Working as a police officer in Mexico

Jalisco, Guadalajara.

A seaside village.

The air was redolent with the smell of fish, and salted fish hung thickly outside. People dressed like farmers moved back and forth.

This was the stronghold of the Jalisco New Generation.

El Mencho truly deserved the American praise as "the most brutal, cunning, and organized" big drug trafficker. In just three months, he had managed to raise a force of no less than 300 people and he understood the importance of weapons.

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His drug traffickers were all armed with AK74 assault rifles, wore skull face masks, and were also equipped with RPK machine guns, RPG rocket launchers, Dragunov SVD sniper rifles, and even armored vehicles.

And these personnel were by no means worthless.

Most of them had served in the Mexican Army.

Of course, at the beginning, El Mencho used the Gulf Group's name and money, but he was generous. He was not stingy, paid the drug traffickers their salaries on time, and even gave bonuses, so everyone was quite loyal to him.

After hanging up the call with Abrego, El Mencho let out a sigh, "From now on, we'll do our own thing and make even more money!"

His followers cheered.

They were excited.

Who would want to be a dog for the Gulf Group when they could be their own boss?

"Find someone to make contact with Juarez and Sinaloa. We can help them smuggle goods to the United States. The routes others dare not take, I dare to take. The payment will be one-third of each cargo."

Without plantations for now, they could only start with outsourcing.

But El Mencho believed that his drug empire would eventually monopolize from the source.

"Brother, have you really decided to cut ties with the Gulf?" El Mencho's younger brother hesitated to ask.

"Abrego is shortsighted and petty, Guzman is cunning and sly but lacks a strategic vision, the Michoacán Family are a waste, the idiots from Tijuana are gone, in all of Mexico, I see only two figures."

El Mencho raised two fingers, "One is Victor, and the other is me!"

No sooner had he spoken than a bolt of lightning struck down, startling his brother, who swiftly shrank his neck and peeked out the window, swallowing hard.

His brother's words seemed exceptionally arrogant.

"The landscape of Mexico will change because of us both."

Ambition shone in El Mencho's eyes.

…

"Go up and suppress the drug traffickers?"

"Of course, no problem."

Victor was very casual, watching Alejandro rub his fingers, smiling as he said, "But shouldn't there be some sort of gesture?"

"This…"

"The big shots in Mexico City won't do anything, just tell us to go and fight to the death? No problem, I am a police officer after all, but my brothers need to eat, and I need to update and purchase my weapons. Surely they can't expect us to cover everything, right?"

"Without money, it's tough to get things done!"

Alejandro frowned; he obviously understood what Victor meant. It was nothing more than a price hike!

A warlord!

This TMD is just a warlord!

"Give me 200 million US dollars…" Victor had barely finished speaking when Alejandro shook his head, "It's harder to take money from their pockets than to snatch a bone from a dog's mouth."

"Then promote me, give me a national force of an independent drug control unit command, allow me to recruit nationwide and organize special drug enforcement operations."

After all, the Counter-Terrorism Mobile Unit (EDTV) was not entirely under his command.

Having a direct drug control force under his own command, with EDM members serving as officers, and pulling a group from the Marine Corps with financial resources and faith, wouldn't that make a small warlord?

With just this handful of people, expecting to take on hundreds of thousands, even millions, of drug traffickers in a firefight was unrealistic, given only their poor organization and discipline. Had it been the drug traffickers of around 2010 with their operational capacity, Victor would have been minced by now.

The drug traffickers of that time…

Even the U.S. Military coming in for drug enforcement had no chance.

Several helicopters had been taken down.

"This… is also difficult," Alejandro said with a pained expression.

"Difficult, then let the big shots of Mexico City fight their own wars. These are my terms, and if they agree, tomorrow I'll take my men to clash with the Gulf Group!"

"If they don't agree…"

Victor squinted his eyes, "Then I'm sorry, but the drug traffickers on Guadalupe Island haven't been completely eradicated yet!"

He didn't bother with more words and stood up, "I hope for a quick response. I have to go now, it's Sunday today, and I must attend my godson's baptism!"

Victor needed to create more value for himself within the rules.

Otherwise, the bigwigs in Mexico City would think he was still that ordinary policeman who could be beckoned and scolded at any time.

In the office, Alejandro was left alone, scratching his head in frustration.

"Boss, will they agree to these conditions?" Casare asked, looking at him.

"Why not?"

"Drug traffickers are eroding their control over the state, and I am not. To some extent, what I am doing also reflects well on their faces."

After all, drug enforcement is the most righteous cause in the world!

No matter if you're high-ranking officials or esteemed gentry, if you have any issue related to drug abuse, your public persona is sure to crumble.

Not conducive to progress!

Things that can't bear the light of day are forever the filthy refuse of sewers!

Victor boarded the helicopter, flying toward Guadalupe Island.

Today was the time for Santos's baptism.

Having promised to be his godfather, he certainly couldn't break the appointment.

Our Lady of Guadalupe.

That is, the place previously discovered to be hiding drugs.

It has reopened.

With the Duke Victor's approval, God allowed rebirth here!

At the back of the church, by a man-made stream, surrounded by a crowd, Santos clenched his fists nervously.

"Don't worry, Mr. Victor promised you, he will come," Valentina said, smiling as she stroked her son's head.

Just as she finished speaking, a roar of cheers like a mountain collapsing and a tsunami ensued.

A convoy of a dozen cars approached from afar, and when they stopped at the church's entrance, more than twenty fully armed EDM officers disembarked from the Humvees.

There was a bit of a drug lord's style to it.

Kennedy was inseparable from him, ready to take a bullet when necessary, and from his bulging waist, it looked like he packed quite a few "tools" as well.

Victor smiled and waved at the crowd.

The crowd cooperatively raised their hands in response.

On this small island of Guadalupe, perhaps it wouldn't be long before Victor's portrait was hung up.

The will of the people!

"Sorry, I'm late!" Victor said, touching Santos's face, the latter's eyes shining with excitement. He looked up at Valentina, smiled, and reached out his hand, "A pleasure to meet you for the first time, Ms. Valentina."

The latter was equally delighted. As a mother, she was very straightforward; having Victor as her son's godfather meant she didn't have to worry about Santos's future.

At the very least, there was the support of a powerful patron.

In Valentina's eyes, he was that patron.

"Let's begin," Victor said to the priest.

The new priest hurriedly nodded; he had heard that this man had a volatile temper, and the previous priest was allegedly turned into a sieve by him.

Santos lay quietly in the stream, which was specifically marked as not seawater, for if it were the nearby seawater, even Satan couldn't purify it.

Victor held him with both hands, following the priest's prayers word for word.

Under the blazing sun...

It was as if, over a thousand years ago, on the eastern banks of the Jordan River, a figure destined to be recorded in history was undergoing baptism by John.

"It is done," the priest said softly.

But as Victor pressed his hand on Santos's forehead, he added an extra sentence, "Both God and I bless you!"

The priest's eyes widened in shock.

NMD!

That line wasn't in the script, oh dear!

He really wanted to stand up and slap Victor, to defend the sanctity of his profession, but when he glanced at the burly men looking rather fierce beside him, he shrank down, silent.

The priest didn't want to meet God just yet.

He hadn't had enough fun.

A caliber that could shut his mouth.

Helping Santos up, with his hair soaking wet, he asked, "Mr. Victor, have you been baptized?"

Victor smiled, "Jesus has already died, no one has baptized me."

Priest: GNM!

He turned and walked away. Out of sight, out of mind.

Staying here, he couldn't fight nor dare to speak out.

Sooner or later, he'd damn well join the Liberation Theology!

Incense in the left hand, a gun in the right; when it's time to burn incense, burn incense; when it's time to shoot, shoot!

After Santos's baptism, Victor didn't leave. He witnessed the baptism of more than a hundred children and blessed them.

Standing on that baptismal stage, he said, "Children are the hope of Guadalupe, and the beginning of the struggle. Please allow me to call you gentlemen and ladies. From today on, you must fight like adults."

"Long live the ideal!"

The people below cheered.

But suddenly, someone shouted, "Long live Mr. Victor!"

The scene gradually became more autocratic.

The priest, hiding on the side and advanced in years, trembled at the mouth.

...