Chapter 62: You Will Understand Once You See It

After sending away the people in the room, Milton hurried back to his own quarters, got into bed, and closed his eyes to sleep.

With all the chaos of the past few days, his biological clock was completely thrown off.

The moment he closed and opened his eyes, the time was 12:30 PM. No one dared to disturb Milton's rest here, yet his sleep was far from peaceful.

There was no helping it; he simply had too many enemies.

Getting up and leaving the room, Milton saw Leah diligently cleaning up while several newspapers from various media outlets lay scattered across the table.

Milton picked up one of them at random while grabbing a piece of bread to simply line his stomach.

"Heinous Atrocity... The Vancom Gang attacked the checkpoint last night, resulting in the deaths of at least 10 inspectors and the destruction of countless valuables."

The set of photographs accompanying this report showed the checkpoint engulfed in flames, numerous inspectors lying in pools of blood, and the corpse of a Vancom Gang member.

The checkpoint was not far from here; anyone could spend an hour to verify the authenticity of the photos.

Once people confirmed that some unbelievable details in a report were true, they would subconsciously believe the rest of the content as well.

Even if that content was entirely fabricated.

At that moment, Flora, who had also woken up not long ago, walked over and vigorously shook the newspaper in her hand. "'Taxman', did you see this? The four of us were truly amazing last night! The reporter you found is quite reliable, too."

"The quality of this report is actually mediocre, with a bit too much sensationalism, but Olya wrote it overnight, so the standard is indeed quite good."

Flora laughed heartily. "This time, Varta and the checkpoint suffered such heavy losses. I can already picture you becoming the master of the checkpoint in the near future."

Milton swallowed his food and shook his head. "You're being too optimistic. On paper, aside from disrupting the collusion between the checkpoint and the Vancom Gang, this operation had almost zero actual impact on Varta."

"Varta managed to become the station chief as a result of having his own armed force and being powerful. It's not because he is the station chief that he is powerful."

"His core armed forces were taken out and didn't suffer heavy losses in this raid."

Flora gulped down a mouthful of water and dismissively let out an "oh well." "At least we caused him a bit of economic loss, that's not bad either."

"Come on, let's do some simple math." Milton walked over to the dining area and picked up a can of baked beans in tomato sauce. "Excluding Carlos's personal assets, how much money did we actually take from the checkpoint?"

Flora counted on her fingers for five seconds and replied, "That batch of cargo had a paper value of over 50,000 dollars. Factor in the 150,000 dollars in cash, the buildings we blew up, and the dead bodies—let's be generous for his sake. On paper, the checkpoint should have lost about 300,000 dollars."

The true value of that batch of medical supplies, much like the military frequency-hopping radio Milton had previously seized, could not be calculated simply by price tags.

However, since this was a mathematical tally, those factors could be ignored.

Milton pulled open the can and forced himself to eat, saying at the same time, "It won't be long before you see news headlines about the checkpoint losing at least 10 million Quetzales—which translates to a million dollars."

Flora was stunned.

Milton continued, "Indeed, looking purely at the economic ledger, he might even turn a profit. Having been station chief for so long, Varta will definitely find a way to 'write off' this loss."

"What the hell!" Flora couldn't take it anymore, slamming her cup down indignantly. "We risked our lives just to loot 300k, and he can claw back 700k just by flapping his gums?"

That's right, seventy percent of it belonged to someone else.

Milton had eaten his fill, stood up, and said, "To challenge the existing order means facing these exact kinds of hardships."

"The good news is that we won't be facing an alliance anymore. The bad news is that both the Vancom Gang and Varta are stronger than before."

Flora, quite accustomed to this lifestyle, scraped up the remaining beans and asked, "Who do you plan to deal with first? The Vancom Gang or the checkpoint?"

Milton chuckled, turned, and walked toward the door. "Needless to say, it has to be the Vancom Gang. I've said it before: we must grow stronger first before we qualify to become station chiefs."

"Alright, you guys keep guarding the pharmacy. Go check on Brandon at the black clinic; he should be waking up soon as well."

"The 'Bottle' has received it~ At your service~"

"..."

Reaching the doorway, Milton cast a glance at the outer perimeter of the old street, seeing that sandbags and caltrops had already been piled up under Luz's command, with simple guard posts set up, while "Poison" and "Anvil" were lying low in hidden sentry spots, ready to act at a moment's notice.

The two individuals not recognized by the system as "allies" were not positioned in critical areas.

Not bad... Milton nodded. At the very least, they now possessed a tiny bit of "strategic depth."

At this rate, it wouldn't be long before the old street completely transformed into Milton's sphere of influence.

Though they had banded together temporarily out of external pressure simply to protect themselves, while forming a alliance was easy, shaking off Milton's control afterward would be no simple feat.

"Boss!" Luz spotted Milton and hurried over. "The old street is now under lockdown. Is there anything else you think needs improvement?"

"Good enough for now. Offense is the best defense." Milton glanced over roughly, found no major flaws, and waved his hand. "Let's go, let's check on Brandon."

"Alright!"

A few minutes later, the two walked into the black clinic. Just as Milton had guessed, the surgery had been successfully completed, and Brandon had been moved from the operating table to a regular ward.

Brandon's complexion was still pale and weak, revealing that he had just suffered severe trauma, but his breathing was steady, and the frightening "aura of death" from before was gone.

Milton asked, "Were the shrapnel pieces cleaned out?"

"Cleaner than my wallet," the doctor said with a joking smile. "After a month of recovery, he can go invade the United States with you. Seriously, it's a miracle."

From emergency response to surgery and equipment supply, every single link had been handled nearly to perfection.

Even with the right channels to requisition equipment, doing all this in just two hours was extraordinarily difficult!

"..."

As the effects of the anesthesia gradually faded, consciousness abruptly returned to Brandon's brain. He snapped his eyes open and saw the doctor and the boss standing by his bed.

He struggled to sit up and looked down at his thigh, terrified of finding an empty trouser leg: "My leg..."

"Don't worry, it couldn't be better. Stop moving around!"

"And my lungs..."

"No problems there either. Rest assured, the surgery was a success, and there won't be any lingering side effects."

Certain that his leg was still there and that he could still breathe, Brandon relaxed instantly, his body going limp with relief. "Ah, that's wonderful... Thank you, Boss! Thank you, Doctor!"

The doctor chuckled. "No need to thank me, just thank your boss. The credit belongs mostly to him."

Brandon looked slightly puzzled. "Can the boss perform surgery too?"

The doctor turned, picked up a newspaper from the table, and handed it to Brandon, a smile still lingering on his face. "Read it. Once you read it, you'll understand."