As a big drug lord, Guzman didn't even know how many houses he had in Mexico, just as some people believed Pablo's net worth was only 3 billion US dollars.
How could that be possible!
Mainly because no one knew how much money he had when his properties were raided.
Anyway, anywhere in the world, you could buy whatever you wanted, just like that.
Money can solve 99% of problems.
In a seaside house in Manzanillo.
As soon as Guzman returned, he called in his trusted followers.
He lit a cigarette for himself, elegantly exhaled a puff of smoke, his gaze fixated on the distant beach filled with numerous bikini-clad beauties; Guzman, being a lecher, had his eyes locked on a woman.
Her skin was a shade of wheat, curvy with a pronounced front and back, wearing sunglasses and playing volleyball. That bounce... tsk tsk tsk, NMD, definitely not silicone.
Suddenly, Guzman felt a reaction, a possessive desire appeared in his eyes as he took a drag from his cigarette, watching intently.
It was at that moment his trusted underlings walked in.
All were well-known figures in the underworld!
"Boss!" everyone shouted in unison.
Guzman reluctantly pulled his gaze away and turned his head to look at them, "Pablo's weapons and ammunition you've all seen, distribute them according to the plan, with priority given to Los Zetas."
During the battle at the "Emmisi Steel Factory", Guzman's gunman squad, having spent a fortune to build up "Los Zetas", lost over 600 members, completely decimated; under the thermobaric bombs, not even bones remained.
They'll be careful in their next lives.
But with money, there are people who will work for you. Guzman, through a "facilitator" in Asia, had contacted quite a few Southeast Asian retired soldiers.
There was a group of people transporting "manpower" towards Africa, Europe, and the Latin American region, like transporting "piglets" over a hundred years ago, except previously it was the sale of labor, and now it was combat power.
The reputation was good.
Those people were also more ruthless, recognized only money not people, and they were cheap. The Vietnamese only needed 300 US dollars a month, really had not seen the world, simply rolled over the Mexican drug traffickers.
Guzman first wanted 600 people to see how they performed.
"What's the response from El Mencho?"
"He declined our recruitment, and... he even cut off the ears of the people we sent, warning us that Jalisco State is their territory. If we want to go in, we must pay them a toll!" his confidant reported with an ugly expression.
Who was that small fry from somewhere!
They don't listen to Sinaloa's orders?
But the other party really had some clout; taking advantage of the battle between Guzman and Victor, El Mencho advanced from the east and had already taken half of Guerrero State's land, and half of Zacatecas State in the north-central part as well.
Almost reaching Guzman's base camp!
That, of course, was unacceptable.
"If he doesn't agree? Then kill him! Test out those Vietnamese people's quality," Guzman said directly.
He squinted, "Leak his information to Victor's Anti-Drug Force, they will surely find a way to kill him. They don't want to see another big drug trafficker in Mexico."
Mexico right now... how to put it.
A time of contending warlords, the situation is ever-changing!
The strong ones had already joined the North American Drug Syndicate; slightly less powerful ones like El Mencho and the Michoacán Family also occupy a state's territory; hundreds of other assorted small-time drug traffickers too.
Excluding Victor's territory, other places saw murder rates rise several points. Just in the past 7 months, there were 27,891 cases of homicide nationwide, including 1,212 people missing, with over 1,800 large-scale gunfights (with 10 or more people)!
Mexico really is entering a state of disorder.
The military and police can't control it.
Victor is also intentionally making the situation more chaotic. If things aren't chaotic, how can his prowess be shown?
Only in moments of utter despair will the peace that arrives be cherished by people.
Victor's thoughts are very meticulous too.
When Mexico cries out for my name.
Guzman, with one hand in his pocket, looked down at the woman who had tired from playing volleyball and said to his confidants, "Arrange a meeting with that lady for me; I want to watch tomorrow's sunrise with her."
The subordinate glanced at her and nodded.
In Mexico, no one can refuse Sinaloa!
Even if you're the wife of an official, Guzman could see you if he desired. During the production of the American TV series "Drug Lord", the producer Portal was murdered, his car riddled with bullet holes.
According to insiders.
Portal wanted to film the scenes of Guzman's party, and the victim was a congressman's wife, which caused discontent within the Sinaloa Group, resulting in his death.
Guzman's gaze turned dark; he took out a piece of chocolate and stuffed it into his mouth.
"Victor Carlos Vieri!"
Tijuana International Airport.
Victor was going to board a private plane to New York.
It was a Boeing 767-33A (ER), identical to the one used later by Chelsea's owner, Abu.
Originally it could seat 350 people, but after modifications, it could carry 35 passengers, decorated very luxuriously. The plane was valued at 90 million British pounds, and the renovations were said to have cost over 10 million US dollars.
The "inheritance" of the Tijuana Cartel's Benjamin brothers.
Really, after their death, Victor feasted.
He was accompanied by Casare, the Deputy Commander of the Air Police Force, Damon Hesfu Zola, along with some followers and bodyguards. Sometimes, if someone could carry a black briefcase by his side, that's when you really saw the style.