I was a general in South America

The entire Manizales underworld and legitimate society are searching for the mastermind behind this incident.

Under Lucas's threat, Drake mobilized almost the entire city's police force.

On the streets of Manizales, you can even see the bizarre sight of police questioning passersby on the left side of the road while gangsters and drug dealers question shop owners on the right.

Police and civilians are of one mind...

The city park, about two kilometers from the police station, is actually just a fenced-off hill... Several simple walking trails have been developed as a place for residents to enjoy leisure activities on weekdays.

It can be considered one of the few public facilities in Manizales.

The park used to be a great place for young couples, but after drug dealers ran rampant and took control of the city, few people dared to take a walk there anymore.

Taking a brisk walk after meals to aid digestion is not really about wanting to become fertilizer.

The municipal government has limited financial resources, and it is already a great achievement to be able to create a park. Without daily maintenance, the park eventually becomes a wasteland.

However, things got lively today.....

A clearing has been created in a grove of trees on the hillside...

At this moment, the soldiers of the rapid reaction force stood in a solemn row, blocking the reporters who wanted to enter, and even forbidding them from raising their cameras.

The events of last night are being spread by word of mouth even among the farmers in the fields. Reporters are like sharks that have smelled blood, searching the entire city for all kinds of information, determined to be the first to publish the front-page headline.

After all, this matter involves rapid reaction forces...

For the media today, the name Lucas Bolivar Franco means sales figures.

Whether they are local journalists or expatriates from major newspapers and television stations, life in Manizales is actually not good.

This city has no Pablo...it's neither an economic center nor a cultural center.

It's difficult to come up with news material that's sure to get your breath away.

Drug dealers commit murder...?

Street shooting...?

Or is it kidnapping and extortion...?

Please, the people of Colombia are already tired of this kind of news; it's not even as popular as the president forgetting to wash his hands when he went to the toilet last night.

No breaking news means no sales.

No sales mean no salary.

Ever since the police station incident, they've been absolutely in love with Lieutenant Lucas... he's practically a human news-making machine.

The newspaper's sales after the last incident even exceeded the total sales for the previous year, and it received commendation from headquarters...!

Not to mention, many journalists support Lucas's anti-drug efforts... After all, those who can still work as frontline journalists in Colombia still have some sense of justice and uphold certain principles.

In the morning, as the rapid reaction force's convoy passed through the city, their hound-like sense of smell immediately detected that something was amiss.

We were followed by a crowd and arrived at an abandoned park... We were stopped by soldiers outside for almost two hours, and my thirst for news grew stronger.

Please, just look at it...

My whole body is itchy...!

One hot-tempered man, after being repeatedly interrupted by soldiers as he raised his camera, couldn't help but protest, "We are journalists, the country has granted us the right to conduct interviews, you can't block us like this..."

I thought that speaking out would garner support from my peers, which I used to coerce the military into letting me pass...

But, the next second, he could feel the pressure that had been squeezing his arm and encroaching on his space vanish almost instantly...

Turning his head, he saw that the crowded queue suddenly cleared a space about a meter wide around him.

His colleagues, those uncrowned kings...

At this moment, everyone looks at them like they're looking at a monster. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul and can speak... but their eyes all seem to be saying the same thing.

We don't know him...!

The reporter, still looking confused, suddenly understood why his colleagues were bewildered...

The black muzzle of a gun was pressed against his head...

"Step back...!"

Half an hour later.

Moreno approached the queue and addressed the reporters blocking the entrance: "Enter in an orderly manner, do not crowd, and do not make loud noises. Once inside, you will only have one minute to take photos. Violations will be treated as espionage."

After saying this, don't wave at the soldiers; instead, part the ranks in the middle to create a gap.

With their view suddenly opened up, the usually energetic reporters now stood like obedient robots, lined up in a single file, keeping their feet down and not daring to whisper to each other.

After walking about ten meters, you'll reach a corner.

The reporter at the front stood frozen in place, the impact to his back not moving an inch. Seeing this, the people behind him quickly went around him.

God...!

Oh My God......

The reporters stared wide-eyed at everything that came into view.

On the outskirts of the forest, there are five trees with a small stone tablet next to each tree. From a distance, it can be seen that there are no words written on them, but rather a photograph attached to them.

On the tree branches above the grave, there are the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4...

Five graves, five trees, and fifty corpses hanging neatly in rows.

Teru Teru Bozu (Sunny Doll) made by drug dealers...

Clearly, this was the first time the journalists had encountered this, and they even forgot to use their cameras.

There were a few other voices at first, but now the scene was completely silent...

The police station was attacked, the drug cartel in the Basel Commune was raided, and several clues, including the officer's instructions, came together.

They quickly understood everything, including the fifty hanging figures before them—Lucas's revenge on the drug dealers...

The people buried under the tree must be the soldiers who died last night...

After understanding all this, the reporters' expressions also became serious, and they turned their attention to the man whose back was to them.

Lucas Bolivar Franco.

.....

He saluted the tombstone...and turned around.

Lucas changed out of his civilian clothes and put on a peaked cap. His dark green uniform looked even more refined, with a gold tassel running from below his right shoulder epaulettes down in an arc along his right breast.

The end is fixed to the second button on the right.

The solemn attire and sharp gaze both indicated that this special occasion was not ordinary.

"Last night, five brave Colombian soldiers were killed in an attack by drug traffickers. They did not die for the army, but for you, for their homeland, for all of Manizales, and for all Colombians. Since 1964, this city and this country have been harmed by drug traffickers."

"Just as God needs to suffer to return to heaven, the night before dawn also needs to endure the darkest hours. Justice will not let any murderer who harms Colombia go unpunished, and drug traffickers are not invincible."

"For every soldier who dies, ten drug dealers will be killed. I, Lucas Bolivar Franco, will not accept any compromise, no threats, no possibility of negotiation, and no room for compromise."

"We will fight for Manizales to the very end, until death do us part...!"

"Starting today, anyone who provides information about drug traffickers to the rapid reaction force will receive a reward as well as military protection."

"Let's declare war on all drug dealers!"