Early in the morning, just as the sky began to lighten, the drug lord sent someone to drive to the residence to pick us up for a tour of the drug production factory.

This confirmed that the drug lords had long been sending people to monitor the movements of the 'Chaotic Blade Association'. Had we not prepared thoroughly and been discreet, we might have been caught and tortured by the traffickers before this day arrived.

"Welcome to the sanctuary of Havana!"

The drug factory was set up in the military-controlled zone on the outskirts. Behind the towering walls were densely packed production factories, with numerous tankers full of chemical raw materials waiting for inspection at the checkpoint. Each truck had an armed drug trafficker in the passenger seat, with guard posts along the way to prevent anyone from ambushing the convoy or the drivers from stealing.

The orderliness and the strict organization here went beyond what ordinary itinerant drug criminals could manage, embodying the demeanor of a military regime.

"Truly an eye-opener for me."

Olivia was genuinely astounded. She used to be a warlord, but the Chaotic Blade Association was disorganized, constantly on the move without a fixed territory, incapable of sustaining long-term production. Everything was either stolen or bartered, and they were far inferior to the Cuban drug lords in terms of weaponry, logistics, and supplies.

"This is just what needs to be done."

The confidant of the drug lord sent to liaise with Olivia and the others was a blond man with glasses named Wally, dressed in a suit and tie. He wouldn't be out of place as an executive in a Night City company.

"We are a service-oriented industry. We need to ensure every client receives a stable supply and product quality while supporting Cuba's economic backbone. Strict management is necessary." 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

Service-oriented industry... Wally's words made the corner of the expert's mouth twitch.

It's especially ironic hearing this from a drug trafficker.

If this huge drug production factory cluster could run for more than a month elsewhere, the United Nations would be a group of freeloaders.

While Wally led the group through the employee passage in the military zone, a small incident occurred.

An armed drug trafficker found a bag of small blue crystals in a worker's shoe. He tossed the raw materials into a basket and signaled with his gun for the worker to stand aside.

The worker's face was pale, but he didn't speak and numbly stepped to the side.

Bang!

The armed drug trafficker shot and blew open the worker's head, brain matter splattering everywhere.

The worker's body crumpled to the ground, but those around seemed used to it, not even disturbed by the gunshot, calmly detouring around the scene. Other traffickers quickly came to clean up the corpse.

They were annoyed seeing the brain matter spread on the ground.

"Idiot, couldn't you shoot the chest? Think it's fun, huh?"

The armed drug trafficker just laughed, showing no emotion about the killing, as if he killed not a fellow human, but a chicken.

Even Wally only smiled and said,

"Sorry for the joke, guests. These guys always take chances. It's our failure to properly discipline them."

Workers stealing factory materials for extra cash happens everywhere.

But daring to do so here, under military-style management, implies either immense bravery or sheer desperation.

It's normal, after all. Workers' wages aren't based on the market value of what they produce but on the owners' profit margins.

Even if producing Rolls Royces, one might not afford a meal.

The drug lords in complete control of force clearly don't care if workers survive.

"You're too soft-hearted."

Olivia, displaying her own warlord coldness, said,

"In our Chaotic Blade Association, we'd skin the guy, salt him, hang him at the gate to dry as jerky as a warning."

Only the expert and Killer Demon frowned slightly but said nothing in such a situation.

"You're absolutely right."

Wally nodded slightly,

"But this is a pharmaceutical production factory. For a sterile environment, too many rotting bodies could breed bacteria affecting the final product's purity."

"Our product quality control must be rigorously scrutinized, or else people wouldn't choose our products."

"Such meticulous work ethic."

Olivia, with a bandit's flair, mused,

"If only my boys had half your skills; I wouldn't need to worry daily. How much does your boss pay you monthly? Interested in joining me? I promise a life of abundance..."

"I'm sorry, I have no plans to change jobs right now. I'll consider it if given the chance."

Wally stepped back and continued leading the group on their observation.

The factory was patrolled by armed traffickers, ages ranging from 8 to 50-60 years old. For the warlords, anyone able to hold a gun was considered a qualified soldier, their eyes filled with ferocity and a craving for money, constantly scanning everyone around them, a primitive desire more akin to beasts than even the Chaotic Blade Association.

Inside, the factory was in much better condition. Workers in full orange protective suits bustled around, transporting solvents and chemicals from other factories into containers for mixing, heating, and initiating reactions.

Then cooling, crystallizing, filtering, leaving behind large chunks of dough, eventually dried into powder.

This powder is the raw material of their drugs.

Just need to add the final excipients according to the formula, molding into pills, sprays, or capsules, and the production is complete.