Capítulo 1457: Chapter 690: I’m Only Doing This for Your Own Good

Guns and business, Victor has always believed these are the two legs of governance, both indispensable.

One listens quietly to your reasoning.

One ensures others are well-fed enough to comfortably listen to your reasoning.

Interest + violence = compliance.

The resistance in Texas was within his expectations, even a strategy to deliberately intensify conflicts.

He needs an incident of sufficient weight to provide an indisputable excuse for further and thorough liquidation and control later on.

Late July in Mexico City.

Victor listened to Casare’s report on the violent incidents across Texas, his face showing no surprise.

“Street battles in San Antonio, we lost 11, over 30 wounded, the security auxiliary (traitors and puppet army) collapsed, nearly causing a full retreat.”

Casare’s tone was heavy, “Boss, they are not resisting, they are fighting a people’s war. Our soldiers in the open, they are in the dark; every barn, every cellar could fire bullets.”

Victor’s fingers tapped the tabletop, emitting a dull thumping sound. “People’s war?” he sneered, “Are garbage made up of White Leftists, blacks, and drug traffickers worthy to be called ‘people’?”

“They won’t endure much hardship. They have no beliefs, only violence. It won’t last.”

He stood up and walked to the large map of Texas.

“Firstly, enforce the most severe ‘collective punishment’ in San Antonio and at every site of armed attacks, where street battles erupted, the army marches in, searches house to house, any weapons discovered or any clue related to attackers, detain the entire family, even the entire neighborhood, confiscate property, flatten the houses.”

“Secondly.”

He continued, “Promulgate supplementary decree: Any community, if within the specified deadline, voluntarily and fully surrenders firearms, and no attacks on Mexican Army or officials occur within said community, the community shall receive priority reconstruction funds, additional food allocations, fuel subsidies, enjoy tax reductions, and priority recruitment as Texas public servants.”

Victor raised his finger, “Thirdly, inform our Texas capital, inform Cole Brelock and Justin Harris, their opportunity to perform has arrived, let all media under their control, newspapers, radio stations, broadcast two things for me round the clock: one is the images of the stubborn resisters being shot dead, houses flattened, families taken away, clarity, and shock are needed; two are images of those actively cooperating receiving compensation, reconstruction materials, and their joyful expressions.”

“Public opinion generates compliance.”

Victor added, “Organize those already cooperating model mayors, legislators, even ordinary farmers, to deliver speeches everywhere, to speak out, persuade those still hesitating, put down your guns, not only to live but to live better, I want Texans to persuade Texans.”

Casare quickly jotted down notes, sweat seeped from his chubby face, he understood the boss’s intent.

This is not mere military suppression, but psychological and economic war, aiming to thoroughly fragment and dismantle the societal structure of Texas from within.

Victor walked up to the window, looking at the brightly lit scene of Mexico City outside, “Life needs to be fought for. Those on a different path, we can only eliminate them.”

Obstinate elements!

The order was delivered to the Texas front line at the fastest speed.

In the resistance community of San Antonio, the Mexican Army’s bulldozers and tanks indeed rolled in.

Sporadic gunfire echoed, soon overwhelmed by even fiercer firepower.

One house after another forcibly breached amidst the desperate cries of residents, searched, then knocked down by machinery, raising clouds of dust.

Images broadcast through Mexican-controlled television stations, agitated many, but concurrently, the first town to voluntarily surrender all firearms—Fredericksburg, received promised rewards.

Truckloads of food, medicines, even some brand-new home appliances, were delivered.

Mexican engineers began repairing roads and schools for them.

The “Texas Capital” media team swarmed in, filming footage of the town’s residents “cheerfully” receiving supplies, interspersed with previous footage of San Antonio’s ruins.

A pretty female reporter with meticulously styled makeup and professionally friendly smile stood on Fredericksburg’s newly refurbished town square, behind her were residents queued up to receive subsidy food and daily necessities, a lens capturing a scene of “peace and prosperity.”

“Dear viewers, I am now in Fredericksburg, a town that has chosen peace, cooperation, and the future.”

The reporter said to the camera, “We can see that after fully complying with the promulgated ‘Safety and Reconstruction Decree,’ life here is rapidly returning to normal, even better than before, let’s hear the true feelings of the local residents.”

The lens turned to a middle-aged white woman holding a box full of food, her face showed some tension, but more release of relief and joy of benefiting.

“We just want a peaceful life,” she said nervously into the microphone, “Handing over those guns was right, before we didn’t dare go out at night, afraid of stray bullets, afraid of robberies. Now it’s better, the army protects us, and there’s this…” she weighed the box in her hand, “Flour, oil, coffee, even chocolate for the kids, these things used to be expensive and hard to buy. Now it’s better, really better.”