Of course, the one being cursed wasn’t Casare, but Victor, since after all, he was the head of the Governor’s Mansion.
"He’ll end up in hell sooner or later!"
Victor almost wanted to laugh when he heard the other party’s "vicious" curse, with a discontinued copy of "My Struggle" resting on his knees.
Holding the microphone in his hand, "xico’s religion is too lax, we need to have our own sect, what do you think?"
Caught off guard, Casare hesitated, not sure if he understood correctly, "Boss, you an…"
"I think the current doctrine doesn’t suit us, we should establish a new church like the United Kingdom and have the xican sect break away from the constraints of the Roman Curia!"
"I should ascend to the throne and beco King in Tijuana!"
Casare’s eyes widened. He was no longer illiterate, especially after serving as mayor in several places, his cultural understanding had grown, and he had read quite a bit about the rise of the United Kingdom.
The British Royals were actually the leaders of the Church of England; they were the genuine Marshals of land, sea, and air forces and held a secondary job as charlatans.
Moreover, it was hereditary.
Casare, no longer a Smooth Operator, suddenly thought, had the boss been "waiting" for this day for a long ti?
Did he deliberately leverage his authority to incite religious reformation?
If one day the boss did have offspring, then that child would be a born leader…
At the very least, this could maintain his family’s rule for over a century.
Hiss…
He’s not really planning to establish a hereditary dictatorship, right? It’s been ages since xico had an Emperor.
Casare was overthinking a bit.
However, he did indeed have an active mind. Better a short pain than a long one. Anyway, the new order was being redefined, it was the perfect ti to snatch an egg from the ashes.
"Casare…" Victor softly called from the other end.
Fat Casare quickly snapped back to attention, "I think you are right, boss! The Roman Curia has been too carefree with their heretics for too long. Their beliefs in God are idiotic. It should be the xicans who reshape God!"
"Maybe… Jesus was xican?"
Victor laughed when he heard this. He only wanted to branch out from within, but you went ahead and tried to uproot their very foundation.
The Vatican would have to launch a crusade by tomorrow, although it would be useless, but you’ve left them without their "undergarnts" for a thousand years.
Victor couldn’t allow Casare to do such a thing, so he set the tone, "Leave the professional matters to the professionals. Go find so theologians, priests; they know how to fabricate ’miracles’."
"Don’t be stingy with money; even Jesus could be asured with 30 silver coins, there will always be soone willing to follow in Judas’s footsteps."
"Miracles…"
Casare’s brain began to work overti again, he got it!
"Just do it, there’s nothing to worry about, those countries protest, but don’t cause actual harm, just ignore them." After reassuring him a couple of tis, Victor set him free to improvise.
He was not worried in the slightest.
Emperor Vic was xico’s first true battler.
He wasn’t the neighbor Kennedy; he was an iron-boned tough guy who ca up from the grassroots. Back on Guadalupe Island, when he was surrounded by a precarious situation, wolves in front and tigers behind, encircled by the Tijuana Cartel for a day and a night.
He was never afraid then.
Was he afraid of European minor players now?
He scoffed at Italy for being spineless, France for lacking n, Germany for lacking courage, the United Kingdom for lacking balls, and the other countries?
Ridiculous, ridiculous, Yankee lapdogs, pah!
The crusade?
I’ll drag my statue into the Vatican tomorrow!
The end
Victor cradled the book in his hand, pinching it hard with his fingers, and just as he was spacing out at that mont,
Jason Bourne ran over, "Sir, an official from Austria has arrived."
Victor lifted his chin slightly, "Let him in."
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Commander Jason pressed the earpiece on his chest and let the visitors in.
Four or five people arrived, led by a man with a red necktie, who did command quite a presence.
"xican Governor Victor!"
"Hello," Victor stood up and shook his hand.
The visitor had a very grave expression, "On behalf of the Austrian governnt, I protest against the incident that occurred within your country, and Vienna does not welco you. This is the signed order, please leave Austria within three days."
Victor looked at him, then at the letter in his hand, "Is this an expulsion?"
That took the visitor by surprise.
"This is rely a protest against the events in Northern xico!" The visitor still didn’t dare say expulsion.
Those words carried too much weight, and Victor was a man of the mont.
Expulsion and asking him to leave are different things, although both didn’t look good in terms of saving face.
Mainly because he was too much trouble. The beaten journalist’s family was protesting daily at the police station and court, demanding a sentence for Victor.
It put them in a difficult position.
So in the Austrian governnt also hoped Victor would pay compensation to that journalist.
The xican Governor directly donated 6 million to the United Nations Children’s Fund, but refused to compensate the journalist.
If he keeps up this behavior, next ti he’ll just end up at Little Mustache’s forr residence.
Better to leave, better to leave quickly.
Victor nodded, "I understand. My Guard Corps and my private jet will arrive tonight."
The visitor sighed with relief and then walked out.
"Austrians are not hospitable at all," Jason Bourne comnted on his behalf.
Victor smiled, "When people don’t welco you, you have to be tactful."
"Get everything ready, we’re preparing to go back. We’ll have the xican Drug Enforcent Agency send a commissioner to stay in Austria long term."
"Who do you think should be sent?"
Victor narrowed his eyes, as nas flickered through his mind.
"Hermosillo Prison’s Warden, Joachim Ribbentrop, has perford excellently, I admire his actions. Transfer him to be the commissioner."
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