Chapter 908: Entering the City

Thump...

Thump!

His heart had never beaten so violently before!

A police officer stared with wide eyes, looking in disbelief at the guy who was currently snatching the baton from his hand; for a split second, his brain lost the ability to think!

It was as if a lamb waiting to be slaughtered had suddenly opened a bloody maw; the hierarchy of the food chain had been inverted. Everything happened too incredibly!

Whether it was the police or the people attacking them, their pulses were all going wild.

"F-Q!"

Before the officer could even react, accompanied by a curse, a fist struck the bridge of his nose.

His nose suffered a heavy blow. The sudden sour sensation and the hot, rushing flow of blood made him subconsciously loosen his grip on the baton. Immediately after, the person who had snatched it away swung the stolen baton high and then brought it down heavily onto the officer's head.

In that instant, he finally understood how those people he had beaten with a baton felt.

The whole world seemed to be spinning. He couldn't even stand steady; almost subconsciously, he bent his waist, buckled his knees, stuck out his rear, and spread his arms to lower his center of gravity, trying to stay upright.

But the world was still spinning. Even though no one around him was touching him, he eventually swayed and fell to the ground.

Just one blow had caused problems with his balance. This might require a period of treatment to recover, but clearly, the people before him had no intention of giving him time to recover.

Soon, fists, soles of shoes, and all sorts of things were concentrated on him. The officer could only curl up, protecting his head!

He wanted to scream for help, but the rain of shoe soles falling on him left him no chance to cry out, and he also knew that screaming might not be useful.

He could only protect himself as much as possible, but it was of no use; someone jumped up and stomped hard on his body, and he felt his ribs break.

The intense pain made it hard for him to breathe, accompanied by a desire to vomit.

The next second, he suddenly retched and spat out a mouthful of blood.

Yet the people around him seemed to have no intention of letting him go; looking out through the gap between his arms, his eyes were filled with despair.

And regret.

Perhaps he regretted raising his hand to hit someone, perhaps he regretted coming here today, perhaps he regretted many things.

But regret could not change what was about to happen.

At this moment, the people attacking him felt a surge of disbelief in their hearts; they looked at the people around them—the police they had once thought invincible were now at their feet like a child being beaten to tears!

In an instant, a surge of power was injected into their bodies from beneath their feet; they were actually much stronger than they had imagined!

Their blood began to boil; a young man rushed forward two steps and delivered a soccer-style kick to the officer's waist and abdomen, but the officer gave no strong reaction—he had already fallen into a coma.

The aggressor ultimately became the only person injured in this conflict, while those who had once been at the bottom, exploited and oppressed, had now become the perpetrators.

Their identities were reversed at this moment!

In the chaos, Pedro helped the woman up and looked at the completely chaotic crowd around them; he had originally wanted to say something, but realized that now was not an appropriate time.

The woman was helped up by Pedro, and she gratefully said thank you; Pedro shook his head, "Take care of yourself so you can take care of your child; don't risk yourself next time."

"If you die, there will be no one left to take care of your child the way you do."

"If you want to protect him, you must protect yourself."

The woman thanked him repeatedly, and Pedro just smiled, "I have to go; I also need to get some food. Take care of yourself!"

After saying this, he turned and walked toward the city with his wife and child; they also needed to enter the city to find some food.

Having walked only a few steps, he stopped.

He discovered that some people had taken the initiative to come to his side.

He guardedly hid his wife and child behind him; this action of his immediately caused the group approaching them to stop as well.

One middle-aged man, about thirty years old, stepped forward, "We... want to act together with you."

Pedro did not fully trust him and continued to look at him with suspicious and guarded eyes; the middle-aged man had to continue explaining, "We come from the same place; just now we saw you stand out first and felt you were like a hero."

"And...", the middle-aged man had an awkward and embarrassed smile on his face, "none of us are literate, and you look like..."

He did not finish his sentence, but Pedro knew what he wanted to express.

His attire made him look like an intellectual; many people often turn to those who are learned when facing problems, as at least they possess much more knowledge than the illiterate.

With a reasonable explanation, the somewhat dangerous expressions of these people instantly became soft; although he did not completely relax his guard, he still smiled and extended his hand, "Pedro."

These people shook hands with him one by one and introduced themselves.

Unaccountably, Pedro had a feeling that this group of people was his "core team."

They began to huddle together and walk toward the city; these people also brought some women or children. The leading middle-aged man, Sa'en, said their village and the city where Pedro lived were actually not far apart, only a distance of thirty or forty kilometers.

If this distance were in some big cities, one could say they were from the same place.

The proximity of their locations also made Pedro feel closer to them.

"The situation in the village is very bad; we have been out of grain for many days."

Sa'en's expression was somewhat solemn, "They dug up all the potatoes; some people were poisoned, but in order not to go hungry, people still found ways to swallow them all."

Those potato chunks that had sprouted and started to grow were dug out of their fully grown parts, and the rest were put into boiling water to cook for a long time.

After being cooked until completely mushy, they were eaten like soup.

After long-term high-temperature cooking, solanine would be partially destroyed, but not completely.

Some people were fine after eating, while others were poisoned; in reality, this had a direct relationship with the temperature during cooking.

But the people in the countryside did not know this; they just steamed and boiled them instinctively, and as for whether they would be poisoned, they could only leave it to fate.

According to Sa'en, some people even mixed in a lot of grass leaves and some soil to reduce the content of the mashed potatoes and decrease the danger of poisoning.

In short, basically everything edible in the fields near the village had been eaten; they were starving and had no choice but to come to Zhuolan to try their luck.

Everyone's situation was basically the same; if they weren't starving to the extreme, who would be willing to come to Zhuolan?

Pedro walked on the outside with them, letting the women and children walk in the middle.

As they walked, Sa'en asked, "Pedro, do you think we can find food in Zhuolan?"

Pedro was silent for a while, "I don't know."

He glanced at those around him who were younger than him, and his own eyes were also somewhat lost, "I don't know if the President and the ministers have discovered these problems, nor do I know if they have considered how to start solving this problem."

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"The best way is to mobilize some grain reserves, let people have a bite to eat as soon as possible, and then catch those who are taking the opportunity to hoard grain."

"Although our food reserves are not large, we should be able to overcome the current difficulties."

"If the President and our ministers don't mess things up."

He did not speak too definitively, but at the same time, he conveyed a thought—

The problem can be solved, but the question is whether the people who can solve the problem want to solve it.

Sa'en and the others didn't quite understand this, only knowing that what Pedro said seemed to make some sense.

The roadblocks on the outskirts of the city were leveled, and a large number of refugees began to enter the city. The police chief saw that the situation had begun to develop in a direction that could not be controlled; while having the police block these refugees on the outskirts of the city as much as possible, he called the Presidential Palace.

Diego was enjoying his favorite iced fruit juice.

He had specially imported a huge ice machine from the Federation; this ice machine served only him and some ministers, providing ice cubes all year round.

Even in winter, Diego needed to drink iced fruit juice with ice cubes.

His physique was relatively fat, and whenever he moved, it felt like there was a ball of fire in his heart; only iced fruit juice could suppress this fire.

When the phone rang, he had just finished a glass, and the thick fruity fragrance still lingered in his mouth.

He didn't answer the phone; his butler did.

After two minutes, the butler came to his side, "Master, it's the police chief on the phone; some refugees are entering the city."

Diego frowned, "Didn't you say to block these refugees outside the city?"

"How did this piece of trash let them in?"

The butler did not explain; this was not his responsibility. He just bent his waist, lowered his head, and remained silent. Diego signaled him to bring the phone over, then picked up the receiver and began to lose his temper.

"How did you handle this?"

"Didn't I say not to let these refugees enter Zhuolan?"

"They will make a mess of this beautiful city, and how will you make the Federal people look at me?"

"How will you make the people of other countries in the Asian Alliance look at me?"

"Fuck!"

"Go solve these problems!"

"Before you fix it, don't let me hear any more bad news about these things!"

The police chief was afraid that the great President would suddenly hang up the phone, so he hurriedly said, "There are too many of them, Mr. President; our police officers are very limited, and it is difficult to control them."

"Moreover, these people have already attacked the police on the edge of the city; a small number of police cannot control them at all."

Diego could understand the meaning in his words; unable to control them, insufficient manpower—these were all excuses; he had a deeper intention to express.

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

The police chief lowered his voice a little, "I hope... that when necessary, we can use weapons."

The police station also had guns, but these guns were locked in cabinets and would only be taken out and distributed to the police after receiving permission.

Most of the time, the police did not need weapons; a baton was enough.

Many of the batons in the hands of the police were "treasures" passed down for several generations, just as the son of a president is still a president, and the son of a pariah can only be a pariah.

The son of a policeman is still a policeman; they would take over their father's job, so a high-quality baton was not only a handy tool for them but also a symbol of status.

In Rapa, there were places and professionals who specialized in making batons for police officers; as long as the batons they made were properly maintained, they could often be passed down for many generations.

In the past, the problems encountered could be solved by the police taking out their batons, but this time, it didn't quite work.

So the police chief applied to Diego for the right to open fire.

Opening fire was not a small matter; Diego was very cautious and did not agree immediately.

"Has the situation become this bad?"

The police chief took a deep breath, "Your Excellency, there may be more than 100,000 people entering the city, and more people are rushing over from the surrounding areas; our pressure is very high."

"Zhuolan only has more than 3,000 police officers, and we still have to protect some government departments; the number of people available to solve this matter is simply not enough."

"They have already attacked the police; if we don't equip the officers with weapons, they are simply no match for these people."

When Diego heard this, his brows were already tightly knitted; he stood up while holding the armrest of the chair and walked back and forth unsteadily.

The butler's expression had always been very serious, and the two servants in the distance were the same.

Previously, someone had been dealt with by Diego for a reason because they couldn't help but show a smile.

He hated others mocking the way he walked the most, and he also knew how ridiculous and funny his waddling gait looked—

Once, a circus ringmaster brought a few penguins for an exhibition; Diego had never seen penguins, so he had the circus invited to the Presidential Palace to perform for him alone.

The penguins appeared as the final act; the moment he saw those penguins waddling out of the box, he concluded that the circus ringmaster was mocking him!

So he fed the ringmaster to the lions he kept, and then sent the other animals to the Zhuolan Zoo.

He cared very much about the attitude others had toward him, but he was unwilling to lose weight.

"How long will it take for us to mobilize the army into the city?", he asked the butler.

The butler thought for a while, "About seven to eight hours."

The military region of Rapa was not in Zhuolan, but in the north of Zhuolan; this was set up to avoid any measures Diego might not have in case some ambitious person appeared in the army.

But this also gave him a headache now, "I remember there is an army stationed in the city."

The butler nodded and said, "There are only about 500 people; 500 people cannot suppress this riot."

Only then did Diego put the receiver back to his ear, "Okay, do it."

"I give you authorization, but I also hope you don't let me down."

After he hung up the phone, he dialed the military region's number again, "Bring your men to Zhuolan; there is some rioting here that needs you to solve."

After he put down the phone, he sat back in his chair, was dazed for a while, and then poured himself another glass of iced fruit juice.

The ice cubes collided back and forth in the golden wine glass, and the rich fruity fragrance filled the entire room for a time.

Diego actually hadn't realized that this was not just a riot.

In cities further away, cities that couldn't reach Zhuolan in a short time, people had already begun to set out for the wild.

When hunger begins to run rampant, humans are more locust-like than locusts!

There are also tropical primeval jungles within Rapa; for so many years, they have known what can be eaten and what cannot be eaten.

A large number of people left the city and entered the wild; they stuffed everything they could eat into their mouths or stored it up.

People's fear of going hungry in the future inevitably makes them constantly hoard grain; this is a vicious cycle.

Now they still have things to eat, but what if they can't find anything to eat again?

In the end, their goal will always only be one place, and that is Zhuolan.

In the minds of these people, as long as they reach Zhuolan, things will definitely get better.

The greater the hope, the greater the disappointment; when the disappointment reaches a certain level, they will deny reality.

The entry of "outsiders" made the atmosphere in Zhuolan city tense; the number of people on the streets decreased a lot, and many people returned to their homes and closed their doors and windows.

The hotel also called Lanse, the general meaning being that they hoped Lanse and his staff could stay in the hotel.

Now there might be some threats outside; the hotel also had a security team of about a hundred people.

Although it was said that a security team of more than a hundred people seemed to have no effect in the face of the current situation, it ultimately gave some people a sense of security.

Ma Duoer walked from a distance to Lanse's side, "The police have all been dispatched; I heard they are also carrying weapons."

Lanse nodded noncommittally, "Don't let these weapons dampen people's enthusiasm."

Ma Duoer could understand Lanse's meaning; he nodded and turned to leave to arrange the tasks.

The police chief also left the police station by car at this time; this time he was going to do a great job!

He wanted to show his value and importance so that the great President and the ministers would continue to entrust him with important tasks.

He had wanted to expand the police force many times.

As the capital of Rapa, Zhuolan had hundreds of thousands of people, but only 3,000 police officers; this was obviously too few.

For the police chief, the more police there were, the greater his power, and the more benefits he could get from it.

Every time he mentioned this in the past, the people above would refuse to expand the police force on the grounds that it was "not needed."

The Rapa people were too honest and basically would not resist; even if there were gangs and troublemakers, they were only a minority.

This was an opportunity, an opportunity to show his face well in front of the masters; he already had some plans.

At this time, the refugees pouring into the city had become somewhat different from the past because they had attacked the police; they had become more aggressive.

Pedro had seen some people attacking shops along the road along the way—robbing, smashing, burning; they were acting recklessly as if they had lost their minds.

He didn't quite understand, but he seemed to have some realization.

In the absence of anyone to guide them, these people would become "bad elements"!