Chapter 61: The Forbidden Zone

Milton truly hadn't expected that fighting a few battles would yield such unexpected results.

As many as fifteen people visited the pharmacy, gathered in groups of twos and threes, representing eleven nearby shops.

They either carried valuables in their hands or brought cash, and their purpose was crystal clear.

In the impending reshuffle, only by huddling together for warmth could they hope to secure a firm footing.

"Good morning, Mr. 'Hell Taxman.' I heard you've been collecting taxes recently. So as not to cause you any trouble, a few of us discussed it and decided to come and pay voluntarily. Take a look and see if anything is missing or incorrect."

Quite a few of them wore nervous expressions. Obviously, everyone was completely lost about what their fate might hold in the future.

Milton estimated the value of these items; each shop had brought roughly two to three hundred dollars, totaling over three thousand five hundred dollars.

To be honest, it wasn't much.

However, its greatest advantage was that this tax revenue came with zero cost and zero risk.

Milton didn't turn down the money: "Proactive and cooperative—the marks of a quality taxpayer. Excellent."

Luz, standing nearby, lowered his voice to remind him: "Boss, these people are just sensing that something big might happen soon and think staying close to you makes them safer, which is why they're coming to suck up. In the past, they probably paid protection money to the Vancom Gang."

"I think we should just throw them to the outer perimeter to make some noise and boost our presence. We shouldn't trust them too much."

"Of course I know that," Milton smiled. "Loyalty can't be cultivated overnight, but I can certainly cultivate a lot of enemies for them in a very short time."

Luz was stunned at first, then his eyes widened: "Holy shit... You mean make them kill a few Vancom Gang members?"

"That would be too drastic and too obvious in its intent. To cultivate enemies for them, you actually don't need to do that much," Milton shook his head. "When making decisions, your perspective must be global; you have to think from the other party's point of view... We think these people are disloyal and fence-sitters, but do you think the Vancom Gang trusts them and considers them loyal?"

Luz paused for a moment: "So you're saying we just need to make them perform actions that look mild to themselves, but clearly look hostile from the Vancom Gang's perspective?"

Milton spoke at a leisurely pace: "Exactly. Besides, who can blame Raul for being such a cautious man?"

"That's ruthless..." Awe flickered in Luz's eyes. "Boss, what do you plan to do?"

After brief consideration, Milton waved his hand, beckoning the fence-sitters over, and issued an order.

"There are major events about to happen in town, and the most important task right now is to protect the Old Street from enemy infiltration."

"This is our sphere of influence. The police department, checkpoints, and gangs—none of them are getting their hands in here."

"I need your help. Use the architectural terrain to set up sandbag roadblocks or other obstacles to implement pedestrian access control across the entire Old Street."

Someone immediately asked: "What if someone from the police department comes and insists on coming in?"

Milton chuckled: "Then tell them that the Vancom Gang thugs who had the audacity to blow up a police car and launch an armed assault on the checkpoint are hiding right here in the Old Street."

Another person asked: "Well, what if the Vancom Gang people insist on coming in?"

Milton almost rolled his eyes: "Are you going to let them in just because they want to? They're gang members. If you see them, kill them on sight and hang them from the lampposts."

"If you don't know how to shoot, just stall them a little. My men will do the shooting."

"If you notice any unusual movements or gossip, report it to me. I'll pay you discretionarily based on the value of the information—entirely voluntary... Now, those willing to join me, raise your hands."

Not a single person believed the phrase "entirely voluntary," and all fifteen people gently raised their hands.

At the same time, Milton glanced at his system interface—out of the fifteen people before him, thirteen were classified as informants and became teammates, while the remaining two were not.

Milton leaned in and whispered to Luz: "From left to right, keep a tight eye on the fifth and eighth ones. The moment you feel threatened or think they're up to something suspicious, feel free to execute them first and report it later."

Luz didn't ask how the boss had figured out those two were sketchy; he just quietly repeated: "I... feel threatened?"

"Yes. We have no room for trial and error."

Just as Milton was about to dismiss these people, a young man in the group suddenly stepped forward and whispered: "Officer, I have a little something else I'd like to give you."

Milton scanned the interface, confirmed the man was still an "ally," and nodded, saying: "Bring it here and let me see."

At the same time, Milton temporarily cleared the other fourteen people from the room.

Soon, the young man dragged a large bag in with great effort and yanked open the zipper.

Several guns were revealed inside, along with several round objects rolling about.

It was a large bag of weapons.

"Brand new AKMs with the smell of gun oil still lingering, equipped with AIMS folding stocks and PSO-1 optical scopes, plus a whole bunch of Soviet RGN offensive grenades and RGO defensive grenades... Not bad, all good stuff."

These two types of grenades were fitted with mechanical impact fuses, detonating the moment they hit the ground, leaving enemies with no time to react.

Even now, the interface hadn't unlocked the exchange option for these two types of "impact grenades," which showed just how useful they were.

To Milton right now, their utility was astronomical!

"They're mine now. Don't worry, you'll receive tax breaks far exceeding their value."

The young man smiled: "They were already yours to begin with, Officer."

Milton looked at him for a moment and asked: "Why?"

The young man didn't hide anything: "Three years ago, I just had a child. Then the Vancom Gang came, robbed my shop, and killed my wife. I called the police, and in the end, the court handed down a two-year sentence."

"It wasn't the Vancom Gang member who got two years—I was the one who got two years."

"When I was released, my child was gone, too."

"These weapons were originally prepared for them. I heard your story, and I believe you can use them better than I ever could."

The young man's tone was flat, as if he were telling someone else's story.

So he had intended to go out in a blaze of glory... No wonder he had bought so many explosives.

Milton remained completely calm, yet said with equal sincerity: "Since you've paid your taxes, you enjoy the rights of a taxpayer under my protection... Tell me your name."

"Mateo," the young man maintained a smile on his face. "My tavern is right across the street next to the Chinese restaurant. Officers, you're welcome to drop by anytime."

Milton didn't refuse: "If I get the chance."

At that moment, Mateo offered another reminder: "Officer, there are still some people inside the Old Street who haven't come forward. What do you plan to do with them?"

"If they make no moves, we'll exclude them from the core zone and ignore them for now," Milton replied. "If they make a move, then they are criminals colluding with the Vancom Gang."

As for later... they would turn back to deal with them once the threat of the Vancom Gang had been cleared.

Perhaps Milton wouldn't remember everyone who had paid taxes to him, but he would certainly remember crystal clear everyone who hadn't.

Milton turned around, raised his head, clapped his hands, and signaled for everyone to take action: "Alright, get moving! Remember, no Vancom Gang members, no dogs... and no police officers are allowed inside the Old Street!"

Except for Brandon, of course.

"Oh, and remember to order an afternoon paper for me."