Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 774 - 427 The Butterfly in the North Flapped its Wings!_3

774: Chapter 427: The Butterfly in the North Flapped its Wings!_3

774 -427: The Butterfly in the North Flapped its Wings!_3

“Gena, this is the mayor, and this is the leader of the armed department.” The leading village head hurriedly introduced the woman.

She was about to nervously greet them when the mayor of San Depele City extended his hand and clasped hers tightly, saying, “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Mexico, Gena.”

“Your husband sacrificed himself on the front line.

He was remarkable, killing 17 drug traffickers single-handedly.

The Mexican Army Department posthumously awarded him the title of Battle Hero.

Rest assured, your welfare is fully guaranteed.

The government, through the Honorable Soldiers Foundation, will provide you with a 170-square-meter residence in San Depele City.

Your children will attend the best schools.”

“If you’re willing, we can arrange for you to take a position in a government department.”

As the mayor listed out the benefits, the surrounding crowd broke into astonished murmurs.

A 170-square-meter apartment in San Depele City was simply unimaginable for anyone in the countryside.

Especially for those who eked out a living from the land.

Gena looked at the “Battle Hero” plaque, and suddenly burst into tears.

The child beside her knelt on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

She was barely 25, but her husband’s death and the crushing weight of life had turned her hair white overnight, leaving her hollow and aged.

If not for her love for her child, she might have ended her life already.

Seeing her cry so bitterly, the accompanying medical personnel hurried to comfort her.

Even the villagers nearby felt a pang of sorrow…

Living in the same village for so long, bonds had formed.

Gena’s husband had always been generous and helpful; if anyone’s farm was behind schedule, he’d lend a hand.

But now, he was simply… gone.

Who wouldn’t sigh in grief?

Fortunately, the government did its job well, bringing some semblance of relief.

Back when Mexican drug traffickers roamed unchecked, a death like this would just mean a meager two-month salary payout—if even that—a victim of systemic greed and corruption.

What could anyone do?

But now, the pension given to Gena was enough to ensure she could raise her child without too much worry.

Wasn’t that, in its own way, an act of benevolence?

Even if the mayor was accompanied by journalists, well…

Judge the deed, not the intent; no one’s motives are entirely pure.

“Thank you!

Thank you!”

Gena knelt to the ground, clutching her hands and crying out in gratitude.

It made everyone’s heart sink.

She wasn’t alone in her situation.

Families in Sonora, North and South Lower California, Monterrey, and other places were all receiving independence day relief packages.

Six sacks of rice, six barrels of oil, twenty pounds of meat, twenty thousand pesos, and local officials even arranged phone calls with army relatives so soldiers could hear their families had received money.

The morale among soldiers soared to an unparalleled high.

Particularly, fallen soldiers’ families received compensation equal to twenty years of service plus a pension.

It was enough to forget about life and death.

With additional daily meal subsidies of 400 pesos—around 20 US dollars—taken into account…

Who the hell would want to retire?

Where else would you find a salary this good?

The future was secure, the pay guaranteed, injuries covered, and retirement plans ensured.

When you were older, they’d even host local events to introduce you to potential partners.

Victor had only one demand: your life.

Rewarding the army was the key to unleashing unstoppable force.

In reality, these were old strategies, but in a place like North America, they were almost unfair advantages.

Generous welfare completely bewildered the soldiers.

Once amplified through local media, recruitment numbers skyrocketed.

In a public poll, the military profession became the most “coveted” occupation.

Simultaneously, Victor’s rule grew increasingly stable.

Many were waiting eagerly for orders to act against the Southern Drug Dealer Alliance.

The boss was offering too much money—it felt almost uncomfortable to take.

Killing some drug traffickers seemed necessary, or the rewards would feel unearned.

Over just two months, salaries were untouched while money arrived in the middle of the night, to the point where homes were often overfilled.

The morale among the armed forces reached historic highs.

But on television channels controlled by Southern Drug Traffickers, commentators openly accused Victor, “It’s obvious Victor is heading toward a military dictatorship.

Why else would he pay soldiers such exorbitant wages and set up some ridiculous Honorable Soldiers Foundation?

Soldiers earning that much will be even less willing to fight when the time comes.”

“Mark my words, when war breaks out, we’ll crush those pampered soldiers, exploiting them for what they are.”

Bang!

Several beer cans flew into the television, broadcasting the protesters’ fury.

At border outposts between Mexico State and Hidalgo State, a group of burly men cursed violently, clearly drunk.

A muscular man, shirtless and with well-developed muscles, stood up, his face flushed and eyes slightly blurry.

“Hey, the Southerners say Victor in the North is a tyrant, and his overpayments humiliate the army.”

“But what about us?”

“I’ve only received one month’s salary, even though I’ve been stationed in this outpost for three months!” The burly man angrily waved his hand.

“Those bastards couldn’t care less if I lived or died!”

“Yeah, I’ve only gotten a month’s pay too—less than a thousand pesos for a month!

When I send it home, there’s barely any left, and sometimes I have to borrow money from my family!” someone else chimed in.

None of them were drug traffickers!

In the drug trafficker-controlled Southern regions, recruitment drives had brought them in with minimal training.

Their main tasks were collecting protection fees and guarding outposts.

Once war erupted, they were meant to act as cannon fodder.

Most were made up of misfits, farmers, and young boys.

“Why not defect to the North?

Let’s leave the South.” A short man suddenly suggested.

The group fell silent.

“But I heard the Northern Victor is a tyrant and kills indiscriminately…” Finally, someone spoke hesitantly.

The short man exhaled sharply and retorted, “Are we drug traffickers?

Have any of you trafficked drugs?”

Everyone exchanged glances and shook their heads.

They were nowhere near qualified to deal drugs!

In local communities, selling drugs independently would get you thrown into the sewers.

Joining criminal organizations wouldn’t even guarantee positions guarding border posts.

These men had always been poor.

“Then let’s go North.

Selling your life, one way or another, is still selling it.”

“But our families are here.

If we defect, the traffickers will slaughter our families.” Someone expressed concern and shook his head.

The short man gritted his teeth.

“Tomorrow, on our off day, one of us contacts the Northern Army at the border, while the rest of us take care of the village head.

Let’s bring the entire village along when we surrender.”

As others started voicing doubts, he scowled and barked, “Stop overthinking.

You can’t achieve anything being hesitant.

Indecision only leads to defeat.”

“You, go contact the Northern Army.

Take two brothers with you.

If anyone spots you, charge straight into the North and call for reinforcements.”

The short man pointed to the muscular man standing up earlier.

The latter, initially confident, nodded reflexively but hesitated.

“What about you?”

“I’ll kill the village head myself!”

“And wipe out his entire family!”

“If they refuse to let us live, then we’ll rise up and escape the South!”

The conflict over salary and treatment had finally boiled over.

Sometimes, it only takes a trivial incident…

To ignite the world.

In 1969, Honduras and Salvador fought over qualification for the ninth FIFA World Cup, leading to a month-long war with over 10,000 deaths.

Salvador had a population of three million, Honduras two million.

The death rate during the war reached 0.2%.

In 1914, the Sarajevo assassination led to the outbreak of World War I.

At its core, it was just an attack on Austria’s Crown Prince.

There was also the infamous Watergate scandal of 1972, where a minor intrusion led to an investigation into Nixon’s administration, ultimately forcing President Nixon to resign.

Who knows what kind of impact the Southern soldiers’ revolt over welfare disparity will bring this time…

One can’t shake the feeling—it’s going to be big.