War isn't all about firepower!
Psychological warfare is also one of the most classic "reserved items".
During World War II, Germany spread beautifully printed Christmas cards behind the Allies' lines, featuring a lush Christmas tree. However, beneath the tree lay the body of a German soldier, with "Ladies, whose husband is this?" written in German. These cards were broadcast to the wives at home, sparking their worries about the safety of their husbands, and consequently leading to war-weariness.
There are more straightforward methods too.
For instance, many drug traffickers fabricated stories about Victor being blown up here and there, causing internal panic. But in today's world of increasingly developed communication, the practicality of such tricks is diminishing...
Someone like Victor would simply throw leaflets directly into "enemy" territory—blunt, direct, and crude...
If it were normal times, the poor might not be desperate. But under specific circumstances of no water or electricity, not run? Are they waiting for death?!
But they also want to live.
By nightfall, you can't see your hand in front of you.
The aged wooden door moans, then several heads peek out, looking left and right.
"Quick! Get out!" An elderly man whispers urgently, followed by 4 adults and 2 children, a family of 7. They can't wait any longer, they have to take a chance!
"We'll go through the side of the old nursery, it's the quickest way out of the slums," the old man says, holding his granddaughter.
The family hurries along the alley…
A beam of light shines over, very bright, causing the old man's pupils to shrink.
"Mason, where are you going?!" A man jumps down from the car, walks to the front, with slanted eyes that chill those he looks at like a snake eyeing its prey.
When they see him, the old man's family turns pale, and he immediately kneels on the ground, repeatedly kowtowing, "Gary, boss Gary, have mercy, have mercy!"
This Gary is notoriously infamous in the area!
He belongs to 18th Street, in charge of smuggling, human trafficking, and other criminal activities in the area, also known as the flag planter.
The man with a cigarette in his mouth walks over and kicks the old man over, stomping on his face, "Mercy? Ha! You dare try to run and still want to live?"
He presses his foot down hard, the old man's cheekbones cracking…
The old man cries in pain, pleads, hugging his leg, with a mix of snot and tears, "Please... please kill me, let my children and my grandson go..."
It's heartbreaking to see an elderly man groveling .
His family behind him is panicked, terrified, only able to embrace and sob together.
Gary looks at the old man on the ground, bends down viciously, "Naughty ones, you think you can live? Your granddaughter is so young, I'll sell her to the United States, there are plenty of people who like that, and your daughter-in-law, I'll make her sell herself!"
"Women who've had children are desirable."
"Why... why don't you give us a way to live, why..." The old man's whole body trembles.
Seeing the despair in the old man's eyes makes Gary feel great, lifting his head and laughing loudly, "The lower class should be aware of their place!"
"Why don't you give us a way to live!!!!"
Suddenly, the old man's sharp yell breaks his words, catching Gary off guard, but before he could speak, he sees the old man grab his foot, pull hard, and throw him to the ground.
Pulling a kitchen knife from his bosom, he chops down at Gary's neck!
The knife gets stuck in the bone.
"Why? Why! Why do you sit so high above?"
"Why do you want me dead with just one word!"
"Why must you force me!!"
The old man, eyes red, chops at the head with the knife, screaming at his family behind, "Run!! Run!!"
He charges toward the car, howling.
His son, equally stunned, but coming to his senses, pulls his wife, child, and mom to run…
The gang members in the car were just sitting watching the joke, the passenger even had his feet on the dashboard, smoking, but the sudden change shocks them, as they fumble for weapons.
By the time the passenger gang member gets his feet down, the bloodied knife is already coming down, slicing with anger and discontent!
With one chop, the head is gone.
The old man wants to pull out the knife to strike at those in the back seat, but inevitably, it's too late, someone standing with a gun just sprays him!
Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat…
Bullets riddle him into a sieve.
The family running afar halts, turning back with a mournful cry.
Blood spewing from the old man's mouth, vision blurring, he strains the corners of his mouth, using all his strength to yell, "Run!!!"
The shocked gang members, seeing Gary's body on the ground, can't hide their panic, grabbing the radio in the car and start calling for backup.
"3rd District requests support!"
"Second District, shit! Those scums have gone mad, mad!!"
Calls for help from territories controlled by 18th Street filter through the radio.
The henchman shivers, pupils dilating.
The usual spot, "Hanky Pank" bar.
The bosses had already regrouped.
They discuss the follow-up issues with the Government Forces' leaflets.
"We must strictly control the people in each territory, we can't let them run, otherwise our human bomb plan is completely foiled," says Kristo of the Los Aztecs, the man with the scar, somewhat urgently pounding on the table.