Aren't you here to arrest us?

Lucas couldn't help but applaud even while sitting in his car; the drug dealers were starting to help the police maintain order!

He breathed a slight sigh of relief. If he had directly ordered the army to disperse the crowd, the two drug dealers from Beigu would have taken advantage of the chaos to fire a shot.

According to tradition, the village's annual feast can last from the beginning to the end of the year.

Lieutenant Lucas, who had only been in his new post for less than half a month, could pack his bags and go back to being a private.

Seeing that Herrera had brought the situation under control, he instructed the people beside him, "Take some men over there and take over, and separate the crowd."

Moreno received orders, got out of the car, and rushed over with his soldiers.

"The 4th Brigade's rapid response force received orders to arrest drug dealers. Spread out, men on the left and women on the right."

Lucas looked at the separated crowd, his eyes gradually turning fierce.

Just a few days after rejecting Kitani's cooperation, this kind of thing happened in our jurisdiction today.

Fun, I love playing it!

Soon the two drug dealers were stripped naked and made to kneel in the middle.

Snap... Snap...!

Military boots tread on the solid ground.

The whispering crowd fell silent, their eyes revealing a hint of fear as they stared at the newcomer.

"We received orders from the military that some police officers who had defected to drug trafficking organizations would attempt to create a riot during the rally."

Lucas kicked the kneeling drug dealer to the ground, then stomped hard on his head.

"That's why we rushed here on orders to crack down on drug traffickers. The arrests are now over, and those who want to enter the city can go to Manizales later."

Upon hearing this, the villagers all took a step back, fully aware of the consequences of a riot.

"You are Judas's henchmen, betraying the Colombians!"

Suddenly, an old woman in the crowd threw her drawing board out and shouted loudly.

"Put your hands up!!"

Upon seeing this, all the soldiers roared and immediately raised their guns to aim... The retreating crowd isolated the old man.

The old woman stood there, her hands raised, her dark face filled with an unusually firm gaze: "Shoot me! You only dare to point your guns at Colombians!"

"When the Americans first came, they also said they were cracking down on drug traffickers, but every time all that was left was burned land. At least we could still eat a bite of food by growing coca for Pablo."

The silence was deafening.

And on the fallen canvas, Pablo Escobar is smiling at you.

It's like a cat-and-mouse game; growing coca requires no technical expertise and the costs are pitifully low.

They only need to wait until the troops leave before coming back to force these villagers to continue planting.

For the Colombian government, the greater threat comes from the armed guerrillas hiding deep in the rainforest.

Because drug lords can cooperate, but those people want a revolution!

Lucas didn't reply, not wanting her body to lie in his bed the next day.

He pulled out a pistol from his waist, aimed it at the drug dealer he was standing on, and pulled the trigger.

bang... bang...

The two drug dealers each took half a magazine of bullets and lay convulsing in pools of blood.

The crowd did not scream; their cold, empty eyes stared at Lucas's retreating figure.

"Hang them both on the utility pole."

cruel..?

For Lucas...

Every time the trigger is pulled, it's not just for points, but for the foundation of an empire!