67: I know, a stray dog.

America, White House.

In the Oval Office, President Ronald Reagan's expression was equally solemn.

On the table in front of him was an urgent report about the Santa Cruz incident, accompanied by several bloody on-site photos.

"Gentlemen, President Celes of Bolivia has just sent an urgent request through emergency channels."

"He hopes we can provide military assistance to help him eliminate this 'Free Army' that has suddenly appeared."

Reagan tapped the table with his finger.

"What do you all think?"

CIA Director Jackson was the first to speak, his expression showing the caution typical of an intelligence chief.

"Mr. President, I don't think we should rush to take a stand."

The Minister of Defense also nodded in agreement:

"Yes, Mr. President. According to the intelligence we currently have, the Free Army's weaponry and equipment are highly unusual."

"Their assault rifles and individual gear are even more advanced than those of the Bolivian Government Forces."

"Behind this, there must be external forces providing support."

General John Vessey, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, added:

"Before we figure out the source of their weapons and who their backers are, if we intervene rashly,"

"we might get bogged down in a quagmire. We must know whether they are aligned with The Kremlin or... somewhere else."

The shadow of the Cold War hung heavy in everyone's minds.

Any regional conflict could be a pawn in the game between the two superpowers.

Reagan pondered for a moment, then looked at the CIA Director.

"Jackson, what's your suggestion?"

"Send someone to make contact."

Jackson answered without hesitation.

"We need to speak directly with the leader of this Free Army. We need to clarify three things."

"First, what are their demands?"

"Second, who exactly are they?"

"Third, and most importantly, where did their weapons come from?"

Reagan's gaze deepened.

He finally nodded.

"Good."

"Jackson, I'm entrusting this matter to you. I want answers as soon as possible."

"Before I get those answers, keep President Celes stable."

"Yes, Mr. President."

That evening.

Bolivian National Television's evening news suddenly interrupted its broadcast with an urgent report.

The anchor, with an unprecedentedly somber tone, reported on the "terrorist attack" that occurred in Santa Cruz.

Carefully edited video footage was played.

The footage deliberately blurred the faces of the criminals but magnified the moments they were hit by bullets, with blood and flesh flying.

Coupled with tragic music and the anchor's highly inflammatory commentary,

the Free Army was portrayed as a group of inhumane executioners who indiscriminately slaughtered innocent people.

"This is not a trial, this is a massacre! This is a heinous crime committed by a terrorist organization, operating under the guise of liberation, against the people of Santa Cruz!"

For a time, public opinion was in an uproar.

Countless uninformed citizens were shocked by the bloody video and the television station's guidance, and anger and fear began to spread.

However, just one hour later.

Santa Cruz Television, under the control of the Free Army, along with several newly established radio channels, simultaneously released a strongly worded statement.

A well-dressed, capable-looking news spokesperson appeared on camera, with the Free Army's flag behind him.

"We have noticed that certain government-controlled media are shamelessly slandering and smearing the Free Army."

"Now, we will reveal the truth to all citizens."

As his voice fell, the screen began to display detailed information about the forty-five executed individuals one by one.

Each person's photo, name, nickname, and the numerous crimes they had committed were clearly listed.

Drug trafficking, organizing prostitution, murder, extortion... every file was shocking.

The news spokesperson's calm and powerful commentary echoed throughout the city:

"Those who were executed were not innocent civilians, but cancerous tumors that had plagued Santa Cruz for years! They were villains whose hands were stained with the blood of the people!"

"What the Free Army did was not a massacre, but an act of justice on behalf of heaven! It was to eliminate harm for the people!"

"We welcome any neutral media to come to Santa Cruz and personally interview the citizens who were once oppressed by these villains!"

"Listen to what they have to say!"

In the office, David was leaning back in his chair, leisurely watching the latest developments in the public opinion war.

It must be said that the Celes government's propaganda department was quite skilled; that edited video, coupled with the emotional commentary, was indeed very deceptive.

Unfortunately, they encountered David.

Playing a public opinion war in the information age? It was like teaching a fish to swim.

"Boss."

Juan pushed the door open, a strange look on his face.

"That Gomez, he's arrived in Santa Cruz."

David's gaze shifted from the screen, his eyebrows slightly raised.

"Gomez? The one from the Santa Ana Cartel?"

"Yes, that's him." Juan nodded in confirmation, "He wants to meet you through Mayor Pedro's channels."

"Heh." David chuckled, "This Pedro, his seat's barely warm and he's already causing me trouble."

"He can't help it," Juan explained, "Gomez went directly to him, and Pedro is now the mayor of Santa Cruz."

"It's not hard for Gomez to guess that our Free Army is connected to you."

David tapped his fingers lightly on the desk, a hint of impatience in his eyes.

"A disgraced drug lord wants to see me?"

"Does he deserve it?"

Juan said nothing, just stood quietly.

David, of course, knew who Gomez was.

This guy was once one of Bolivia's biggest drug lords, the leader of the Santa Ana Cartel, enjoying immense prestige.

Unfortunately, he stepped on American toes.

A few months ago, U.S. special forces, in conjunction with the Bolivian Government Forces, launched a raid on his stronghold, code-named "Decapitation."

In that battle, the Santa Ana Cartel was almost completely uprooted, with core members killed or wounded.

Gomez himself was lucky, escaping with a few close associates into the Amazon rainforest, evading pursuit.

Everyone thought he was dead.

Unexpectedly, the guy had resurfaced.

"What does he want?" David asked.

"What else could he want?" Juan shrugged, "His stronghold is gone, his crew is scattered; he's a lone Commander now."

"He heard we routed a division of the Government Army and occupied Santa Cruz, so he got an idea: he wants to buy a batch of weapons from you."

"Then he'll raise another army and become a warlord."

"Good idea, but his brain isn't working too well."

David's lips curled into a mocking smile, "Does he think this is a farmers' market? He can just come and buy whatever he wants?"

"So... Boss, what do you mean?"

"No need to meet him." David waved his hand, his tone indifferent.

"However, since he's delivered himself to our doorstep, it wouldn't be right not to collect some benefits."

He picked up the internal phone on the desk and dialed Jose's number.

"Jose."

"Boss, your orders."

"Gomez, you know him, right? The one from Santa Ana."

"I know, a stray dog." Jose's relaxed voice came from the other end of the line.

"He's currently in the Royal Hotel in Santa Cruz, in the presidential suite." David's tone turned cold.

"Go, 'invite' him over for me. I heard this guy is loaded, even if his organization was taken down."

"His hidden private assets are at least two billion US dollars."

"Figure out a way to pry the whereabouts of that money out of him."

"Understood!" Jose's voice was filled with excitement, "Mission accomplished, guaranteed!"