Chapter 1327: Chapter 644: No One Understands Drug Traffickers Better Than Us!_2
“Listen! Everyone listen! The gentlen of London! Your Pri Minister! Your Royal Family whore! Begging like a dog before us!” He exaggeratedly mimicked the tone of the recording, “Please na your terms… everything is negotiable… please keep it confidential…” Hahaha!”
He slamd the player onto the ground, stomping it into pieces with his foot: “Confidential? I want the whole world to hear! Is this your so-called ‘at any cost’? Is this the nobility of your Royal Family? Using money and weapons to buy back the lives of your worthless pastries? Pah! Trash is trash! From the army to the governnt, to the old woman hiding behind the crown, they’re all boneless pests!”
He pointed at the cara, spitting with every word, each one laden with extre contempt and mockery: “Now the whole world knows, you can’t even defeat us, and you kneel to beg! Your ‘Sun Never Sets’? What a colossal joke! We turned it into a sun that sets, begging for rcy with just a few ragged guns! Trash! Absolute trash!”
The release of the recording was like thrusting a burning dagger into London’s barely staunched wounds, then viciously twisting it.
The pitiful soothing effect of the Queen’s televised address vanished instantly, replaced by deeper anger, complete disillusionnt, and a nationwide tidal wave of sha.
Every word from that recording stabbed into the heart of each self-proclaid proud British citizen.
The British are notoriously prideful.
The flas of anger on the London streets, barely suppressed by the Queen’s speech, exploded into an all-consuming blaze with the pouring of this gasoline!
“Treason! This is blatant treason!”
“Kneeling to drug traffickers?! How dare you!”
“Pri Minister, resign! Imdiately! Now!”
“Queen? Royal Family? A bunch of actors! Sha!”
The people’s fury was no longer a protest, but an outright roar!
The waves of anger crashed like a tangible shock wave, hitting the wavering windows of the governnt residence, the television broadcast signals, the very foundations of Britain.
People waved their fists, burning Union Jack flags, smashing advertisents bearing the Pri Minister’s portrait.
Every square, every street turned into a sea of rage.
“Pri Minister step down” was no longer a demand but an unequivocal ultimatum, its violent force seed to tear apart the gloomy London sky, utterly overturning Westminster!
Inside the Pri Minister’s residence, the atmosphere was colder and more desperate than a morgue, as if soone had died.
“Shaless! Despicable! Treacherous parasites! Bastards!”
The Pri Minister’s eyes were bloodshot, veins bulged on his forehead, his fists pounded onto the expensive mahogany desk, emitting a dull boom.
An expensive bone china teacup was swept to the ground, shattering into pieces.
“They had no intention for negotiations! They simply want to humiliate us! To nail us onto the pillar of sha for eternity, they’re mocking !”
His voice was hoarse, filled with the fury of being toyed with and betrayed.
But if you listen closely, you might hear a hint of fear.
Fear of the end of his political career, fear of the complete collapse of the Empire!
He paced back and forth, steps chaotic, his mind blank, except for the haunting laughter of the Drug Lord’s leader and the thunderous roar of the crowd outside, nothing else.
What to do? What else can be done?
He was like an ant on a hot pan, unable to find any gap for escape.
Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind, “What if I just close my eyes, kick up my legs, and end up in a hospital, wouldn’t that solve all the problems?”
But this thought only made a round.
Mainly it was too shaful!
A bit undignified.
As the Pri Minister was overwheld by the dostic fury, new strikes ca one after another, precisely stabbing into Britain’s already blood-soaked back.
In the National Palace of xico, Casare’s figure appeared on the TV screen, he did not ntion Britain’s specific predicant, but it was as if every word he spoke was about Britain, even directly cursing.
“The whole world has seen a disgusting spectacle: a self-proclaid great nation attempting to engage in filthy dealings with the cancer of human civilization, drug trafficking terrorists!”
Casare’s voice, amplified across the world, was filled with undisguised disdain and firmness, “This is a desecration of justice! A betrayal to all the warriors fighting on the front lines against drugs! Even more a humiliation to all lives hard by drugs!”
He stood up straight, declaring decisively:
“Facing the Drug Lords, there is only one choice: kill them!! Crush them completely with an iron fist! Negotiation? Compromise? Those are the deeds of cowards and traitors! Drug traffickers must be exterminated, never negotiated! Any form of appeasent is drinking poison to quench thirst, self-inflicted doom! The Colombian people and governnt will forever spurn this disgraceful appeasent! We only uphold one principle: complete elimination, leave none alive!”
Casare’s firm, morally superior speech was like a loud slap, fiercely striking the swollen face of the British governnt and Royal Family.
He not only thoroughly negated Britain’s desperate “deal” attempt, nailing them onto the sha pole of “cowards” and “traitors,” but also positioned xico as the only “correct” and “firm” benchmark in the global struggle against drugs. Britain’s humiliation beca the perfect backdrop for him to highlight his stance and attack rivals.
No one understands the shalessness and cowardice of drug traffickers better than us!
Kill them, send them to et Hell!
And in Colombia, the current President Armando Benedetto astutely sensed this rare political opportunity.
He quickly assembled the dia, delivering a nationwide address, with a look of sorrow and “determination” on his face.
“Dear compatriots.” Armando’s voice sounded earnest and profound, “We are experiencing a severe test. The regrettable choices of external forces not only failed to solve the crisis but objectively provided a reprieve for the cancer entrenched on our land, even bolstered their arrogance!”
“Even more heartbreaking,” he shifted the tone, voice sharp, “So internal forces, misguided or even secretly colluding with external wrong guidance, are exploiting this national tragedy, attempting to shake our unity, undermine our resolution to independently resolve the drug issue! They disregard national sovereignty and people’s safety, willingly becoming the vanguard of external appeasent policy!”
“This is disgraceful betrayal!!”
“They ignore facts for their selfish desires!”
Armando straightened his chest, voice abruptly rising, filled with “righteous fury”:
“At this critical mont, I call on all true patriots to unite! We must decisively eliminate these internal noises and obstacles! Any attempt to interfere in internal affairs through external forces or harm Colombia’s national interests and dignity is intolerable! The governnt will take all necessary asures to defend national sovereignty, uphold the dignity of the law, completely eliminate the cancer and all its accomplices!”
Armando’s speech was a blatant political purge manifesto.
It’s obviously penned by xicans.
He cleverly turned Britain’s humiliating peace attempt into a lethal weapon against dostic political adversaries.
By binding the opposition with “external appeasent” and “damaging sovereignty,” he successfully directed internal contradictions outward and cloaked potential political cleanup actions in “patriotism” and “anti-drug” finery.
Britain’s disaster beca the perfect catalyst for him to consolidate power and purge dissent.
And on November 12th.
Armando Benedetto decided to convene Parliant; it’s ti to reckon with those insurgents not loyal to xico.
Right now, no one can tell who’s the boss, minds are muddled and scrambled!
And for this reason, Erich Manstein’s xican Army moved toward Bogota under the guise of resupply.
A bloody storm is about to descend.
…
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