The fruit knife plunged in at a 30° angle!
Those who have killed know not to insert it flatly, which can easily tear apart the neck. A diagonal angle cuts through all the veins and arteries inside.
With a kick of the legs, Popovich's eyeballs bulged out.
"Take deep breaths, trust me, feeling dizzy is normal," Miley whispered, her grip not loosening at all, regardless of the nails scratching at her arm!
Popovich stopped struggling.
Miley then released her hold, pulled out the folding knife, and stabbed in again!
Really, goddamnit, she was very professional!
After pulling out the knife again, she wiped it on a paper from the table, with blood everywhere on the floor.
She picked up some chocolate from the table, put it into her mouth, straightened her suit in front of the mirror, and then pulled up the corners of her mouth with her hands.
It wasn't until noon, when it was time for lunch, that the trembling secretary came with food, knocked on the door with no response, and cautiously pushed the door open.
She screamed at the sight before her.
Popovich was sitting in the chair, his mouth half-open, his eyes filled with bloodshot and bulging, his face a pallid color.
The President had been killed!
The news immediately shook the entire National Palace and then spread out.
At this time, Jeff Bennett stood at the doorstep of a church in Mexico City. He was bearded, his head adorned with braids, holding grains of corn. After pigeons flew over and pecked them away, he clapped his hands and walked across the street to a public phone booth.
He dialed a string of numbers.
"The evil dragon has been slain!"
He left the phone booth after speaking and saw a thinly-dressed little girl begging. He pulled out a 100 US Dollar bill and put it in her bowl amid her astonished gaze.
He left nonchalantly.
"Breaking news! President Popovich was found dead inside the National Palace!"
This message was first broadcast by the American BBC and instantly spread throughout the entire country, radiating across North America.
The White House was stunned.
A group of the old guard at Buckingham Palace was speechless.
Even the Southern drug trafficker regimes were unusually quiet.
As if the whole world had fallen silent.
Indeed, the joys and sorrows of life are different for everyone.
America, Spain, and England began discussing the selection of a new leader and, according to rumors, Spain had dispatched all of its remaining 4,300 members of the Foreign Legion to the troops.
Of course, Spain's Ministry of Foreign Affairs soon responded, "No, we haven't sent troops to North America at any point, nothing to do with the government."
It's like being a turtle retracting into its shell.
But indeed, damn it, those 600 soldiers were now out of contact, the Popovich Government claimed they were missing...
Now, they've met with disaster themselves.
No need to say more, they must have been completely annihilated!
The Marine Division No.1 was now brazenly pushing into Tamaulipas State, with no formal military inside, liberation was only a matter of time!
Victor was delighted, appearing on the "Tijuana Time" channel in full military attire during the evening, his presence commanding.
"A pseudo-government that opposes the people's choice has only one path to death!"
"I urge the soldiers once again, please do not waste your lives. Your lives should be dedicated to the country and the nation, not fighting for drug traffickers. I also warn those who are beyond hope, Popovich's fate today is your fate tomorrow!"
After the program, Casare sent prepared thumbs-up and compliments.
Everyone might be late, but not him.
"Boss, there are reporters that wish to interview you tomorrow..."
"Reject interviews with reporters from Europe and America..."
"Even Miss Belsaria Ramsfield?" Casare asked with a smile.
Victor pondered for a moment, "There's always an exception, is it her?"
"No, those from the 'Washington Post' are different people."
"Have them come the day after tomorrow; tomorrow I am going to visit my soldiers at the front!"
Casare struggled to keep up with Victor's pace. It's tough with short legs. He hustled and said, "Boss, can't we have some celebrity women do the comforting?"
Victor stopped and looked at him seriously.
"Casare, our hard work is so that our women don't have to dance for others. Besides, sending women for comfort, how would we be any different from the South Korean military?"
Victor paused, not hiding his mockery of South Korea, "Only those without faith in Xiba need women to sway their hips to appease them. In our troops, the people, loyalty, and faith are the best comforts!"
"I don't want to leave nothing for Mexico in a hundred years. What I want to leave behind is a loyal army and a peaceful environment."
Casare looked serious, "I understand, boss."
"Let capitalist customs go to hell!" Victor said with a pat on his shoulder and a smile.
"Then I'll arrange it. Which troop will you visit?"
"The 3rd Division. Wherever my soldiers are, that's where I'll go!"
The world's eyes were fixed on Mexico.
After the black market opened, the odds of the Central pseudo-government winning plummeted!
Likewise, the Wall Street stock market opened and was halted due to an immediate drop.
Including agricultural stocks and tech stocks, the market knew, once Victor really took residence in Mexico, these places would be Mexico's "contested" targets, which would severely impact U.S. domestic agriculture.