Working as a police officer in Mexico

"The Gulf Group and Los Zetas have gone to war..."

Casare was trembling with excitement, "Can we order our troops to go directly south, take Yucatan, and restore all of Mexico?"

He had his own ambitions.

When you carry a knife, you're called a bandit. When ten people have guns, they're called a gang. A hundred people become a group. And with ten thousand people... well, you're a warlord.

He wanted to assist Victor in becoming the "founder" of all Mexico. By that time, would the future history books give him a favorable judgment?

Now he lacked neither power nor money. The Gonzalez Family had shares in many Mexican industries. Just their annual dividends amounted to close to 100 million US dollars...

What Casare wanted now was fame.

But just as he spoke, Victor smiled slightly, gesturing for him to sit down, poured him a cup of coffee, and said, "It's not the time yet."

"Don't be deceived by their ferocious fighting now; they're just standing in for Georgia. If we send troops south now, for their mutual interests, even if they despise us, they'll unite their forces to retaliate."

"But once that crack has appeared, we can slowly widen it. And when one day, this barrel of gunpowder explodes entirely on its own—then it will be the moment for a decisive battle."

"It's only the end of '91; less than two years have passed. We need to resolve internal issues first. Including those tribes hidden deep in the mountains, we need to relocate them, provide them with access to water and electricity..."

"And we also need to re-examine all the cases from the Old Mexico era. We must not let any good person suffer injustice, nor let a single bad person roam free."

The territory controlled by the Government Forces currently spans about 1.1 million square kilometers, housing over 80 million citizens. Yet 46% of them are below the poverty line. To help them become self-sufficient, Victor even established the "Food and Agriculture Development Bureau," whose experts would go to rural areas to guide farmers on using new seeds.

But farming cannot yield results overnight...

"The South is like a gunpowder barrel; it will explode on its own. But do you know what I worry about now?" Victor asked.

Casare gazed at his leader.

The Emperor pulled a stack of documents from his drawer, handed them over: "A month ago, professors from the National University of Mexico's sociology department jointly wrote me a letter. They hope we can adopt the United States' and Europe's mainstream capitalist model."

"They're asking me to... loosen monopolies and allow market capital to flow in."

"Nonsense! Utter nonsense!" Casare erupted in anger, "Boss, if we listen to them, our measures against the financial tycoons will turn into a joke."

Those 11 financial tycoons who were taken down—it's all still fresh in memory.

"I request their arrest. They must be American spies."

Victor laughed and waved dismissively, "No need. Punishing their words will only lead to more public hostility."

He was calm and composed, having no illusions of overturning centuries of entrenched "American culture" in Mexico within two years.

"But their suggestion gave me an idea. What path should we take? What do you think of the Soviet model?"

"?? They're practically on their deathbed. This... this can't work, right?"

"But precisely because of that. Look at how the media controlled by the Western world has smeared and insulted this giant countless times. As for the Big Beard, all of his achievements have been erased, his entire legacy turned into mistakes."

"I remember the world once voted for the greatest politicians, and not a single vote was cast for the Big Beard. That was a disgraceful political vote. But I believe he was great. He stabilized internal chaos, countered enemy forces, and transformed the Soviet Union from an agrarian country into a global superpower. Twenty, thirty years from now, people will remember him with reverence."

When Victor spoke of this Iron Kind Father, his face showed a trace of respect.

"The Soviet Union went from losing 26 million lives as part of the anti-fascist alliance to becoming the world's superpower. Why did it make the United States fear them? Was it nuclear weaponry? Was it the capacity to annihilate America? No, America had equal capacity to destroy the Soviet Union."

"The Soviet Army could only threaten Europe. What made America fearful was the Soviet Union's ability to utterly dismantle the Western world's ideology. Ideas are the real core power. No matter how much we mock them, joke about them, we cannot deny..."

"A great nation must possess great spirit and mission."

"And this is precisely what Mexico is lacking."

Victor tapped his fingers on the table, "I want to give our new nation a new soul."

Seeing his leader's resolute eyes, Casare shuddered involuntarily.

"If we surrender to capitalism, if we lower our heads to walk alongside the United States, then... our own path and dignity will be entirely in their hands. What, then, is the meaning of all my efforts and struggles?"

"What is the purpose of the war against drug trafficking?"

"What is the significance of kicking out financial tycoons and farmers who oppressed peasants?"

In truth, starting with land redistribution...

Mexico was destined to never be fully accepted by the Western world again.

To farmers, what were they?

Disdainful fuel.

But Victor's respect for them was the ultimate insult to capital.

"Boss..." Maybe Casare now understood the path his leader intended to take. He spoke with a tremor but still grabbed his hand tightly, "No matter what you do, I will support you."

"Born from humanity's noblest ideals, it cannot be destroyed by humanity's basest desires!"

"We must be a safe haven for laborers, and also a fair, equitable, and peaceful country. We cannot let slaughter, hatred, drugs, and arms proliferate on this land. We safeguard ourselves, and we safeguard justice."

Victor looked at the firm conviction in his eyes and felt deeply moved.

Perhaps this was ridiculous...

Perhaps... this was childish.

Yet greed, lust, unscrupulousness, baseness, treachery, lying, deceitful Victor still hoped that after his death, there would be a ray of light cast by him upon this world.

"After we're gone, they'll build schools and hospitals, raise wages—not out of newfound conscience, nor because they've become good people, but because... we were here."

November 2, 1991.

The President of Mexico, Cuauhtémoc, made an announcement on television.

It was officially declared that the "Mexican Workers' Party" would be renamed to "People's Party."

This news rapidly swept through North America, South America, Europe, Asia, and the Middle East like a storm.

"If, when faced with injustice, when anger shakes you to your core, then come to Mexico. Join us. Let us call you comrade."

"Join us, fight for humanity's most humble ideals."

"We are fighting drug crimes, we are battling, and we are also striving for the fate of all humanity!"

The Yankees next door exploded...

"What the hell, Nima!"

The Soviet Union looks ready to collapse—what's going on?

They panicked, they were alarmed, they cursed openly.

Donald Rumsfeld called Victor, demanding to know what he intended to do.

"Don't be nervous, sir. Banning drugs, banning guns, prohibiting slaughter, prohibiting oppression—those are our political ideals..."

"You need to understand what you're doing! Victor, you're throwing away all the Western world's support. The Soviet Union is dying; no one will back you. Don't joke around immaturely."

"But... when we were ravaged by drug traffickers and slaughtered by criminals, the world did not save us, did it?"

"Of course, I am not promoting communism, but... we need a safe haven that belongs to humanity."

Rumsfeld chuckled bitterly, "Do you think you're the Savior? Humanity is vast—how can you save them all?"

"One must have ideals. Otherwise, lying atop piles of money would make us mere slaves to wealth."

The Yankees couldn't figure it out—and thought Victor was out of his mind.

What kind of joke is this?

"Don't go too far. I'll try my best to speak on your behalf. Don't make things harder for me." Rumsfeld admonished, then hung up the call.

Victor listened to the dial tone.

He laughed.

Took a puff on his cigar.

The Soviet Union hadn't completely collapsed yet. The United States already considered itself the world's new leader, casually arrogant in its speech. Helping me?

Only oneself can help oneself.

Victor wasn't trying to be anti-America; he knew that if he didn't resist, he would merely be America's dog.

But he didn't want to be a dog.

He wanted to be human.

He wanted future generations to sit calmly with family, basking in warm, intimate lights.

He wanted to...

Quietly watch the sunset.

"I only want... dignity."

Both in life and death.