Chapter 988: Relaxing Guard and the "Zhuolan Treaty"

"You're going to regret what you did, Ca... whatever-lo!"

Christopher was a bit baffled when he received this call, but soon his subordinates came to tell him that the merchants he had asked them to watch had already left by boat, without even loading the liquor.

As for the tens of thousands in deposit they had left, it wasn't even mentioned.

Combining these things, he seemed to realize that these people might already know that he was the one controlling everything behind the scenes.

However, he didn't feel any displeasure or anger. From the performance of these people, he could see that these were not Lance's or his cousin Francisco's people.

If they were Lance's or Francisco's people, they wouldn't just say a few harsh words, claiming they would retaliate, and then just leave here in a hurry.

Their saying these words was nothing more than wanting to tell him that he had done something he shouldn't have.

But he didn't regret it, nor was he afraid.

Not regretting was proof that these people were not the ones he was worried about. He could continue to stay in this place. He really didn't want to go back to Summuri Island.

Some time ago, the Federation had found all kinds of reasons not to participate in the war, which had led to a back-and-forth pulling on the front lines. Another batch of men on Summurie Island had died.

Now many factories and enterprises could no longer recruit men, and they had to open special workshops for women.

After all, working in a factory was too hot.

Winter was slightly better. In the summer, it was simply not a place for humans to stay.

Men could still work bare-chested, but women couldn't just strip naked and work. Even if they wore something cooler, it wasn't suitable to work with men.

The government had printed many posters. The jobs that were supposed to be done by men were now printed as heroic and valiant women.

People may not have noticed, but this was perhaps another step forward for the feminist movement. Eventually, people here would discover this, and it would continue to spread and influence the world.

But in any case, now was not a good time to go back. That old guy Leonardo was not a good person. Christopher felt that if he went back, there was a high probability that he would be sent to the front line by him.

Because he had killed his own wife, his position in the Bianchi family was now somewhat awkward.

As long as he couldn't prove his value, then these people would recall the hatred of that day!

Summuri people hold a grudge. He, as a Summuri, knew this very well. His hatred for Paul had run through his entire childhood, adolescence, and youth.

Even at the moment he had killed Paul, his hatred had not been completely resolved by Paul's death.

He now indeed regretted the stupid things he had done, but he still hated Paul. This was not a contradiction.

Even though Paul had given him the best of everything.

If he could hate Paul for so long, then the people of the Bianchi family would definitely also hate him for what he had done to his wife.

His wife had only had an affair, but he had killed that playful woman!

So it was only natural for them to hate him.

But now he didn't have to worry, because he had, through his own intelligence, analyzed from these clues that these people were not the ones he was afraid of. He could continue to live freely in the Federation.

...

Devon and his men had taken four days to return to Golden Port City. They had gone by sea, taking a small detour. The route was definitely not as convenient as the railway, which was straight.

After meeting Lance, Devon had once again recounted what had happened over there in great detail, finally confirming that they had not messed up this mission.

They had come back in the morning. Lance had let them rest for a while, and they had eaten lunch together. At a little after two in the afternoon, Francisco had run over, unable to wait.

"What should we do?" he asked.

Lance signaled for him to calm down. Francisco, sitting opposite Lance, skillfully took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit one for himself. This made Lance a little surprised, but then he felt it was very normal.

Francisco was now the leader of the Passoreto family.

As a gang leader, it was normal for him to smoke, it was normal for him to drink, it was normal for him to help those girls, and it was normal for him to do anything that seemed unhealthy or illegal to others!

It was just that Lance hadn't expected it.

Perhaps sensing that Lance's gaze was focused on the cigarette in his hand, Francisco flicked it. "They say having one can solve a lot of troubles."

Lance, somewhat amused, nodded. "If you put it that way, it's not wrong."

"How about it, has it solved your troubles?"

Francisco pursed his lips and shook his head. "Smoking it does bring me some special enjoyment, nicotine, or whatever."

"They say just a little bit of nicotine can poison a horse, but what I find strange is that we have absorbed so much, but besides making us lose our anxiety and irritability, we don't seem to have lost anything else."

Right now, the mainstream media had not been able to break through the "blockade line" of the tobacco groups. They had spent a large amount of wealth as public relations funds to prevent negative comments about tobacco from appearing in the media.

If someone wanted to publish content about the dangers of smoking for a hundred dollars, then they would pay a thousand to have the newspaper remove this report, and to buy the personal information of that person.

Someone would be specially sent to "solve" this problem with him.

The profit from tobacco is huge. Take the current five-cents-a-pack cigarettes as an example.

The cost of maybe ten packs or even more is only five cents (no filter, no wrapper).

There is also a huge profit hidden in this, and the higher the price of the cigarettes, the lower the cost, and the higher the profit.

Like those cigarettes that can be sold for one or two dollars, their cost may also be only a few cents, or a dozen cents, no more.

They had also spent money to buy off some doctors, to have them tell the society that lung diseases cannot be proven to have any direct relationship with smoking, and that those promotional slogans claiming that smoking is harmful to health are even more ridiculous lies!

Because no one can, better than them, the doctors, understand the generation and treatment of diseases!

The propaganda of these interest groups has made many people now believe that smoking does not harm health, and Francisco is clearly one of the people who has been influenced by the propaganda.

Cigarettes, in this era, are really a "good thing." They can soothe emotions, can let people concentrate, can let people feel relaxed, and the most crucial thing is that it is not only harmless, but there is also no smoking ban.

Many young people, and even small children, have the habit of smoking at this time. If they can't afford it, they just pick up cigarette butts from the roadside and re-roll them.

What a crazy era!

Every smoker has his own experiences, just like the current Francisco. He believes that the nicotine that can poison a horse, yet cannot poison him, can only be said to be a lie.

In this regard, Lance did not correct him, or have the thought or obligation to persuade him, but just smiled. "As long as you're happy."

He himself also smoked, and had no right to say anything about others.

"As for Dover, don't touch him for the time being."

"I believe he will soon arrange for someone to come over, to Golden Port City's side, to keep an eye on you, on me."

"As long as we have the slightest movement, that is aimed at him, then he will immediately flee back to Summurie Island."

"At that time, if we want to catch him, we will have to go to Summurie Island, and I believe you definitely don't want to go to that place."

"A terrible, disastrous, and hellish place!"

Lance gave it a pertinent evaluation.

Francisco's expression was a bit grim, and also a bit struggling. He took several puffs of his cigarette in a row, and finally, dejectedly, his whole person relaxed. He had been tense before.

"Alright, I'll listen to you."

Lance smiled and praised him, "For a better revenge, Cisco, you need to learn to be patient."

Francisco did not refute. "I want to kill him with my own hands."

Lance nodded. "You will."

With Lance's request, Francisco soon went back. He had to keep acting as usual. He needed to wait, to wait for Lance's affairs on the Yalan side to be completely over.

This way, Lance could directly transfer his men to Becca, and without alerting Christopher.

They both knew that Christopher being alerted was definitely related to this meeting, but if they hadn't sent a person who was relatively familiar with Christopher, they couldn't be sure if that was Christopher.

From Paul's death, to now, several years had passed. Their impression of Christopher was constantly fading.

And in a few years, a person will change. Maybe he will grow a beard, maybe he will have a trendy hairstyle, plus his clothes, and some of his facial features that have changed with age.

If it wasn't someone who was really familiar with him, they might not be able to recognize him, and this had added some risks.

However, he believed that it wouldn't be long before he could personally deal with this traitor of the family, Christopher!

...

In early October, the general election had already begun. At the same time, the ammunition in Diego's hands was really running low. He didn't want to die now, and he had no place to go. He could only continue to perform according to the script.

The President of the Jede Republic had contacted him. If he could arm all his troops, even the federal people would probably have to respect his attitude.

This had re-ignited his fighting spirit. He gave Lance a call, wanting to talk about "leasing."

He had already thought it through, during this period.

If he died, no matter how bad the world became, it would not have a single bit of relationship with him.

As a ruler, he would not, like those at the bottom of society, think that after he died, he could go to the world of the dead, and after experiencing some things, he could return to the human world, and be reincarnated as a human.

These were all a method used to rule and to enslave the low-level people. He was a ruler. He knew that as long as he died, he was really dead. There was no 'after'.

Since it was destined that there would be no 'after', who the fuck would still care about what the future would become?

He now just wanted to be able to survive for a longer time, so he was going to "lease" a piece of land, from the slums near the city center of Zhuolan to the suburbs, to Lance, for a hundred years.

This was a very important matter. Lance had directly taken a boat to Zhuolan. Fortunately, it only took two days to get from Golden Port City to Zhuolan by boat. This was already a very close distance.

When Lance's convoy was once again active on the streets of Zhuolan, people knew that the leader of the federal people was back.

This time, in the negotiations with Diego, Lance had also invited Albert, but he was only an observer. This way, he didn't need to personally explain anything to Congress.

Congress was also very concerned about this.

At ten o'clock in the morning, Lance had arrived at the conference hall for the negotiations on time. Diego's side was already all there.

It looked very formal, but the actual participants in this negotiation, from both sides, added up to less than twenty.

Diego was talking to the person next to him in a low voice. When he saw Lance come in, they had finished their conversation, and he, with the support of the person by his side, had stood up, and had shaken hands with Lance.

For Diego, Lance could be called an "mortal enemy," but at this very moment, he was behaving very normally.

He knew that even if he showed hatred, enmity, and other states, it would not actually change anything, so he might as well not express it.

As for the others, Lance had no intention of shaking hands with them.

Soon he sat down on the other side of the negotiating table. There were not many people on this side, only the Federal Ambassador, Albert, and a few accompanying staff members.

After both sides had taken their seats, neither of them had immediately spoken. Lance just looked at Diego, and had no intention of opening his mouth.

After the two had looked at each other for a long time, Diego had finally spoken, "Actually, we have already talked about many things on the phone before."

Lance nodded. "Yes, we have talked, but we are still lacking some details."

Diego's expression was not so good-looking. He pursed his lips. "We want eighty million."

Eighty million, enough for them to complete the re-equipment.

An army of 200,000, fully armed. As long as he wasn't thinking of going against those anti-government armed forces, but to hold on to Zhuolan, it was definitely a considerable force.

However, if it was possible, he still wanted to continue to grow stronger. The stronger he was, the more his safety could be guaranteed.

Lance, hearing his offer, shook his head. "Eighty million is too much. I hear that the Jede Republic's side has also given you a lot of economic aid."

"In fact, you don't need that much money."

This was a very plain and straightforward expression. Lance's tone did not even fluctuate at all. He looked down at Diego from a high position, as if he were looking at a small character. His eyes did not take this country's president seriously.

Diego's fists were already tightly clenched. He hated Lance, he hated all of these people!

But soon, they had relaxed. "How much can you give me?"

Lance calculated for a moment. He couldn't let Diego be overfed, but he couldn't let him starve either. "Twenty million Federal Sols."

This number, plus the economic aid he had gotten from the Jede Republic, could completely support a government army of 70,000 or 80,000 using new weapons.

As for the remaining hundred or so thousand, what to do?

There were still many countries in the Yalan region that had a stockpile of standard bullets. Perhaps he could find some way?

He could accept it, but it didn't mean that he had acknowledged this price. Diego had soon launched a price offensive, and had lowered it a little.

The two sides had, over this price, talked for a considerable period of time. In the end, Lance had paid Diego 47 million Federal Sols, and had "leased" a piece of land of ten square kilometers from Zhuolan.

This included a large number of slums, and also a part of the suburbs, which contained Lance's manor, factories, and the like.

This was actually not a simple agreement. Diego had also set a series of conditions.

For example, the first clause was "No stationing of federal troops within the lease." Because this lease did not belong to the federal government, but to Lance personally, or rather, to the "Wanli Group."

Within the lease, only the security personnel of the Wanli Group were allowed, and the federal army was not allowed to be stationed.

Then there was the fourth clause, "The Wanli Group needs to maintain the security within the lease," and the sixth clause, "There needs to be a complete law within the lease," and many others like this.

On the surface, it looked like Diego was fighting for some benefits for the people within the lease, but in fact, he was also trying to use these things, to impose restrictions on the federal government.

But whether it was useful or not, no one knew.

The entire negotiation had lasted for two days. In such a big matter, this speed could be called "divine speed."

Two days later, in the Presidential Palace, Lance and Diego had signed and exchanged the "Zhuolan Loan and Leased Territory Treaty." This treaty was also, by some of the people in Rapa who had a sense of a country and a nation in their hearts, called the "Nineteen Articles of Humiliation."

Because the entire treaty had a total of nineteen articles, and every one of them seemed to be full of a huge harm to this country. Diego, in addition to the titles of "dictator," "tyrant," "intellectually disabled," had finally also gotten a new title—"traitor."

As soon as these nineteen articles had come out, the entire Yalan region and the Yalan League had been greatly shaken, and even the world had been shaken!

People simply couldn't imagine what kind of consequences this would bring. Many people were deeply uneasy about this.

However, for people like Juan, who had become completely dependent on the Wanli Group, this was a good thing.

After work in the evening, a person from the company had found him, and had brought him to Lance's office. Lance had asked to see him.

Juan was a little restrained. He didn't even know what to do with his hands and feet. In the end, he had put his two, dark, and dirty hands behind his back.

This had made him feel as if he were a toad in the mud, and Lance was a lion on the grassland, which had made him feel a trace of disgust for himself.

"I hear you've been working very hard recently," Lance said.

Lance had had someone keep an eye on the active groups in the factory, and to record their names.

Even if these people were very grateful to Lance for giving them a job, and for giving them a cheap or free house to live in, after a long time, they would still slack off, and would even breed a "you are so rich, so what's the big deal with giving me a little benefit" thought.

So here, a "sorting" was needed. Juan's performance was very good. He had been working hard, so when Lance had been reading this material, he had quickly seen this familiar name.

Juan's face had turned slightly red. "You have given me and my family a chance to live. How can I slack off?"

After all, he was a young man. He didn't know how to "restrain." His words had almost offended everyone else in the factory, because in his description, everyone else was slacking off, and only he was not.

But it didn't matter. This was what Lance liked about him.

"Want to change to a new job?"