Chapter 40: Taxes Are Only Within Machine Gun Range! Chapter 38: Transcendence

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Protagonist:

Milton

Mins

The five people who raised their hands in surrender instantly looked confused.

What kind of madman was this Inspector? Speeding, killing, even shooting police officers—just to come give them a ticket?!

One of them immediately realized something was wrong, and subconsciously opened his mouth to object: "We didn't murder police officers, we didn't blow up..."

Bang!

Milton didn't wait for him to finish speaking, raised his FN FAL, and shot his head apart with one bullet.

He turned to look at the second person, asking in a tone of soliciting opinion: "Do you have any objections?"

That person fell silent for a moment, shook his head: "... No, I admit I murdered the police officer, blew up the police car."

If Milton was willing, he could even admit that he started World War II, that he caused the disintegration of the Soviet Union.

"Very good..."

Milton was about to interrogate the remaining four people when the sound of an engine suddenly came from the door.

A car was coming.

Who was it? Could the police arrive so quickly?

His two teammates immediately dispersed, occupying two relatively safe positions, ready for combat at any time.

Brandon, who was setting up the police line, also immediately retreated, covering in front of Milton.

Milton simply stood at the door, frowning slightly.

He recognized it was a small-displacement old sedan, with a displacement probably not exceeding 2.0L.

It probably wasn't a police car...

Milton glanced at the "criminal suspects" lying on the ground, confirmed they wouldn't pose any threat, then looked toward the main gate to see who had come.

Soon, a low, boxy pale beige Renault 12 sedan drove quickly over and braked to a stop at the door.

A blonde beauty dressed simply but carrying various expensive photography equipment ran down from the car, dusty and travel-worn, without even having time to turn off the headlights.

Huh? This woman, she looked somewhat familiar...

Brandon immediately raised his Type 81 and shouted sternly: "Stand there, outside the cordon, don't move! Report your identity!"

The beautiful woman couldn't make them lower their vigilance at all; in war, anything could be weaponized, especially when the opponent was already at the end of their rope.

The blonde beauty looked at the several fully armed people, immediately stopped her steps, and raised the Nikon camera in her hand: "I am a journalist, this is my camera for legally entering the country! I heard there was movement over here and wanted to follow up with a report! Can I take out my credentials?"

Her pronunciation occasionally had a slightly unobvious rolled tongue.

There were no smuggled goods on her... she probably wasn't carrying weapons.

After Milton used the panel to scan and rule out danger, he continued recalling where he had seen her, while speaking: "Take out your credentials, slowly."

The blonde beauty helplessly reached her hand into her high, bulging chest pocket, slowly pulled out a press card from inside, and handed it to Milton.

Milton looked at the credentials, preparing to ask questions in a scrambled order—this way he could simply judge the authenticity of the credentials.

"Birthday?"

"December 6, 1971."

"Nationality?"

"Sov..." The blonde beauty blurted out, then immediately froze, her expression dim as she corrected, "Russia."

"Name?"

"Dasha Ivanovna Sarahova Anastasia Olivia."

Seeing Olivia could say such a long string of names so fluently, Milton believed the authenticity of this press card; he nodded, returned the credentials, and asked: "A journalist from New Newspaper, a press I've never heard of... Why come to Guatemala? This isn't a good place."

Olivia took back her press card, helplessly shrugging: "The press is about to go bankrupt, salaries have long stopped being paid, but I want to make money and can only earn by reporting... You know, places with more news and greater danger have fewer competitors, and one can barely earn some money."

"That Qingteng Foundation volunteer you've caught now threatened me not long ago; change to another journalist and they probably would have run away already."

Qingteng Foundation, volunteer?

Hearing this, Milton's eyes flickered, and he immediately turned his head, looking at the person lying on the ground.

Memories surged up—this person was the "volunteer" who had distributed medicine to pregnant women and children near the Central Church before.

Later there was a blonde woman arguing with him about something, and that blonde woman turned out to be Olivia.

Not only that, at the scene of the gunfight at the Black Pharmacy, when Milton crawled out of the ruins, he had also seen this journalist Olyna reporting.

Daring to rush onto the battlefield, arriving at the front line faster than the police... a fearless war correspondent; this was Milton's first impression of this beautiful woman.

Milton nodded: "You can take photos, but don't cross the police line."

Brandon was a bit doubtful and asked in a low voice: "Boss, are you sure letting her take photos?"

Milton turned and walked back, chuckling: "She is obviously not an enemy, so why not let her report? You must understand one sentence: unite all forces that can be united."

And never underestimate the power of public opinion; no matter what, there must at least be a window for public opinion to speak.

Brandon thought for a moment and somewhat understood: "Boss, do you think she has value to join our team?"

"Not yet." Milton shook his head: "She first needs to prove she isn't an idiot. In other words, she needs to survive first."

If she were a white leftist who caused trouble everywhere, felt moved herself and disgusted others without realizing it, bringing her into the team would only bring endless internal strife and danger.

Before this, Milton and Olivia could only be considered to have a common enemy.

Milton finished speaking, turned, and came to the front of that "volunteer."

"How do you plan to pay the fine?" Milton threw the signed ticket onto him, "Based on the value of these medicines at the scene, you need to pay a fine of 832,000 US Dollars."

Milton could write whatever number he wanted on the ticket without following the law, but the system would not convert the excess portion into points.

Moreover, even the legal portion had to be collected before it would count as points.

Eight hundred thirty thousand US Dollars was a terrifying figure anywhere, and Milton did not think he could collect it in full, so he did not raise the price—if he could not collect it, raising it to one hundred million would be useless.

Milton asked this question actually to ask where the "Volunteer" had put the valuable things, saving himself from searching slowly.

But what he never expected was that the Volunteer actually nodded and readily agreed to this fine: "Fine, let's do this... I'll round it up for you, one million US Dollars, on the condition that you let me go after taking the money, how about it?"

His voice carried a bit of arrogance and condescension, as if he did not take one million US Dollars seriously.

Milton's finger suddenly stretched toward the trigger, glanced at his teammates' expressions around him, and then coldly said: "I am not responsible for judgment."

Unexpectedly, after hearing these words, the "Volunteer" laughed even more easily: "You want to send me to court? That works too. Brother, this time I fell for it, but I think we can be friends... work with me, I can make you all earn many millions, how about it?"

His voice was deliberately raised very high so that everyone could hear it.

Milton once again quickly glanced at his teammates' expressions—fortunately, not one of them wavered, either pretending not to hear or giving a few cold smiles.

While letting down his guard, Milton decided not to waste words with the "Volunteer" anymore.

At this stage, Milton could not accept transfers of unknown origin and could only wait to search the Garbage Disposal Plant and confiscate it as a fine; the "Volunteer" promising another million was useless.

And what made Milton most uneasy was that this "Volunteer," who had directly killed who knows how many lives, actually seemed not afraid of court at all.

Who knew what backing he had, who knew what methods, and he even tried to divide his team!

This person was too terrifying; he absolutely could not be allowed to live... since the law could not solve him, then use physical means to eliminate him!

Sirens had already sounded outside, and the police would arrive soon.

Milton did not hesitate and reached toward the TEC-9 at his waist.

"Wait!" Seeing that Milton had murderous intent, the Volunteer suddenly panicked: "You can't kill me!"

Milton ignored him completely, picked up the TEC-9, and was about to open fire.

This person must have many secrets, but Milton did not want to know.

The Volunteer finally could not maintain that arrogant expression on his face; he screamed a warning: "I am an American! You have no authority to execute me! No one here dares to kill me; you must let me leave, understand, you Country Bumpkin from a Shithole Country?!"

"I killed a hundred of you people, and you still can't do anything to me, because I am American, American, understand?!"

At this moment, a police car suddenly rushed in from outside; a middle-aged man with a slightly plump figure, wearing a gilded police inspector insignia on his shoulder, got out of the car, too lazy to even look at Milton, and announced: "The police are taking over here now; everyone else leave... Brandon, take your people away, this is an order!"

Pedro, the Police Chief of Mara Can Town Police Station, had actually come in person... Milton once again confirmed in his heart that the matters at the Hospital and Garbage Disposal Plant were definitely not as simple as Pioglitazone.

Pedro issued orders arrogantly, then looked at the "Volunteer," showing an extremely low posture: "Mr. Walker, I am truly sorry; this must be a Misunderstanding."

But before his words had fully fallen, he saw a pair of boots covered in blood step onto Walker's head.

Police Chief Pedro looked up in shock and discovered that Brandon had not carried out his order, and Milton did not take the so-called "police taking over" seriously.

The Police Chief who always said one thing and meant it never thought there would be a day when his words were useless!

"You all..."

Dong Dong Dong...

Milton pulled the Trigger expressionlessly, smashing Walker's skull.

Then he applied a little force under his foot, stepping down bit by bit.

Walker's skull, cracked by dozens of Bullets, could no longer withstand such pressure; with a Crack it shattered into pieces, and Milton stepped it into a pile of debris.

Milton stood on Walker's exploded head, raised his head, looked at the shock and anger in Pedro's eyes, and asked flatly: "What did you just say?"