Chapter 2069 - 850: Squid~

March 23, 1998, Jerusalem, Temple Mount.

The sun heated the dome of the Golden Summit QZ, but the people standing in the Al-Aqsa QZ Square weren't wiping their sweat.

Three thousand Squids.

Not ordinary Squids, but rabbis.

They were ultra-Orthodox from Brooklyn, Hasidic Sect from Brussels, secret believers smuggled back from Odessa. They wore black robes, wide-brimmed hats, their beards longer than the prophets in the Bible, their eyes fixed on the same direction—the temporary stage at the entrance of Temple Mount.

A person stood on the stage.

Rabbi Joshua Ben-David.

Seventy-two years old, white beard hanging to his chest, eyes like burning coals. He wasn't the chief rabbi of the Squid government, not an advisor to the Ministry of Religious Affairs, not even part of any mainstream sect.

He was the spiritual leader of the "Holy Sanctuary Revival Association," a mysterious figure who had only appeared in extreme religious publications for the past thirty years.

But today, three thousand rabbis were listening to him.

"Brothers."

His voice wasn't loud, but the square was so quiet that you could hear the flapping wings of pigeons.

"Seventy years ago, the prophecy of Prophet Isaiah came true. We returned to the Promised Land."

Some below began to murmur prayers.

"Fifty years ago, Jerusalem returned to our hands."

The murmurs grew louder.

"But—"

He paused, his gaze sweeping over those pale faces, the fanatical faces, the tearful faces.

"The Messiah has not come."

The square was deathly silent.

"Why?"

He raised his right hand, pointing westward. Not toward the Mediterranean, not toward Europe, but further—across the ocean, toward the land known as the "New World."

"Because there, a person has appeared."

He pronounced the name, every syllable spat like nails:

"Victor!"

Someone below gasped.

"Brothers, you've heard of this person. You know what he's done. He's turned Mexico into a new Babylon, flooded it with drugs, filled it with prostitutes, turned men into women, women into men, placed secular authority above God's law."

His voice began to tremble—not with fear, but with anger.

"But what you don't know is—"

He took a deep breath.

"Three months ago, he unearthed a stone tablet in underground Mexico City."

The audience erupted.

"That stone tablet bore the prophecy from the Book of Daniel: 'The one who desecrates the Holy Land will rise from the west, and his nation will endure forever.'"

Someone began to scream.

"He—Victor—is the one who desecrates the Holy Land! His Mexico is the nation that will endure forever!"

The square exploded. Some knelt in prayer, some raised their hands and wept, others hugged each other, some fainted on the spot.

Joshua did not stop.

"Brothers, this is not politics! This is not diplomacy! This is God's War!"

He raised his hands, looking up at the sky.

"In Jehovah's name, I declare—"

Three thousand rabbis knelt simultaneously.

"Mexico is the renegade! Victor is the Anti-Christ! All who follow him, all the nations allied with him, all governments tolerating his existence—are enemies of God!"

He shouted the final phrase:

"SZ! SZ! SZ!"

Three thousand voices shouted with him.

The sound buzzed the windows of the Golden Summit QZ, stopped tourists on Mount of Olives, and in the same second triggered intelligence agencies around the world to hit the record button.

2:15 PM, Mexico City, top floor of the "Feathered Serpent Temple."

Victor was having lunch.

Not a state banquet, not a working meal, just a bowl of beef noodles.

He liked simple food like this, noodles wide, beef tender, broth rich, spicy enough.

When Bramo pushed the door open, his chopsticks had just picked up a piece of beef.

"Victor, there's an incident."

Victor didn't look up, putting the beef into his mouth.

"Speak."

Bramo handed the tablet in front of him.

The screen played a video—Temple Mount, three thousand rabbis, that white-bearded old man, and the chant "SZ."

Victor chewed the beef and watched it.

Then he put down the chopsticks.

"Who is this man?"

Bramo had the information ready.

"Joshua Ben-David, the spiritual leader of the 'Holy Sanctuary Revival Association.' Seventy-two years old. For the past thirty years, he's been a marginal figure, some influence among the ultra-Orthodox, but never in the mainstream view."

Victor wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Three thousand rabbis chanting SZ with him is called marginal?"

Bramo shook his head.

"That's the strangest part. Our people checked, and among those three thousand, at least two hundred flew in from abroad. United States, United Kingdom, France, even South Africa—all flew to Jerusalem overnight."

Victor squinted his eyes.

"Who paid for the plane tickets?"

"We're investigating. But transfer records show the funds originated in—Switzerland."

Victor stood up, walked to the window.

Outside, the traffic on Paseo de la Reforma flowed slowly, orderly.

"What's the Squid government's reaction?"

"Still silent. The Prime Minister's office only said, 'they are watching closely.'"

Victor sneered.

"Watching closely. People at my doorstep chanting SZ, and they're watching closely."

He turned around.

"Tell Bennett to investigate that old man. Look into all his calls from the past thirty years, all his bank statements, all his contacts. If there's someone behind this, I want to know who."

Bramo nodded.

"Also," Victor said, "inform the Foreign Ministry to issue a statement. Declare that the Mexican Government strongly condemns such extreme rhetoric and urges the Squid government to take measures to prevent escalation."