Chapter 1236: Chapter 602: Science? Mysticism?

The world is boiling.

The Middle East conflict, internal strife in the United States, the European Allies; now the only safe places seem to be Antarctica, the Arctic, and Asia, especially Japan, whose head is buzzing with fear that the neighboring rabbit might find an excuse to strike.

Old grudges remain.

July 24.

Medellin announces the recruitment of 300,000 soldiers and the hiring of mercenaries, individuals or teams are welcome, with a minimum daily salary of not less than 5,000 US Dollars!

On July 25, the Cali Cartel announced that it would form the “Anti-Alliance Foundation” with the Medellin Cartel, pledging 6 billion US Dollars to support the war, and inviting peers, anti-Mexico, anti-Victor, and those against hegemony around the world to contribute to the fund.

The account details were also released online and through news outlets.

Chepe San Cruz, one of the Cali Cartel’s Four Godfathers, spoke passionately to the camera, “Friends, on this scale of morality and humanity, no one is a mere onlooker. Even when facing a towering shadow, we must believe that the flickering light of millions of hearts will pierce the veil of darkness, allowing the vast galaxy to once again flow over the fields of freedom!”

“Thank you!”

There’s no denying his words carried a touch of tragic grandeur, and sporadic donations began to appear in the account, accumulating significantly over time.

Watching the teary-eyed Chepe San Cruz on television, along with the panic-stricken Medellin residents on screen, Casare felt a pang of distress and glanced at the boss, “Should I turn off the TV?”

“This makes us seem like the villains.”

Victor flicked the ash from his cigarette into an ashtray and exhaled, “We’re not afraid of propaganda warfare. If they want to fight us, we’ll fight. But the key is to be cautious of someone smuggling weapons into Colombia. There are always reckless people, always some trying to cause us trouble.”

The arms dealers aren’t afraid of death; they fear having no business!

As long as the price is right, they’d hide a gun barrel in their anus for you.

Casare chuckled wryly, “It’s not that simple… Colombia’s land borders are too long, stretching 6,343 kilometers and touching five countries: Panama, Venezuela, Ecuador, Brazil, Peru. All are significant smuggling nations, especially Panama. Goods come through the canal, and then it’s a quick overland journey into Colombia. On the sea, it’s even more connected with Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Honduras, Jamaica, the Dominican Republic, Haiti. Total blockade is virtually impossible.”

Victor nodded slightly after a moment of silence, “Do your best. If they don’t bring in atomic bombs, we can’t lose this war!”

His words were emphatic.

Nonsense!

It’s the authority versus bandits, with control over the skies. Isn’t this just a game?

July 27.

Carlos Leder, a Medellin leader, spoke excitedly to the reporters, “In just two days, we have received 30 billion US Dollars in donations. We are deeply grateful…”

He paused, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a piece of paper, “Thanks to the US International Development Agency, American Human Rights Alliance, American Gun Association, American Anti-Mexico Alliance, Israel International Development Agency, Japan…”

The reporters beside him were stunned. Could this even be said?

Was he placing them on the grill?

Yet, the reporter was perceptive, seeing Carlos Leder’s eyes filled with fierceness tinged with madness, knowing Medellin did it on purpose!

They intentionally did this to spark conflict between Israel, the United States, other contributing entities, and the Mexican side, dragging them into the fray.

The idea was ambitious, but what of reality?

The news stirred a major wave, revealing that besides the United States, many blatantly sponsor drug traffickers!

The internet was flooded with curses immediately.

“Really just to target Mexico, they’ve lost all shame!”

“Being able to betray justice today, what about tomorrow? If aliens invade, would they betray humanity?”

“Indeed, the United States is the world’s stinking dung, Israel is the Middle East’s rotten crap. This is utterly disgusting! Disgusting! Disgusting!”

“Norman Schwarzkopf, screw you! You won’t have a son with an anus, I’ll curse your grandson to sickness and death, to avenge those killed by drug traffickers.”—ID American Wizard Association Spiritual Member.

“Boom!”

Norman Schwarzkopf stared at the comments on the computer, feeling his blood pressure rise, especially the last curses and threats, making him uneasy. Underneath was a photo of a skull with gibberish scribbles and a picture attached of his favorite granddaughter.

A nail nailed through the skull in the photo, with mysterious liquid dripping down, sending chills to those who saw it.

“Bastard! Beast! Scumbag!”

Every curse imaginable burst from Norman Schwarzkopf’s mouth, losing his composure entirely. He paced back and forth in the office, frowning tightly.

Medellin had sold him out, leaving him in a tricky spot.

The need to negotiate with Mexico was imminent; this could cause trouble!

No way!

Absolutely no trouble can arise!

He grabbed the phone, “Get Charles Grassley over here, quickly!” He shouted, hanging up angrily.

Approximately seven or eight minutes later.

Senate Speaker, Charles Grassley, gasping as he knocked and came in, “De… Defense Minister, you called for me?”

His speech was shaky; according to the Constitution of the United States, the Senate Speaker’s authority sometimes surpasses the Defense Minister’s. Upon the sudden death of the President, in the succession line, he ranks fourth while the Defense Minister is sixth. But what could be done? The military is in charge now.

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