I was a general in South America

Camp 3 is less than a 20-minute drive from the Cato branch office.

The rapid response team arrived at the chaotic police station in just over ten minutes.

The body of the attacker, covered with a white sheet, lay quietly at the doorway.

Herrera, his face blackened by smoke, was helping a police officer who had just been injured in the explosion to rest against the wall.

Fortunately, there were only four liaison officers on duty, and there were no casualties, but the scene and the people looked very disheveled.

Upon seeing the rapid reaction force's military vehicle, Herrera, clutching his arm, limped over.

"Lieutenant Lucas, the temporary unit has lost a total of five men. Based on reports from others, the attack was definitely carried out by drug traffickers."

He struggled to keep his legs from giving way, and as the adrenaline subsided, fear began to creep in, making him tremble as he spoke.

"A police officer named Diego was attacked by a drug cartel's boy scouts..."

This was the first time Herrera had ever experienced something like this in his professional career, something that usually only appears on the front page of the news.

At least in Manizales, I've never seen drug cartels operate so brazenly.

But it was clear that the other party only threw a grenade at the police station and did not go inside to kill anyone; the whole operation seemed more like a response to Lucas's warning.

Herrera was truly terrified, especially by Diego's death... Even though he prided himself on being cowardly, cunning, and timid, a surge of anger welled up inside him.

If there is even a sliver of hope in Colombia, this dirty and bloody country... it lies in those children.

Even Pablo Escobar, who was known for blowing up entire families, never used Boy Scouts in assassinations during the bloodiest times in Medellín.

I was already on the verge of collapse, but thankfully Lucas arrived...!

But what Herrera really wanted to do was, "Lieutenant, can I request a transfer?"

"Cheer up, don't embarrass yourself... Waaah."

Lucas patted him on the shoulder, ignoring the slumped face, and walked expressionlessly to the fallen team member.

He understood that making this decision meant someone would have to sacrifice themselves...

On another level, Lucas himself pushed these dead soldiers to the gallows.

But I don't regret it!

It wasn't because of any grand cause of sacrificing oneself for the greater good, but because Lucas himself had already placed himself on the gamble of fate.

If anyone can still bring hope to this country, it will only be Lucas Bolivar Franco.

However, these practices have crossed certain red lines.

Using children for assassination...?

It seems we haven't killed enough people...

Next is my turn.

Lucas lifted the white sheet, revealing that the blood from the dead soldier's wounds had congealed into black.

Some of them had no intact fabric left on their uniforms, their deaths were extremely tragic.

The surviving members of the temporary unit had tears streaming down their faces, biting their lips tightly to try not to make a sound.

Even the elite soldiers of the rapid reaction force lowered their heads and remained silent, their eyes filled with murderous intent.

Who is Diego?

"The fifth one from the right."

When Herrera heard Lucas's question and saw Diego's face again, he choked up a little.

Lucas nodded, then knelt down on one knee and personally stroked his face from left to right with his hands.

The vanished souls are now at rest...

With each blink of an eye, his expression grew colder.

When he came to Diego, Lucas tore off his epaulettes and gently placed them in Diego's hands.

Everyone who saw Lucas's actions felt sad but also deeply moved; the small gesture made them all feel respected.

In this rotten country, death brings a semblance of dignity.

"Herrera, find their families and provide them with $500 a month for living expenses until they die. If they have children, provide them with schooling opportunities, with all tuition fees calculated separately until they turn 18."

After giving Herrera his orders, Lucas then instructed Moreno.

"Moreno, you are in charge of compiling all expenditures and submitting death benefits to the military as if you were a regular soldier."

"Completion guaranteed."

"clear."

Seeing the two nod solemnly and firmly, Lucas stood up, looked around, and roared.

"The war has begun...!"

"I can't guarantee you won't sacrifice yourselves, I can't guarantee when you will sacrifice yourselves, but I can guarantee...!"

"As long as Lucas Bolivar Franco is alive, the Third Team will take care of your families and raise your children."

In Colombia, a human life is worth less than $200. Perhaps all it takes is a small bag of cocaine for a desperate criminal to kill someone for you.

Even for soldiers, if they are just ordinary soldiers without connections, the compensation they receive might not even amount to five hundred US dollars after being skimmed off from the military headquarters and down the ranks.

Lucas has already demonstrated his stance through his actions, and there is no more solemn promise than these words.

The soldiers, especially those in the regular troops, were deeply moved.

Each operation comes with a generous bonus. Having been in Manizales for only a short time, the bonuses received may be more than a year's salary.

They never withheld military pay, and the camp's supplies were provided without restraint.

Now, it is guaranteed that in the unfortunate event of your sacrifice, the military will continue to take care of your family and children.

It might not be trustworthy to trust others, but Lieutenant Lucas is worthy of complete trust.

For Colombians, if there's anything in the world they can't let go of, it's their family.

Family is everything to Colombians...

At this moment, everyone raised their heads, their sad expressions gone, replaced by determined gazes.

"war..!"

"war...!"

A deep, hoarse roar came from each of them; at that moment, they had only one thought: to follow their commander and fight against all enemies.

"Herrera, where is the largest drug cartel in Manizales?"

"The Basena Commune used to be the largest drug manufacturing plant for the North Valley Group. Now the factory has moved... and those who remain are mostly drug dealers."

Herrera blurted it out almost without thinking, his voice firm and eager to act immediately, perhaps influenced by the atmosphere just now.

After listening to Lucas's words, the fear and timidity in my heart dissipated.

"Inform Chief Leon Drake to mobilize police forces to block off all streets leading to and from the Basena Commune. If he disagrees, I will treat him as an attacker."

Without waiting for Herrera's reply, Lucas led Moreno directly to the car.

"Moreno, get everyone ready. We're departing in fifteen minutes. Our destination is the Commune of Barcelona."

"clear."

"Tonight's target is the Basel Commune. We've lost five soldiers, so we need the blood of fifty drug dealers to appease their spirits... We won't stop until they're all dead."

The temporary unit lost a total of five soldiers. According to reports from others, the attack was carried out in a manner similar to that of drug traffickers.