Chapter 661: The Red Sea's Wild Waves (End)

On Santa Monica Beach in Los Angeles, under a sun umbrella, Shiler picked up a coconut, took a sip of the water, then shook his head and said, "This coconut isn't even as good as the kind on the island..."

"These are all fast-growing commercial coconut trees; they aren't even native to Los Angeles, so of course the taste won't be good," Lei Ting said, also holding a coconut while lying on a lounge chair.

Lying on the beach, feeling the sea breeze and watching the waves, was indeed very relaxing, but after staying for only a short while, Shiler stood up and said, "An old friend invited me to dinner. Are you coming?"

"No, I'm waiting for the beach party tonight. Los Angeles beach parties are very famous. Don't you want to wait?"

"I have no interest in that noisy pop music." After saying this, Shiler stood up and turned to leave. He finished the coconut, threw it into a trash can, and then drove to a family-style seafood restaurant located in Santa Monica.

After entering the restaurant, he reported his reservation number, and the waiter enthusiastically led him to his seat. After he waited there for a while, another figure walked in.

Clark took off the backpack he was carrying, sat in the seat opposite, and said, "Professor, I'm sorry, I'm a little late."

"It's nothing, let's order." After Shiler finished speaking, he beckoned to the waiter. After getting the menu, the two ordered quite a few seafood dishes characteristic of Los Angeles.

"I'm very sorry, Professor. I shouldn't have come to disturb your vacation, but I am indeed a bit troubled... Well, if you don't want to listen, that's fine too; just consider me to have come for a trip." Clark looked around the restaurant; the decor here had a unique West Coast flavor he had never seen before.

And when the dishes were served, he was attracted by the rich aroma. Clark sniffed, and seeing Shiler pick up his knife and fork, he then picked up his own cutlery to prepare to eat.

"That you would come to find me is indeed a bit surprising. After all, shouldn't this be the preparation period for the track and field team? Don't you need to train?" Shiler asked while using his fork to peel the shrimp on his plate.

"I was originally training, but suddenly a group of strange people approached me. They said they hoped I would go solve a crisis and save America." Clark sighed, his face full of worry as he said, "I thought they were scammers, so I angrily drove them away. Who knew they were actually from the Anquan Bureau."

"Because I accidentally hurt them the first time, I felt a bit sorry, so when they invited me to dine, I agreed. They booked a high-end restaurant, which made me feel a bit at a loss. That was truly the most distressing meal I've ever had..." Clark's eyes were full of conflict; he had almost written all his emotions on his face.

One has to admit, Shiler truly loved patients like this. He didn't need to say anything at all, didn't even need to ask, and Clark would dump everything out, even explaining his own mental journey clearly.

"While eating, they mentioned that massacre case that happened in a Mexican village..." As soon as this matter was brought up, the anger in Clark's eyes grew. He said, "I read the previous reports, and when I saw those pictures, I was truly very angry. I don't understand how there could be such cruel people."

"At the same time, I also sympathize with those massacred villagers and really want to help them. The Anquan Bureau approached me and told me they had found the culprit of this massacre, but because they were very cunning, the Anquan Bureau couldn't deal with them..." Clark's expression began to become conflicted again, seemingly feeling that what the Anquan Bureau said was absurd.

"They said only I could deal with that group of evil executioners. They hope I will go to Mexico to save those villagers who might be massacred, and also save all of Mexico and America..."

Clark sighed deeply and said, "Cat Getan told me they were talking complete nonsense. He said the logic of these agents from the Anquan Bureau is a mess, and they can't even make up a lie, but..."

Clark was a bit dejected, constantly repeating the action of cutting his food. He said, "Fine, I know, I'm not as smart as Cat Getan. When they told me about this, I was still more concerned about those innocent villagers."

"I know they want to use my power, and might even want to achieve some evil goals. I know the most rational approach is to ignore them completely, but I'm just a bit... I feel that if I don't do this, it will seem too cold and heartless." Clark had completely lost his appetite. He put down his cutlery and stared at the seafood feast on the table with no appetite at all, even though just minutes ago, he had felt very hungry.

Shiler observed Clark. He felt that Clark's somewhat overly high moral baseline couldn't be entirely attributed to his family upbringing; it certainly had to do with himself as well.

He hoped to help everyone he could help. If he didn't help, he would feel it was his own fault. But even for Superman, there are only 24 hours in a day. He is not omniscient and omnipotent, so there will always be places he cannot help.

Those people he didn't help might not even know Superman exists, so they wouldn't resent Clark. However, Clark always groundlessly fantasized that if he didn't help these people, they would encounter even greater tragedies due to his negligence and omissions.

The core of this thought is actually an evolution of persecutory delusion—that is, an overly severe estimation of the consequences of anxiety-inducing events that have not yet occurred, and then imposing the potential harm of these illusory consequences upon oneself in advance.

Human mental strength is destined to be unable to bear present and future anxiety simultaneously. Clark was now trapped in this state. Even if he knew the Anquan Bureau had no good intentions, once he thought about more villagers being massacred if he didn't go, he would feel very painful.

"So, do you want to go?" Shiler asked.

"My reason tells me that things might not be as they said at all. They want me to go, and they have no good intentions; they want to use me, so I shouldn't go." Clark frowned, revealing a painful expression. His rational and emotional feelings were tangled into a mess inside, leaving him unable to judge what behavior to take.

"There are too many uncertain states in your heart. You aren't sure if what they said is true, you aren't sure about the state of the villagers, you aren't sure what is actually happening on that continent, you aren't sure what you will see after you go..." Shiler tapped the plate lightly with his fork to attract Clark's attention, then pointed to a plate of grilled fish in front of him and said:

"What do you think of this dish?"

"I think... well, it's okay. The fish should be quite fresh, but I don't really like this preparation; there's a bit too much chili." Clark answered somewhat distractedly; he didn't know why Shiler would ask such a question.

"You saw this dish being served, you saw its color, smelled its fragrance, and tasted its flavor. Based on these facts, you made a positive judgment. In this process, did you feel conflicted?"

Clark thought seriously for a moment, then shook his head and said, "No, this isn't difficult; it's just a dish."

"What you are doing now is equivalent to not seeing this dish, not smelling its fragrance, and not tasting its flavor. You did nothing at all, just sat there out of thin air, feeling painful because you couldn't give a judgment." Shiler speared a piece of grilled fish, examined it in front of him, and then said:

"But the fact is, if you haven't tasted it, you simply cannot give a judgment. God is the same; no one can make a judgment on something they have never seen, heard, or tried, right?" Shiler looked at Clark.

"So, I should go see, go listen, go try? But even if I have these facts, is my judgment necessarily correct?" Clark asked.

"That is another question. These facts will provide people with confidence, allowing them to have faith in their own judgments. If you still feel unconfident after collecting all the facts, perhaps it is your mindset that has some problems. What do you think?"

Clark thought again, then stretched out his hand and said, "If an ordinary person makes a wrong judgment, then at most they might mess up a job, or cause some trouble; the worst is just going to jail."

"But if I make a wrong judgment, I might kill a lot of people, or even destroy a country, perhaps... perhaps even destroy the Earth. I don't know, I simply dare not imagine..." Clark pursed his lips; his expression had always been somewhat worried, already hovering on the edge of anxiety.

"It seems you have already deeply realized the gap in power between you and ordinary people. You feel you are an outsider, wanting to integrate into human society by helping others, but you are also afraid of the terrible consequences that might arise after a mistake, and therefore you dare not make any judgments at all..."

Shiler said as if talking to himself. Clark's problem was still quite troublesome. A lion living among a colony of ants, because of the difference in physical state of existence, is very difficult to solve all similar problems through simple psychotherapy.

"The only advice I can give you is that, regardless of whether you can make an accurate judgment after collecting the facts, it is better to collect the facts first. Seeing is believing; perhaps after seeing it, you will have different thoughts." After Shiler finished speaking, he put down his knife and fork and wiped his mouth.

Clark sat in his original seat and took a deep breath. He was very good at listening to other people's advice. Since Shiler had said so, he decided to go to Mexico to see for himself first. Anyway, for him, it was just a matter of flying for a short while.

The Mexican government and the Anquan Bureau had not thought about using air power to search for that group of people who were giving them such a headache.

However, the person leading them didn't know who had given him pointers; the underground work he was conducting was truly underground work—that is, in the underground of Mexico.

As mentioned before, the boss of the Guadalajara drug trafficking organization, Gallardo, had once annoyed the Congress and the Anquan Bureau due to a case of torturing an agent to death. The entire organization had been subjected to great suppression, and as of today, the entire Guadalajara organization was actually at the end of its rope and about to fall apart.

And at this time, another famous drug lord was emerging—that is, "El Chapo" Guzman. This drug lord's reputation was much bigger than Gallardo's, though he was indeed a member who had split from the former Guadalajara organization.

Guadalajara's luck had run out, while the new organization was emerging. Guzman's ability to lead the pack relied not only on his wisdom and smoothness but also on his clear thinking.

His method of drug trafficking was different from everyone else's; he didn't take the water route, he took the land route.

Many people know that while maritime drug trafficking is very profitable, the risks are also high. Once blocked, the entire ship's cargo would capsize in an instant.

The drugs manufactured in Mexico didn't have such tight packaging; once thrown into the sea, there was no chance of salvage, which was equivalent to the entire ship's cargo being washed away.

During the drug war, the Anquan Bureau and the US Navy grasped exactly this point. As long as they caught a drug dealer's ship, it didn't matter if they killed people or not; the cargo was definitely all dumped into the sea.

After a few times like this, even a large family couldn't withstand it. Guadalajara's collapse also had reasons related to being unable to support itself economically.

As for Guzman, he directly gave up transporting by sea and turned to land transport. However, customs on land were not to be trifled with. Human drug trafficking was inefficient and not suitable for large-scale cargo transport. Bribing customs for inspection required a large amount of capital and wasn't cost-effective either.

The new method Guzman found was digging tunnels.

Of course, in the distant Eastern country, this could no longer be called a new trend, but on the South American continent, using underground passages for drug trafficking was still quite fresh.

Guzman dug an underground passage in San Diego to transport drugs to the United States in large quantities. This was a verified fact, and moreover, after he was arrested, his method of escaping prison was exactly the same—that is, the drug trafficking team under his command dug a tunnel leading directly to the prison to rescue him.

This literal ground mole once made the US government very headache-prone. The tunnel method had high initial investment and slow returns, but once built, it was very difficult to deal with.

Of course, as of the first half of 1989, El Chapo Guzman hadn't started to exert his strength yet, and the San Diego tunnel hadn't been dug yet. However, in every country where agriculture is the main industry, cellars are indispensable storage equipment. The labor wisdom of farmers cannot be underestimated; the tunnel warfare of the past was developed from this.

Actually, Oliver hadn't expected the movement he developed to go so smoothly. At the beginning, he himself was confused, just harboring a sense of guilt, wanting to compensate the farmers who had been harmed by the Quinn Group's drug business.

At the very beginning, his Spanish was very unskilled, and he could only communicate by mixing English and sign language. Fortunately, Oliver was also very smart and learned languages quickly. He only learned the most important words quite proficiently and then conveyed them to the farmers he knew.

But what he didn't expect was that the farmers in Sinaloa could be said to be filled with righteous indignation. When Oliver first said the phrase "Violence is the only means," it was like emotions that had been suppressed for a long time finally erupted. They all began to curse continuously in Spanish and decided to join this movement.

Later, Oliver learned that this also had to do with the recent policies of the Mexican government and the local situation.

Before this, the Mexican government had capital controls, meaning foreign capital could not enter Mexico at will. But in 1989, which was this year, the Mexican government abolished capital controls, and a large amount of foreign capital flooded into the country, including many short-term speculative investments.

Anyone with a slight understanding of economics should know that foreign capital will make up for the current account deficit and at the same time increase the value of the country's currency. However, once the currency value increases, the competitiveness of the country's export goods will be weakened.

And with foreign capital, the Mexican government underestimated the risks brought by the current account deficit, so it would lead to a larger deficit, which would require more foreign capital, and the competitiveness of export goods would become even weaker.

After the current account deficit reaches a certain proportion of the gross domestic product, it will induce a very terrible collapse, and history has proven this point. In 1994, the Mexican economic crisis swept the world.

When capital controls were just lifted, the first to be hit was the local pillar industry—agriculture. When foreign capital enters the country, besides investing in existing industries, the first demand is land, and farmers are based on land.

Not to mention, the Mexican government simply didn't have the level to regulate all foreign capital. The first farmer Oliver met had his land sold, but he himself was completely unaware, and the factory built was an empty shell that didn't open at all and didn't provide any job positions, so he and his wife were both unemployed.

He went to other places to make a living, and the situation was the same. Everywhere there were displaced farmers, and those workers with formal jobs faced similar situations. Local enterprises were squeezed out of living space, but foreign-funded enterprises didn't provide them with better job positions.

Oliver discovered that these people hadn't read theory, but they had all realized a truth through their own experiences: that is, in the face of this situation, only violence is the only means.

And the theory Oliver brought, as well as his superior wisdom, made up for their last short board, so the farmers' and workers' movement in Mexico began vigorously.

However, at this time, Oliver was not yet Green Arrow. He had only spent a few months on the deserted island, not years. His martial arts hadn't been honed to be very excellent. Although he could temporarily achieve tactical victories with the help of underground passages and the local people's familiarity with the situation, the situation soon became difficult.

The US government, the Mexican government, and even drug dealers all united to suppress them. The lack of military force was the most important problem. Oliver had almost worn out those few books, but the theories he had read told him that copying mechanically had no future; he had to find a way out himself.

But just at this time, Clark, who wanted to collect facts, arrived here.

Still that sentence: Clark was not stupid at all; he was very smart, smarter than everyone else in this world.

He only needed to carefully observe everyone's living state from the sky, and then he could draw a conclusion: the resistance of farmers and workers was normal and justified. Anyone in this environment should resist.

After drawing this conclusion, Clark naturally wanted to help them, but he knew that killing all the drug dealers wouldn't solve the problem. So, he began to look for a better method, and just at this time, he discovered that strange activity and the underground organization.

When Oliver and Clark connected, the two were truly like fellow villagers meeting fellow villagers. As a result, when they asked, "You were arranged here by Shiler, and I was also arranged here by Shiler," then what else was there to say? Just bury your head and work hard.

Clark's arrival made up for the most fatal problem of strength: flying, X-ray vision, immense strength, eyes that could emit heat rays—even if he just acted as a scout, he already had the upper hand.

In an instant, the situation turned around. Oliver's side became the side singing and advancing vigorously. At the same time, more local people who had been deeply harmed joined in, and the movement became more and more fiery, with greater and greater momentum.

Unsurprisingly, Congress panicked.

"What? Withdraw all surveillance personnel and put them all into Mexico??? Is Congress crazy???" Kayla said loudly to the other end of the phone, "There are over 300 important surveillance targets on the entire East Coast. If we withdraw them all, what will we do about the intelligence for this stage?"

"Intelligence? Without Mexico, the next one is America. Without America, what's the use of intelligence?" The voice on the other end of the phone was very cold. He said, "We have already activated the highest-level emergency plan, and even many personnel in Moscow have been withdrawn. Do you think Metropolis is more important than Moscow?"

"The personnel in Moscow have all been withdrawn??!"

Kayla said in disbelief, "Then what about the representative assembly and the inauguration ceremony in a few days? Don't we need people to watch them??"

"The overall situation is settled." The person on the other side spat out a few words without any emotion. He said, "We have already completed all the work. If it weren't for the accident in Mexico, the war would have ended by now."

Kayla took a deep breath and said, "... I'll go arrange it immediately."

She hung up the phone, closed her eyes, and muttered to herself, "The overall situation is settled... Yes, the overall situation is settled."

"The overall situation is settled?"

Another voice with a smile was blown away in the wind on the West Coast, slowly disappearing without a trace.

On May 25, 1989, the first plenary session of the Soviet Union was held. Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev was elected Chairman of the Supreme Soviet of the Soviet Union.

On May 26, 1989, a gunshot rang out in the Kremlin. Gorbachev was assassinated, shot in the head, and died on the spot. ===== CHAPTER 662 =====