Working as a police officer in Mexico

Mom touched her head and first picked some dishes for the father-in-law beside her.

"Mr. Brutus."

Victor stood up with a glass of wine, and Belsaria beside him also stood up and walked towards Grandpa Reva at the same table.

The old man was suddenly nervous and hurried to stand up.

"Thank you for giving birth to a heroic son for Mexico. Freddy is brave; he is a hero of the people and a warrior of Mexico. Come, I toast to you."

Victor drained his glass in one gulp.

The old man's hands trembled, and his eyes reddened, "General..."

"Just call me Victor."

"That you remember my son, that's his glory..."

Victor shook his head, "He is a hero, destined to be remembered. It's not just me who must remember; the entire nation must remember. Congress has already passed a bill to inscribe the martyrs' names on the local monuments and write them into history, for students and government officials to commemorate them and learn from their patriotism each year."

The tears couldn't be held back any longer, "I'm almost 70 this year. My parents died under the dictatorship of Porfirio Díaz. I grew up begging for food; I've experienced war; I've seen a cannibalistic government and unreasonable drug traffickers, but... but you are the first to put the people in your heart, General!"

In ancient world history, kings, lords, and generals were praised for thousands of years, but finally, in 1949, there came a "Long live the people!"

And for Mexico, Victor is the first.

"His life was worth it, Freddy's life was worth it!" The old man downed his glass of red wine.

Victor comforted him with a few more words, then moved with Belsaria to the next table. He could call out the name of every martyr at each table, even embracing a decorated soldier and drinking with him as if they were old comrades.

Belsaria watched quietly.

She realized that her "fiancé" remembered everyone's name, where they sacrificed their lives, why they died, and where they were buried, all without exception.

The way those families looked at him...

It was like they were gazing at a belief!

He drank with each person in one gulp, having consumed a lot. By the time the banquet ended, he was dizzy with drunkenness, and it was Casare and others who helped support him upstairs. As soon as he hit the bed, he started snoring.

Belsaria noticed a thick roster with corresponding photos at the bedside.

"The boss has been staying up late recently, looking at these lists every day. He wants to memorize each name. He says farmers are simple; if you give them enough respect, they will entrust you with their children and hope."

Casare leaned in closer, "He sleeps just over two hours a day. He's so exhausted."

There's no such thing as exceptional talent, just hard work in the shadows.

Belsaria was no vase; she understood Victor's purpose. To put it bluntly, if you asked those wounded soldiers in the banquet hall to carry bombs to their deaths, they would have no regrets.

She nodded, turned her head, and, looking at the tired Kennedy and others, gently said, "You all go rest; I'll take care of him."

The few exchanged looks and gently nodded.

Belsaria brought hot water, wiped his face, and kissed him on the cheek, "Goodnight."

She rose to turn off the light and slowly shut the door.

...

July 2nd.

Clear skies!

On "Mexico Avenue" outside the National Palace, the viewing stands were packed, while on the other side in the Journalist District, it was a sea of camera lenses.

Today, dozens of countries will be broadcasting live.

Everywhere security personnel in suits and with earpieces and armed soldiers vigilantly watched the surroundings.

When news spread that on July 2nd, Mexico would hold a victory celebration,

many death threats were received!

Some left messages online about bombing Victor, others about teaching Mexico a lesson.

In three days, more than 200 people who illegally entered Mexico City, and quite a few trolls criticizing Victor, were arrested.

The funniest was a Mossad agent who, upon leaving the airport and getting into a taxi, asked, "How long is Mexico Avenue?"

Even more coincidentally, the driver was an outside member of the Thirteen Protectors.

Hmm...

Now in Mexico City, even a street vendor might be an intelligence officer.

When he asked that, the driver quickly smartened up. You just got in the car, and you ask about the length of a road? Are you planning to plant a bomb? Then he took him straight to the local police station.

The agent tried to argue, but after three baton hits, he confessed everything.

Of course, this illustrated the "external forces" surrounding the "celebration."

9 a.m.!

President Qua Wuke Mot proclaimed: The celebration begins!

146-gun salute, signifying the end, starting today, of the humiliation since 1846!

"Now approaching us are the families of martyrs who sacrificed their lives for Mexico's war on drugs and the US-Mexico War, carrying blessings for a better nation. We cannot forget them. History will remember their contributions, and Mexico will remember their sacrifices!"

"Martyrs, you are immortal!"

As the announcer's voice fell,

four cars drove side by side, with over 20 rows, totaling more than 80 open-top cars approaching. The people inside held up photos of the martyrs, and some wore the martyrs' medals.

Tens of thousands in the audience erupted in intense cheers.

The sound echoed to the skies!

"Dad, do you see this? Look, this is Mexico City, the one you've helped build." Ruiwa held a photo of a man with a full beard and steely eyes who smiled broadly.

Beside him, the grandfather wore a medal of honor, vigorously waving the Mexican flag in his hands.

Listening to the cheers all around, a proud look crept onto his face.

The motorcade slowly advanced along Mexico Avenue, but when the formation at the rear appeared, everyone was startled.

"War is never beautiful, but defending national territory and fighting crime is noble. In war, brave heroes emerged who are worthy of Mexico and the people!"

Someone in the journalist crowd stood up, incredulous at the scene before them.

"My God..."

"OMG!!!"

They saw the approaching formation was made up of disabled persons, some without hands, some without feet, using crutches, but the light in their eyes was intimidating.

They...

were like warriors who would charge forward even with broken legs.

"The true warrior dares to face injustice, sacrificing their youth. They are warriors, living history, and even more, the youth of Mexico!"

Victor stepped from the viewing platform and raised his hand in salute!

The wounded soldiers below let out loud roars.

Many felt a tremor in their hearts.

They seemed to be roaring to the world, issuing victory against past injustices!

"The Mexican Army is no longer just an ordinary army; he has instilled in them a soul." On the observation deck, Cuba Field also felt the blood boiling.

Everyone hails from military backgrounds.

Everyone understood that even as warfare methods change, people and morale are the most important.

Steely will triumphs over steel!

"Look over there," said an East University representative, raising his head slightly and smiling, "The faces of the Europe and America representatives don't look too good."

Field looked over, and sure enough, many representatives from invited Western countries wore heavy expressions.

"Victor just wants to show them, to let them know that now all the troops and personnel nationwide are under his will. Even if they have ideas, they can only shut their mouths and comply."

Victor used them to intimidate domestic schemers and external restless factors, telling them, 'I'm here, so keep quiet.'

This celebration is destined to be written into history!

"The Immortal Legion!"

...