CHAPTER 499: CHAPTER 497 SHADOW LEGION DISPATCHES!!_1

On the east side of Mexican Constitution Square, the National Palace was bathed in soft light. Above the main entrance hung Dolores’s Bell, adding a rich historical atmosphere to the palace.

Inside, an extremely luxurious banquet was underway. Looking at the opulence, one would never guess that slums were a common sight in this country. Only "sheer extravagance" could describe the scene.

Mountains of champagne, countless delicacies, and people in lavish attire.

Their every word and gesture exuded an air of high-society elegance.

"Mr. President, under your governance, the country has become increasingly prosperous. Allow me to toast you first," said one of the guests.

"Haha."

The gray-haired man offered a faint smile and was about to raise his glass in response when someone suddenly emerged from his shadow on the ground.

The person was filthy, covered in blood, yet no wounds were visible. He stood there, a stark contrast to the luxurious and elegant surroundings.

Like a wild man from a mountaintop stepping into a modern metropolis.

Yet, no one present dared to underestimate him.

Behind him stood an otherworldly creature that defied all common logic.

"Shadow Soldiers of the Different World," whispered Pioneer Group’s general manager in Mexico.

Everyone attending the banquet was from Mexico’s highest echelons.

They were either representatives of major American corporations in Mexico or local compradors with direct ties to the United States.

They were all influential figures in Mexico’s various industries.

While some secrets remained hidden, it was public knowledge in the United States that the Shadow Clan feared bright light and preferred to emerge from shadows.

"Quick, protect the President!"

It was unclear who reacted first, but after a loud shout, the Guards burst into the lavish banquet hall.

A few panicked voices arose but were quickly stifled as the women, under the surrounding gazes, swallowed their screams.

The onlookers quickly averted their gazes.

They were members of high society; they couldn’t afford to scream and shout like rabble in a marketplace at the first sign of danger.

The upper class had to maintain its elegance and composure.

The National Palace Guards were equipped with flashbangs and high-intensity flashlights.

After all, compared to Dio, an Angel Envoy suspected of owning a country posed a far greater threat to other nations.

Nearly all world leaders had promptly equipped themselves with appropriate security details to ensure their safety.

Seeing his Guards assembled, President Mance finally regained his composure; he had nearly suffered a heart attack from fright just moments before.

He turned aside. Striving for an authoritative tone, he asked, "What is your business here?"

Nied surveyed the scene before him. He thought of the people in the slums, of the president’s self-righteousness before the media, and of the nation’s chaos.

He made his decision.

How can these vermin be allowed to control the country’s future?!

Nied straightened his back and said solemnly, "Mr. President, please step aside for me. I will cooperate with the Emperor of the Shadow Clan and take over this country."

Mance’s face turned ashen. "Do you realize what nonsense you’re spouting?" he asked in a low voice.

"Of course, I do!"

Nied suddenly raised his voice, his fervent eyes fixed on Mance. "Please entrust the governance of this country to me.

If you doubt me, just wait for the news. Tonight, the Emperor will make all the corporations disappear."

Although Nied harbored suspicions about the Emperor’s motives for helping him, in the current situation, he could only borrow that power to seize this position and then consider his next moves.

If the Emperor’s intentions were truly benign, Nied was prepared to reciprocate with goodwill.

If they were malicious, he would rather die than become a traitor who sold out his country.

"If he fails, I am willing to commit suicide on the spot!"

Nied staked his life on it.

Mance’s eyes filled with stunned disbelief. He didn’t order an arrest but instead raised his hand. "Send someone immediately to check on Amherst and the others! If—"

Before he could finish, the shadows on the ground suddenly bulged like pustules, forming semicircles before disgorging uniformed generals.

"What’s going on here?"

The generals looked utterly bewildered.

Nied shouted, "Alright! Everyone wait here for news. We will soon witness the Emperor’s thunderous display of power!"

The generals glanced at Mance, then at their surroundings, and all chose to remain silent.

Even though Nied looked for all the world like a tortured prisoner.

But power doesn’t stem from attire; the entity backing him was reason enough for their patience.

Some also made calls to inform the United States.

「...」

One hundred thousand Shadow Soldiers were very busy.

Aozawa, however, was quite idle. He remained in the palace, unhurriedly healing Nied’s family members and sending them home to bathe and change.

As for those who now bore the injuries that Nied’s family had endured, they lay on the ground, wailing in agony.

Aozawa didn’t rush to deal with them.

He was a man of his word. He had said he would send all those people away, and he intended for them to meet their end neatly and in an orderly fashion.

Considering the upcoming scene was highly unsuitable for children, he decided on the Chihuahua Desert in northern Mexico as the location.

Aozawa returned to his throne and sat down. He gazed down from his lofty position at the now-empty palace, awaiting the Shadow Soldiers’ return after transporting their cargo to the desert.

Amherst gradually grew accustomed to the pain wracking his body. After all, he wasn’t just anyone; he was the legendary founder of a major cartel.

It was he who had pioneered a new model in this industry, transitioning from a farm-based group with social foundations to one that now used military tactics for slaughter, employing economists and lawyers to shield their operations.

From a semi-literate peasant, he had risen to become the leader of the world’s largest criminal syndicate, with operations in forty-eight countries.

His life was one of legend and danger; there was nothing he believed he couldn’t overcome.

It was like his youth, when the godfather he served was arrested and imprisoned by the military, and their vast organization faced imminent collapse.

Back then, no one else in the gang knew what to do. Only he had taken the initiative, seizing a lucrative trafficking route from Mexico to the United States. That route became his foundation, allowing him to amass a fortune and climb step by step to the very top.

He believed that crisis and opportunity always coexisted; it all depended on one’s ability to seize the latter.

What exactly did the one on the throne want to do?

A thought flashed through Amherst’s mind: If I don’t understand what he wants, I’ll never be able to persuade him.

He began to speak slowly. In his current physical state, the mere act of speaking sent waves of pain through his body.

Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, but Amherst persisted. Noticing he wasn’t being silenced or rebuked, he continued, "Forgive my candor.

In terms of willpower and methods, I am undoubtedly more worthy of Your Grace’s consideration than Nied."

As he spoke, pride returned to Amherst’s tone; he hadn’t lost the fervent ambition of his early days. "If you choose me as your servant, I guarantee I can plunder the world’s wealth for you! Ha... ha..."

He gasped, his chest heaving like a broken bellows.

The pain had not broken him.

Amherst held his head high, his eyes wide, the raw ambition blazing within them attempting to ignite a response from the sovereign on the throne.

Aozawa merely gazed down at him with indifference, saying nothing.

"I won’t disappoint you. I’ve never let anyone down in my life!"

Amherst continued to plead fervently, desperate for this being’s intervention, desperate to preserve his immense power.

Aozawa remained unmoved by his pleas, his thoughts already drifting to how he would counsel Shouko the next day.

「...」

In the Chihuahua Desert, a full moon hung high in the sky. The desert wind, no longer scorching as it was by day, carried a refreshing coolness.

Under the moonlight, the dunes’ silhouettes undulated gently, like waves in a dream.

The usually desolate desert was now suddenly bustling, filled with a cacophony of human voices.

Many had no idea why they were there. They only knew that their captors wore armor, were darker than an African man in the night, and had eyes that glowed red.

Furthermore, these strange beings were continuously transporting more people to this location.

Members of various cartels encountered one another, many of whom harbored old grudges.

Ordinarily, a firefight would have erupted to see who would be left standing.

But amidst this bizarre event, an unspoken understanding settled over everyone.

No one dared to initiate hostilities. Instead, the leaders of the various cartels convened to discuss the situation.

Surprisingly, at such a significant gathering, the leader of Mexico’s largest cartel, the Taro Group, was absent.

Only their second-in-command, Daco, was there to negotiate with the others.

"Those creatures must be the ’Monsters from the Different World’ reported out of New York—all black, with only a pair of red eyes."

"Damn it! It’s not just New York anymore; now they’re in Mexico too?"

"I heard those monsters are only afraid of bright light."

"FARK! Then our guns are useless!"

"Why have they gathered us all here?"

Daco couldn’t understand. Surely these otherworldly beings aren’t trying to unify Mexico’s underworld? Even if that’s their goal, why gather so many of us?

This inexplicable situation filled him with a growing sense of dread. To make matters worse, Amherst’s satellite phone wasn’t being answered!

What in the world is that guy doing?!

"Regardless, we need to keep our men in check for now. Don’t let them start anything."

"Agreed."

Time ticked by.

The Chihuahua Desert now held a boundless sea of humanity. Over three hundred drug cartels were gathered there, a combined force of nearly four hundred thousand.

Meanwhile, the one hundred thousand Shadow Soldiers completed their task and returned to the palace in unison.

They stood there in silence, thousands of crimson eyes upturned, awaiting their Emperor’s command.

By now, Amherst could barely make a sound. He lay prostrate on the ground, as wretched as a dying cur.

Yet his mouth still moved, trying to persuade Aozawa in a voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz.

His will to survive was remarkably tenacious.

Aozawa, paying him no heed, rose and swept his hand wide. "Shadow Legion! March forth!"