Capítulo 1305: Chapter 633: Merit Cannot Save Your Life!
Every time a name was called, an agent quickly walked behind them.
The person whose name was called needed no prompting, under immense fear and pressure, either gently helped up by the agent or tremblingly standing up on their own, then silently led out of the meeting room, some people’s legs were shaking.
A line came to mind: Where the fuck were you earlier?
The door closed again, leaving only heavy breathing and deadly silence in the meeting room.
The empty seats were painfully conspicuous.
Some ministers had no one beside them, their areas were vacant, they themselves were a bit restless, even breaking out in a cold sweat.
Victor slowly raised his head, his gaze no longer sharp as a knife but rather condensed with a heavy and scorching force, like suppressed lava finally finding its outlet.
His voice wasn’t loud, yet it struck everyone’s heart like a heavy hammer, each word carried a burning heat:
“I know.” He spoke, his voice a bit hoarse but containing immense power, “I know what you want, wealth? Status? To let your families live well? To ensure our brothers bleeding and sweating with us are no longer worried about tomorrow’s bread? I, Victor, do I not understand?”
His gaze swept over the remaining people, eyes filled with regret, anger, and most deeply with disappointment.
“But do I lack these things?!!!” His voice suddenly rose, chest heaving dramatically, “What were you like before, have you forgotten? Minister of Commerce: Ludwig Erhard”
Pointing directly at the Minister of Commerce, he said unceremoniously, “How did you live before? Eating moldy black bread, drinking poor-quality booze mixed with sawdust, watching family freeze and starve to death in winter, like rats at the bottom of the mine, whipped by drug traffickers and gangs. Hiding in damp gutters, clutching precious bullets, wondering if you would survive tomorrow!”
He suddenly slammed a fist onto the heavy oak table, making a muffled bang, with the glasses on the table buzzing.
“Back then, what was the gamble of life for? To sit in warm palaces today, enjoying with funds tainted with the blood and tears of compatriots? To let our children, consuming the powder we brought in with our own hands, become walking dead?!”
His voice trembled with extreme anger, and a barely noticeable red glimmer appeared in his eyes.
“Money! Money is a good thing! I don’t oppose you making money! Do everything possible to promote development! To promote trade! To promote production! Openly and honestly, to make the country wealthy, to make the people wealthy, to make yourselves wealthy too! What’s wrong with that?! Did I, Victor, stop you from making money?!”
“Fuck your mothers!”
An expletive slipped out uncontrollably.
He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his tumultuous emotions, but the pain was clearly etched on his face.
“But drugs? No! Absolutely not! It’s poison eroding our foundation! It’s the plague destroying the souls of the next generation! It’s the most despicable weapon the enemy uses to corrode our will! Think of those twitching children in the slums! Think of those parents selling their flesh and blood for a packet of powder! Think of the oath we swore! ‘For a better life’? Is this how you understand ‘better’?!
He suddenly stood up, hands braced on the table edge, body leaning forward, eyes fixed intently on everyone, as if penetrating their souls:
“Whoever touches this, is betrayal! Betraying the blood we’ve shed! Betraying our fallen brothers! Betraying this country we’ve built from ruins with our own hands! Betraying the countless compatriots who trust us and put their future in our hands! Whoever touches this is no longer my brother! Whoever must be eliminated from our ranks! Are the rotten flesh that must be cut out!”
He stood upright, chest still heaving, but his tone carried a nearly tragic determination:
“The ones taken today, they crossed this red line. They chose betrayal. I gave them opportunities, more than once! But they took our understanding as weakness! Took our tolerance as indulgence! Now, they tell us clearly with themselves, with their filthy hands, with their hearts blinded by greed—this red line, cannot be touched! Once touched, it’s a dead end!”
The last four words, he spat out almost through gritted teeth, word by word, with bone-chilling murderous intent, also carrying a deeply painful burden.
Victor took a deep breath, venting the anger within him, then sat down again.
The meeting room was dead silent, only his burning words repeated in everyone’s ear, in everyone’s heart, leaving a lasting imprint.
The heavy “remembering the hardship,” the questioning of “brotherly” feelings, the understanding of “getting rich” and the absolute taboo on “drug trafficking,” like invisible shackles, more like red-hot branding irons, deeply etched into everyone’s soul.
The air felt like it had solidified into heavy lead, making breathing difficult.
“Go back, think about what I said today, think about why you were seated here initially, think if you deserve to be seated here now.”
“Get out!”
Victor hadn’t sworn so crudely in a long while, but these damned skins just need a good knocking.
No one dared to linger, no one dared to meet eyes, no one dared to make an extra sound.
The ministers almost held their breath, moving stiffly and silently to get up, streaming out, as if fleeing an active minefield, their heavy footsteps quickly fading down the empty corridor.
“Casare.”
After everyone left, Victor’s deep voice sounded, his gaze not lifted.
“Boss.”
Victor was silent for a few seconds, his gaze seemingly penetrating the heavy table.
He spoke, voice carrying a barely discernible weariness: “How is he?”
Casare caught on: “Arranged at the ‘Sini District Manor,’ with security and medical teams on standby 24/7, his health is fine, just a bit down emotionally.”
“Do you say…” Victor paused, breathing out “should we go see him?”
Actually, he wasn’t always as strong as imagined, he had been in contact with the opposite party from the start, at the beginning merely wanting symbolic recognition, eventually moved by Cuauhtémoc’s patriotism, working together for the anti-drug cause.
Like what?
It’s like Zhang Liang and Liu Bang!
Casare lowered his head, “Boss, I don’t know either.”
Victor slowly stood up, back towards Casare, walked to the large floor-to-ceiling window.
His silhouette elongated in the light, exuding deep solitude, staring at the gloomy skyline outside, silent for a long time.
After looking for a long time.
Finally, a low, hoarse, heavy and weary voice broke the silence:
“After returning from Tepeya Mountain tomorrow, I want to go see him, even if he hates me, he will understand, but if a mistake is made, one must take the punishment.”
Seeing him is a brother’s duty, but forgiving Tatiana is practically impossible.
A mistake is a mistake, credit is credit, when did credit start trading for life?
“I’ll make arrangements.” Casare said firmly.
Victor nodded, “Let’s go.”
The two walked out of the meeting room, security personnel standing outside, preparing to leave, suddenly hearing the phone ringing, Casare hurriedly tucked to the back to answer, “Hello!”
“Ah? Alright, got it, I’ll report to the Supreme Leader now.”
After hanging up, Victor was looking at him, “What’s wrong? Is something else happening again?”
The use of the word “again” was apt, as he felt tired, afraid of more trouble arising.
Being a boss requires cleaning up after others’ messes, headache indeed.
“Boss, our people have infiltrated Medellin!”
…