Chapter 831: Chapter 450: There’s Always Soone Holding a Torch High, Illuminating the Darkness! (Happy New Year!!)
Faced with the influx of Aricans next door, the xican Governnt had long prepared a response.
They intended to capture a slice of this “national fortune” amidst the torrent.
The “xico Foreign Talent Act” took the stage!
The act explicitly stated that foreign nationals who graduated from U.S. News’ top 10 universities, were willing to naturalize in xico, did not change citizenship for five years, and had family mbers residing in xico could receive a monthly subsidy of 300 US Dollars.
Furthermore, individuals in education, research, IT, and related industries who signed contracts for three or more years would receive a one-ti talent grant of 1,200 US Dollars.
Naturalization with a national award would bring a reward of 200,000 US Dollars; continental-level awards would be worth 400,000 US Dollars; world-class awards would earn 1 million US Dollars. Winning a Nobel Prize? A flat reward of 1.7 million US Dollars.
Keep in mind, even in 1991, the Nobel Prize was only worth 5 million crowns, roughly 800,000 US Dollars.
This act offered prices far beyond that.
In addition to financial rewards, there were also prestige-related benefits, such as opportunities to independently establish research teams.
For the ritocratic research community, it was like bait in water — imnsely appealing to young researchers.
Apart from attracting elite researchers, the “xico Foreign Talent Act” also granted ordinary citizens all rights upon naturalization.
They would also be allocated farmland to partake in the benefits of reforms.
However, naturalized citizens had to comply with xican laws, such as giving up personal gun ownership, refraining from drug use, and adhering to laws prohibiting minors from smoking.
The mont this act was unveiled, it caused a sensation in North Arica and even throughout Latin Arica.
It could even be described as an earthquake.
Though seemingly strict, these regulations were precisely what struck a chord with many “parents.”
Across Latin Arica, perhaps with the minor exception of North Arica’s semblance of order, it’s honestly hard to na a country where you don’t face the ever-present risk of being robbed at gunpoint the mont you step outside.
Among the world’s 100 most dangerous cities, at least 80 are in South Arica.
If not for Victor’s rise to power and the subsequent sustained crackdown on cri, xico wouldn’t be much safer itself.
Those who’ve never experienced it often think certain cris exist only as “exaggerated descriptions” in writing.
But reality is often far more intense than you can imagine.
Brazil. Sao Paulo.
The infamous “cri paradise.”
Vila Olímpia neighborhood.
Predominantly a middle-class area, it appeared relatively tidy, even clean, on the surface.
But the lurking gazes in the alleyways still made so tourists uncomfortable.
Neymar Junior, carrying a school bag, nervously glanced over his shoulder, his expression a mixture of terror as though sothing were chasing him.
A shadow suddenly darted out from afar, startling him so much he let out a yelp. His long legs took off in a sprint, and he dashed ho, pounding on the door with all his might.
“Mom! Mom, open the door! Mom!” His voice nearly broke into sobs.
Finally, the door opened, and a burly man stood there. Without noticing, Neymar ran straight into his arms.
“Neymar.” The deep voice made the boy freeze. He looked up, and upon seeing the familiar face, excitent lit up his own. “Dad!”
He threw himself into his father’s arms.
The man was tall, about six-foot-three, wearing glasses that gave him a scholarly air. He gently patted Neymar’s head affectionately. “What happened?”
“There’s… soone following .” Neymar stamred, his voice trembling.
Manuel Francisco furrowed his brow and glanced toward the street. Sure enough, he saw a figure standing under the lamplight, staring back at him with a nacing glare.
“Co inside.”
He knitted his brows, ushered his son indoors, and shut the door firmly.
In the semi-open kitchen of the living room, an elegant woman was placing food on the table.
“You’re back from school? Neymar, co, eat quickly.”
“Wait. Adriana, co here first.” The husband’s deep tone carried urgency.
The woman looked at him in confusion but walked over, smiling as she stroked Neymar’s head. “What’s wrong?”
“I think… we should move sowhere else.”
“??? What do you an?” Adriana was clearly startled.
Manuel Francisco fell silent for a mont. Instinctively, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, but just as he placed it between his lips, he saw his son watching him. Pausing, he broke the cigarette in two.
“Because of my job, I’ve made a lot of enemies. You all need to leave Sao Paulo first.”
Adriana opened her mouth, as though about to protest.
“Dad, you still haven’t told what you really do.” Neymar interjected.
“Neymar!” Adriana scolded sharply. She knew her husband worked as a police officer, but she didn’t know the specifics of his job.
Manuel Francisco let out a quiet sigh. “The newly-ford Brazilian Police Special Operations Camp. I’m one of them.”
Upon hearing the na, both wife and son’s faces froze in shock.
The Police Special Operations Camp was established in October 1991, primarily tasked with arresting drug lord leaders in the favelas.
This was the official narrative. What wasn’t widely known was that many mbers of this unit were affiliated with Ares Defense Company.
Essentially, xico’s “official rcenaries.” They had also deployed elite local forces, with Manuel Francisco being one of them.
This included capturing “Red Command” leader Denier’s brother-in-law, and killing his brother-in-law’s wife, sister, and ard father-in-law during raids.
This led to shootouts between police and gangsters at the favela entrances.
But it also catapulted the Police Special Operations Camp (BOPE) to fa in Brazil.
The realization that her husband was engaged in such dangerous work…
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