Chapter 733: Wildfire

There were few people praying in the church on a Wednesday, and not many confessing either. After all, in rural life, how many things could there possibly be to confess?

The town was also rural; people were busy living their lives. Aside from coming by on Sundays, most of the time, people wouldn't come to the church unless they encountered trouble.

The priest sat on the edge of a row near the middle aisle. A beam of sunlight shot in from outside the window, illuminating him.

Dancing dust motes surrounded him like tiny spirits, adding a layer of sacred temperament to him.

He sat there, eyes fixed on the crucifix, but his mind was thinking about other things.

The cut of the liquor profits, the amount he could pocket, and whether the newly arrived supervisor and agent would be easy to deal with?

Being a priest really was exhausting!

Not only did he have to manage this church well, but he also had to conduct Sunday services and listen to some idiots confess!

There was one... he didn't know how to describe that guy anymore. A young man in his twenties, single, working at a nearby cattle farm. He couldn't even become a cowboy; he was just a farmer.

He often came to confess because he used his hand to solve his problems for himself.

In the scriptures, if you use your hand to solve your physiological problems, that is a sin!

The priest did indeed need to help people solve some of their spiritual problems, but damn it, he wasn't there specifically to listen to a strapping young man in the confessional tell him how he solved it, and all the bullshit about what happened before, during, and after he solved it, and who his sexual fantasies were about!

What was even more outrageous was that his fantasies even included some of the sheep on the farm!

His wandering thoughts trembled at this moment. The priest took a deep breath, shaking off his tranquil state. "Motherfucker, let that bastard go to hell!"

He shook his head, and then he heard footsteps coming from outside the church gate.

It was the sound of leather shoes.

There were many farmers and cowboys in the town.

Farmers would wear rubber boots; this could prevent their feet from being in a damp state for long periods.

The environment on the farm was actually much worse than people imagined; it wasn't as beautiful as those people in the city thought.

There was animal feces everywhere, especially near the pasture, piled up together.

Farmers needed to clean it up every day, then move it to the farm to compost and use it to fertilize the land. If they didn't wear rubber boots, whether it was leather shoes or cloth shoes, they would be soaked through by the feces, and eventually, their feet would rot away.

So most farmers would wear rubber boots, the very tall kind, to protect their feet.

The sound of rubber boots stepping on the ground wasn't like this. This wasn't the sound of those cowboys' leather boots stepping on the ground; their leather boots had spurs and some other metal accessories, and the noise they made when walking was bigger than this.

The person who came was wearing leather shoes with metal heel plates. He slowly turned around, leaning on the back of the chair, and looked toward the direction of the door.

A tall man in a suit walked in. He was putting away his sunglasses into his pocket, then sat in the seat opposite the priest. "One of my colleagues said you have something to find me for?"

Actually, before this senior agent came, he had already been assigned the task and had even received the standard answer; he was just going through the motions.

The priest watched this senior agent and observed for a while before asking, "Mr. Supervisor, I am curious about one thing."

He turned sideways, his fingers interlaced, hanging naturally between his legs.

He had a kind and gentle appearance, possessing not a shred of aggression, making it impossible for people to raise any guard.

Added to that was a head of graying hair; no one would think this old man was a threat. Plus, this was a church, and he could make people relax.

The supervisor looked at him, observing the priest's demeanor and eyes. "What?"

"In your life, have you ever done something you knew was wrong, but did it anyway?"

The supervisor was stunned for a moment. He thought about it seriously for a while and nodded. "I have."

The priest nodded slightly. "Everyone has."

"You, me, him."

He smiled, then stood up and invited the supervisor to walk with him to the door.

The church was located on a slightly high slope in the northwest direction of the town, overlooking the entire town.

Standing here, Tomato Town was right under their feet. The restless warm breeze of summer blew slowly, ruffling people's state of mind.

The priest took a deep breath, his heart and mind seeming to open up quite a bit because of it. "A tranquil town, where everything in the outside world has nothing to do with this place."

"Perhaps there will be noise occasionally, occasionally there will be conflicts, but it is like a gem embedded here on the nearby land."

"I believe no one has the heart to break its tranquility, don't you think?"

The supervisor nodded; he couldn't deny this point. Standing at a higher angle to look at Tomato Town, everything in Tomato Town became smaller. If it could always be this quiet, it actually didn't seem bad.

But the supervisor had come with a mission; he needed to state his position. "If we must do a wrong thing, then after we finish, can we do something to make up for our mistakes, our sins?"

The expression on the priest's face stiffened slightly. He turned his head to look at the supervisor. "Are you going to break the tranquility here?"

The supervisor didn't speak. The priest was a bit annoyed; silence often explained more than speaking.

It was like asking someone if they love you.

If this person tells you they don't love you, you might feel they are lying, are angry at themselves, and might have other thoughts to deny this fact.

But if this person keeps their head down and remains silent after you ask, then besides trying to save the outcome by saying "Speak up, hurry," you should also understand that they really don't love you.

The supervisor's silence made the priest feel some uncontrollable threats. His gaze became sharp. "I hope this time, it is not a wrong choice."

He changed his question and gave it to the supervisor again in a different way.

The supervisor just looked at him, shook his head, then took his glasses out of his pocket, put them back on, and left directly with his subordinates.

Watching the supervisor's departing back, the priest's face had already become very ugly.

Ever since he became the priest here, even the mayor had to give him face, but this bastard in front of him actually didn't give him any face at all!

He took a deep breath, and a sharp intent already showed in his eyes.

Prohibition Bureau supervisors and agents dying in the line of duty was no longer news; it could happen elsewhere, and it could happen here.

For the sake of the town's longer-lasting tranquility, these people could only be sacrificed.

In the departing car, the supervisor looked through the rearview mirror at his subordinate who was driving and sweating all over. "After we go back, put work aside for a moment, go home and think about it, and then tell me if there is anything you want to say to me."

The subordinate who was driving exhaled. "I know."

The remaining time was very dull. After they arrived at the office, this guy handed over his work briefly and then went back.

After he went back, he called the priest. "I have been suspended from work."

There was some resentment in his tone. Actually, he also knew that the priest giving him an extra salary every month wasn't because he was outstanding.

It was just because he was a Prohibition Bureau agent and needed to turn a blind eye.

If he lost this job, no matter who it was for, it would be very difficult for the priest to continue giving him this salary in the future; he might even find it hard to find a new job.

Whether in internal or external propaganda, the Federation always placed "inclusivity" in a very prominent position.

But in reality, this place wasn't inclusive at all. Those who had been to prison, even if they wanted to turn over a new leaf and start a new life, would still be discriminated against and treated specially by people.

So much so that in the end, they had to return to gangs or engage in some low-level, heavy manual labor.

But people did have an inclusive side—only inclusive to those with power and influence!

The priest could also hear the dissatisfaction and resentment in the agent's tone. He didn't reveal any emotion, saying in his consistently magnetic and gentle voice, "It will be over soon, everything will return to the way it was."

After the priest hung up the phone, he called another agent. "Are you on patrol these few days?"

"Yeah, I'm patrolling with two newbies these few days. What's wrong?"

The priest licked his lips. "At night, you will see someone trading liquor privately over at the Fruit Camp, and then you report this matter to your new supervisor, understand?"

The agent immediately realized the priest's plan. He didn't answer immediately.

The first batch of people to become Prohibition Bureau agents were all very excellent talents, drawn from the entire state, and even surrounding areas.

They were concentrated here, trained, and then dispersed to various places.

He wasn't a fool; he knew what consequences doing this would bring.

The new supervisor would definitely bring people to hunt down those bootleggers.

How many people were they in total?

But they were facing, possibly, dozens of people!

This was a very simple trap, but very useful.

He could even imagine the supervisor and the newly arrived colleagues being killed, but everything would just stop there. They would continue to maintain the stability and tranquility here while waiting for the next batch of new colleagues to arrive. "I saw him this afternoon; he intends to destroy our tranquil life."

The priest was hinting to him that the supervisor and those people were unwilling to join in and still wanted to arrest him.

Once the priest and those people in the bar were arrested, none of them, these protective umbrellas, would be able to run away.

Realizing that he was already standing on the edge of a cliff, the agent immediately made a decision. "What are the details?"

The priest was very satisfied with his change and immediately told him the subsequent arrangements.

All afternoon, the agent was patrolling the streets with the two newly arrived guys, driving a car.

He introduced the streets here and the specific situation here to these two people.

There were no gangs in the town, but there were biker gangs, which was also the most common thing in federal towns.

He also needed to tell them about the situation of these people.

At night, the three of them ate burgers at a fast-food restaurant in the center of town, and then left separately.

!

The agent drove alone to the road he had to take to get back to his residence. He puffed on a cigarette, and after smoking more than half of it, he entered a phone booth and dialed the office's number.

Soon the phone was connected. "It's me, I discovered someone conducting private liquor trading here at... Street and... Street."

"Yeah, okay, I've been following them, I watched them enter a warehouse in the alley."

"Okay, I'll just guard here."

He said this and hung up the phone, walked out of the phone booth, looked at the pitch-black alley, and returned to the car.

After waiting for about twenty minutes, two cars arrived here.

When the supervisor got out of the car, he even explained, "I'm not very familiar with the city, I found the wrong direction."

He paused. "Where are the people?"

The agent pointed toward the pitch-black place in the alley. "There is a door there; they haven't come out after going in."

In the dark night, the supervisor stared into the agent's eyes, making the agent feel a burning sensation on his face.

He only met the other party's gaze for a short while before he couldn't help but turn his head to look elsewhere; he felt guilty.

He knew what was inside.

Inside, there were at least a dozen people holding weapons waiting for them to open that door.

The moment the door was opened, bullets would shoot the people at the entrance into a sieve like raindrops.

Prohibition Bureau supervisor and agents heroically sacrificed themselves in a fierce firefight with smugglers while investigating a case of smuggling and selling private liquor!

What a great gimmick?

When the time comes, find two unlucky bastards to take the blame—the unlucky bastards, knowing they would be sent to the electric chair if caught, put up fierce armed resistance and were eventually shot dead by the heroic agents in some alley.

Alright, perfect!

They, these people, get commended, the criminals are brought to justice, and besides the sacrifice of the supervisor and several agents, the town will soon return to tranquility, and everything will return to the way it was.

Now, from a stable and comfortable life, it was only... a few dozen steps away.

"Why don't you dare to look at me?", the supervisor asked.

The agent was stunned. "Uh... I didn't, I just...", he still didn't dare to look at the supervisor, afraid that he would reveal some flaw.

Actually, he didn't know that from the very beginning, he had always been the flaw.

"There were some things you didn't explain clearly in the phone call just now; you said you saw how many people?"

Seeing the supervisor change the subject, the agent breathed a sigh of relief. "Two, I saw two people, they ran into the alley..."

"You've already said it once, no need to repeat it again."

"Are you sure it's two, not seven or eight, or even a dozen?"

The agent shuddered, his hands already starting to tremble slightly. "No, I'm sure, only two."

"Did you watch them run in, open the door, and then walk in, and they haven't come out since?"

This was obviously a flaw, but at this point, besides continuing to maintain such a statement, the agent couldn't do anything else.

He nodded and said, "I've been here the whole time and haven't left."

He didn't raise his head, so he didn't notice that the supervisor's gaze toward him was full of naked mockery. "Anything else to add?"

"No, no, nothing!"

The supervisor nodded slightly. He walked to the car and picked up a microphone. "Action."

The sound was very loud. Just when the agent didn't know who the supervisor was talking to, seven or eight police cars, and even an armored vehicle, suddenly rushed over.

Fully armed agents got out of the cars. The supervisor pointed to the door in the alley. "They might be hiding inside the door, be careful they shoot first."

The action team started to act. Some of the public around had already been attracted and were watching from afar.

The folk customs in the town were very simple and honest, not at all like a big city.

If a person from a big city who liked to cause trouble were here, he would definitely tell those onlookers who were watching the fun, run, damn it!

Because once the firefight started, whether it was gangs or law enforcement, as long as their eyes were red with killing, as long as it was someone they didn't recognize swaying in front of them, they would immediately open fire.

The agent's legs were already starting to shake. He watched these fully armed agents enter the alley, and then a fierce firefight unfolded. He couldn't stand steadily anymore.

He leaned against the car, half-leaning and half-sitting on the car door, his face in the night looking gray and without a trace of blood.

The sound of gunfire shrouded the entire town in this uneasy atmosphere. Soon the sheriff brought some temporary workers over. Fortunately, the law enforcement vehicles at the scene made him breathe a sigh of relief.

However, he was also a bit annoyed. He asked two people and came to the supervisor. "You should have told me first, this is my territory!"

The supervisor just glanced at him sideways. "You are the sheriff, not a gang member, you carefully consider what words you are using!"

He paused. "I suspect you and your people have close ties with the smuggling group, so I didn't notify you."

The sheriff was furious. "I want to complain about you to your superiors!"

He felt that his face and dignity had been provoked. Tomorrow, it would spread in this town that he was a "useless" sheriff; such a big thing happened, and he was actually the last one to arrive at the scene.

The supervisor, however, shrugged indifferently. These things were all arranged by the State Prohibition Committee, and there were even more powerful people supporting behind them.

Whether to complain or not, it really didn't matter.

"Whatever, if you don't know the complaint number, go to my office later, I'll give you a copy."

The firefight was almost over by now. Accompanied by "Don't shoot" and "I surrender" coming from the room, everyone knew it was over.

The agent couldn't stand anymore. He leaned on the car door and sat into the car, but he didn't dare to run, and he couldn't run away.

First, some corpses were sent out, and then some private liquor smugglers were twisted out.

Some agents from higher levels were also injured, even though they had made sufficient preparations, but no one's life was in danger.

Watching the seven or eight people who were still alive, the supervisor laughed twice. "Much more than I imagined, we have all night to figure out everything."

He turned around and looked at the agent sitting in the passenger seat smoking one after another, and laughed. "You say I'm right?"

The priest soon learned about the firefight and the aftermath at the scene. After listening, the priest's face was very ugly. He also realized at this time that this personnel transfer was aimed at him, or aimed at the Holy Bell Party.

But he understood too late!

He picked up the phone intending to tell Joshua about this, but there was no sound at all on the phone; the phone line had been cut.

He turned around abruptly, and just at this moment, the church door was pushed open. The supervisor walked in from outside with big strides and walked to the priest.

"You should pay the price for the wrong things you've done!"

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 734 =====