Working as a police officer in Mexico

Actually, Victor still has a kind heart.

Some jerk suggested using thermobaric bombs for ground-clearing...

That thing goes down, and parts of the Sierra Madre Mountains and Lakandun Mountain get flattened.

How could that be good for Mexico's ecological environment?

So I say, Victor is still kind.

But while he is kind, the officers and soldiers on the front line are different.

For the Southern War Zone Headquarters, young soldiers are eager to establish merits.

They eat and drink well every day, silver coins in abundance, and occasionally get subsidies from above.

When the Supreme Leader Victor got married, he awarded the military with 1.2 billion in new riyal currency, plus welfare subsidies of 3 billion riyal for the nation's widows and orphans!

Of course, this money isn't from the state; plenty of people are willing to give it. Gather a dozen or twenty companies, and the money is there, right?

If you want to raise an insurrection against Victor in the army now, it's basically impossible, and grassroots people aren't pushovers. That's why Victor was so angry when he heard about Chiapas State's rebellion.

I shell you with sugar-coated cannonballs, and you eat the sugar coating and then fire the cannonball back at me, huh?

How can one not be angry?

The Sierra Madre Mountains are the mountains of Chiapas, Mexico. They stretch from the Twan Tepeke Land Bridge along the Pacific Ocean coast to the Guatemalan border.

Span across a whole state!

It directly cuts Chiapas State into two halves, and roads are impassable, how to develop the economy?

In a mountain gorge called "Atopa," there was a bustling crowd, a large group of people wearing Indigenous-style clothing dancing towards a statue of a god. Nearby, a priest with totem paintings on his face and feathers in his hair was babbling something nobody understood.

Epilepsy attack perhaps.

But it looked somewhat creepy. In the center column, three people were tied up, two men and one woman, looking very disheveled.

There was blood at the corners of their mouths, clearly beaten, hanging their heads, worn out and limp.

The priest raised his hands and let out a roar.

Nearby tribesmen holding AK47s screeched and fired into the sky.

Quite contemporary, huh.

Upon hearing the gunfire, the three startled awake, looking frantically up to see the priest walking over with a stone blade, eyes fierce.

The bound woman suddenly burst into tears, "Don't kill us, we're journalists, we've come to help you, Assib!!!"

Don't speak Korean.

Can the priest even understand?

He probably thought the woman was yelling and ruining the ritual. Sure enough, his expression twitched, becoming more vicious, and he grabbed the woman's hair.

Amid the other's frightened struggles and screams, the stone blade plunged forcefully into the throat!

Poof—

The sharp tip pierced through the back of the neck, still carrying blood and unidentified tissue.

"Ke-ke-ke—"

The woman spat large mouthfuls of blood, eyes starting to glaze, convulsing before her head drooped.

The priest pulled out the blade, cheering, as the tribesmen behind let out a loud cheer.

He did the same to the other two male reporters, stabbing in for bleeding; but on the last one, he forcefully twisted the stone blade, chopping the head clean off.

"The Heavenly God is watching us! The blood of the Foreigner will irrigate our land; he will grant us boundless power!"

The priest shouted loudly holding the head.

"The Heavenly God is listening to our voice!!"

Woo-woo—

Just at that moment, an enormous shadow obscured the sky, followed by the sound of something whistling down.

"The Heavenly God laid an egg!!!"

Who knows which idiot suddenly blurted this out.

And the priest's voice choked, making a "Heh-heh—" sound, staring wide-eyed, with terror in those triangular eyes.

"Bomb!!"

He wasn't oblivious; after all, he graduated from the University of Granada, returning as a chief completely because...

Good money.

The minority's products sell better than any crummy job, and precisely because he studied in Spain, he got influenced by Western thoughts, hating Victor.

In mainstream Western media, Victor is a piece of crap.

The priest sprinted away, but the robe was too long, carelessly stepping on it, taking a face plant.

He could only watch in terror as the bomb dropped into the gorge.

Boom!!

Instantly, flames ravaged everything, heat waves roared, even the air trembled.

The priest's pupils shrank, instantly engulfed by flames.

This dropped was a Soviet ZB-500 type, using a unique aerosol dispersion mechanism, 500-kilogram body with a built-in high-pressure nitrogen tank, vaporizing the incendiary upon touch down, covering a radius of 35 meters.

In the 1979 Afghanistan War, this model was used for mountain cave sweep operations, longest burning record being 11 minutes 23 seconds.

One bomb down, and the entire gorge became a sea of fire.

You run?

Can you escape?

The Southern War Zone forced them to be nomadic "population"; you rebel, yet dare stay in the gorge; overhead reconnaissance planes see it all too clearly.

Forty minutes later.

A unit of over 30 men arrived by coordinates, standing outside the gorge, the heat wave still crashing forward.

Releasing... the smell of barbecue.

"Stay alert." The leading company commander called out.

This regiment comprised veterans, was the main force regiment of the Second Army before reorganization, now part of the Southern War Zone Guard Division, combat prowess formidable.

Military boots crunched on the soil, emitting a creaky sound.

Everywhere was ash...

With the incendiary bomb dropped, can there still be survivors?