Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 795 - 435 The Cunning Villain’s Chessboard!
795: Chapter 435: The Cunning Villain’s Chessboard!
795 -435: The Cunning Villain’s Chessboard!
Thailand.
Bangkok.
A man’s paradise.
The city is drenched in neon lights and endless nightlife…
Even in November, you can see plenty of people in oversized shorts.
The temperature difference between day and night is minimal, coupled with the pervasive “ladyboy” culture, making this the most bustling area in the Golden Triangle.
On the streets, you can easily spot flamboyantly dressed women whose eyes light up upon seeing tourists with backpacks, rushing up to solicit business.
“300 Thai Baht, you can make love.” A woman heavily made up, of indeterminate age, grabbed a blonde tourist with closed eyes and uttered a filthy remark, making her fingers mimic the motion of thrusting.
Looking at her figure, the foreigner’s eyes sparkled, taking her in from head to toe.
He followed her into an alley, chuckling lewdly as he walked.
But twenty minutes later…
The man ran out of the alley wrapped in a urea bag, naked, shouting gibberish, “Police!
Call the police!
I got scammed, help me…”
The locals around displayed amused smirks at the scene, some even parking their motorcycles, puffing on cigarettes while watching.
Another victim of a scam…
In the Golden Triangle, or places like North America, where safety isn’t particularly ensured, who are the safest individuals?
Refer to “Lan Zhanfei” and his style in Brazil…
Wearing a motorcycle helmet, clear eyes, thick lips, flip-flops, and standing by the roadside.
To be frank…
even gangsters passing by tread carefully, worried he might suddenly go berserk and attack someone.
And to be honest, Thailand isn’t that fun.
Vietnam is better…
But really, what makes Thailand famous is actually its underground economy.
For instance…
Underground boxing rings.
In Bangkok’s Chinatown in the western part of the city.
Inside a restaurant with dual Chinese-Thai signage, the place was lively with chatter, packed with a fair number of foreigners.
On the other side, separated by wooden partitions, a different world awaited.
The environment was dim, with only one focused light illuminating the center ring where two short-haired Thai boxers were duking it out.
A surrounding crowd stood cheering.
The underground boxing ring had only one rule: you fall!
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“Fuck!
Kill him!
Goddammit, left hook, right hook!”
Georgia was yelling excitedly, loosening his suit buttons, a cigar between his teeth.
One fighter, whose face bore a black mole, suddenly leapt up and drove his knee into the opponent’s neck with an explosive strike.
Unprepared, the struck man stumbled backward in panic, falling to the ground.
Realizing trouble, the next second, a foot lashed out, hitting his skull.
With a sickening crunch, his neck twisted, and he was gone…
“Bo Qiu KO!!!”
The referee approached the dead man, blew the whistle, and pointed triumphantly at the surviving boxer, who ecstatically raised his fists, shouting loudly.
Those who lost money cursed endlessly below.
Georgia laughed heartily, pulling a wad of US dollars from his pocket without counting, tossing them onto the ring.
The bills scattered in the air.
He had bet on the winner.
He didn’t care how much he’d earn from it, because no matter how profitable this was, it couldn’t rival the money made from drug trafficking.
What Georgia savored was…
the sweet feeling of winning.
In Mexico, he had been crushed too badly…
Though heralded as the Gulf Group’s Crown Prince, the Northern region was dominated by Mexico’s Tyrant, Victor.
Hell, even Ultraman would get slapped around there.
Add in Los Zetas and their grip on power—he didn’t have any real authority, taking a severe hit to his confidence.
But once he arrived in Thailand…
I can do whatever I want, whenever I want.
As long as I’ve got money, even if I kill someone now, there’ll be someone to take the fall for me!
This is life!
“Boss, Zha Sa’s here.” Just then, his underling spoke.
Georgia smirked, “Invite him over.”
He leisurely sank into the booth, with a girl cuddling up to him and another feeding him fruit directly from her mouth.
Life was indulgent.
Thus, never underestimate the appeal of private clubs.
Why get addicted to them?
First, sunflower seeds come pre-served.
Second, fruit is fed directly to your mouth.
Third, when you pick up a cigarette, there’s someone to drink with you.
Fourth, when you lift a wine glass, there’s someone drinking beside you; after finishing, they’ll refill your glass.
Fifth, if you’re struggling to drink, someone will grab your glass and drink for you.
Sixth, if you’ve drunk too much, there’s someone who’ll ask if you want to rest your head on her lap.
Seventh, regardless of the music genre, if your singing sucks, she’ll sing with you without the slightest trace of disdain.
Eighth, when you come out of the restroom, someone will always wait by the door with tissue in hand, ready to care for you.
If you can’t drink anymore, then no more drinking.
Whatever you want to share, she’ll always listen attentively and show support.
Sure, I know she’s this nice to everyone, but only with me does it feel this personal.
Sure, propagate healthy values…
But Georgia doesn’t care, goddammit.
If I’m risking my life trafficking drugs, why can’t I chase women and live large?
Soon, his underlings brought over four or five men.
Their outfits were plain; compared to Georgia’s flamboyance, they seemed downright austere.
But each had sharp monolids and walked with a determined air.
Their expressions carried a trace of cold indifference.
True desperados!
The real deal bandits…
As they approached Georgia, his bodyguard reached out to search them.
“No need, there’s no need for that.
I’ve dealt with Zha Sa plenty of times.
Let’s treat our guests courteously.”
The bodyguard hesitated briefly but ultimately let them through.
Only then did the group of Myanmar men relax their tense expressions slightly.
The leader, Zha Sa, appeared to be in his forties or fifties, frail and diminutive in stature.
But underestimate him at your peril—it’d be the end of you.
