Working as a police officer in Mexico Chapter 1546: 719: Never Been Beaten! (Part 2)

Capítulo 1546: Chapter 719: Never Been Beaten! (Part 2)

The leading lieutenant stood beside the machine gunner, looking at the group of people below like lambs to the slaughter, he raised his hand and spoke loudly:

“Ready—”

“No——!!!” Diego let out his final desperate scream.

The lieutenant’s hand suddenly swung down:

“Fire!”

“Boom boom boom boom boom——!!!”

“Da da da da da——!!!”

The rain of bullets from two machine guns instantly swept through the crowd.

The 7.62mm full-power bullets easily tore through flesh, bringing with them sprays of blood mist and fragnts.

The screams were completely drowned out by the deafening gunfire.

The crowd fell like wheat cut down, bodies rolling violently under the impact of the bullets, blood quickly pooling into thick patches.

After the first belt of bullets ran out, there was a brief pause in the gunfire.

The lieutenant coldly watched the scene below.

“Reload, finish them off.” He ordered again.

The soldiers silently replaced the belts, or picked up assault rifles, walked down the riverbed, and calmly pulled the trigger at any targets still writhing or seeming alive.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

The few sporadic single shots served as the final annotations of this massacre.

When everything was completely silent, under the moonlight, the riverbed of El Arroyo Creek was left with more than seventy shattered bodies, layered and piled up.

The soldiers began to silently pour gasoline over the bodies.

One soldier tossed a lit match into the pile of corpses.

“Boom—!”

The flas shot up suddenly, instantly consuming the twisted corpses, the blaze rose, and the crackling noise from burning fat filled the air with an indescribable stench of roasted and scorched at.

The soldiers watched the fire expressionlessly.

They did not wait for the flas to fully extinguish, nor did they conduct any follow-up clean-up.

After the leading lieutenant confird all targets were dead and the fire was enough to draw attention, he simply waved his hand: “Mission complete, retreat.”

The convoy vanished into the darkness as swiftly as they ca.

At dawn the next morning, with the sky barely starting to lighten.

A few nearby villagers, their nerves rattled by the continuous gunfire and blazing flas of the night before, finally gathered courage among themselves and carefully ventured towards El Arroyo Creek.

The closer they got, the stronger the stench of scorched at beca.

When they climbed the last dirt slope and saw the scene in the riverbed clearly, everyone froze.

On the dry riverbed lay wreckage, charred and twisted objects unrecognizable.

So bodies still held a posture of struggle, with carbonized arms reaching towards the sky.

Unburnt clothing fragnts clung to the charred bodies.

“Ugh—!” One villager bent over and vomited on the spot.

Another villager’s legs weakened, and he sat down heavily on the ground.

“Dead…dead…all dead people…”

“Run! Run away!!” Soone shouted, and the group scrambled back, screaming in terror as if ghosts were chasing them.

Their screams attracted more people.

The news spread like wildfire in Sakapu Town and surrounding areas.

More and more people gathered beside El Arroyo Creek, pointing fingers.

Admittedly, there were quite a few people joining the commotion.

…

What happened in Michoacán State couldn’t be entirely sealed off.

Despite the official dia’s silence, blurry photos taken by witnesses with crude devices and exaggerated verbal accounts began to sporadically appear online.

“Michoacán Massacre!” “Victor regi massacres civilians!” “Help! International community look at xico!” Titles and hashtags like these started to erge.

So photos captured the ruins of burned villages and soldiers patrolling the streets with a murderous air, with even so distant shots of the shocking pile of charred bodies beside El Arroyo Creek and the tragic state of Santa Ana Village.

The online public opinion suddenly sparked waves.

Especially on so international social platforms and forums, it attracted significant attention and discussion, with so condemning the governnt’s brutality and others sympathizing with the so-called “persecuted,” interwoven with all kinds of credible and emotional statents.

However, these voices quickly disappeared within xico’s dostic network.

Victor had long established the xico National Internet Information Security Departnt, knowing such things would happen in the coming internet era.

Posts with sensitive keywords and images would be almost instantly captured, locked, and then technically deleted.

The IP address of the publisher would be recorded, and the account would be permanently banned. So discussion groups with overly intense conversations were directly disbanded.

In a luxury apartnt in xico City.

A wealthy young man nad sat vigorously at his computer.

Having been raised in privilege and influenced by the ideas of “freedom” and “democracy” since young, he has always harbored resentnt towards Victor’s strong rule.

At this mont, he was fiercely criticizing what happened in Michoacán State on an overseas forum in fluent English and reposting those hard-to-spread “bloody photos,” alongside sarcastic comnts ridiculing Victor.

“See, this is the true face of the strongman politics you support! Butcher! Executioner! What xico needs is freedom, not bloody stability!”

He rapidly tapped on the keyboard, feeling like a fearless warrior against tyranny.