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The previous Saint Denis police officers were all widely known as lackeys of the rich, their hands constantly extended for bribes. And who, pray tell, could truly be considered the lackeys of the rich?

To put it bluntly, they were all nothing more than hooligans and ruffians, barely distinguishable from the criminals they were meant to apprehend! So, it was perfectly normal for the previous Saint Denis police officers to possess the same coarse, unrefined temperament as these ruffians, openly eating, drinking, and taking things for free in his small tavern. In fact, they were even more detestable than the common thugs. Because they wore a uniform, they not only dared not use tough, effective methods against ruffians themselves, but ordinary citizens couldn't even call the police on them, for they were the police. (The game, arguably, overly beautifies American police officers of this era. In reality, at this time, they didn't genuinely care about murder and robbery, especially not in the squalid slums, let alone being fearless of death; they were often corrupt and indifferent.)

To describe it concisely, Signor Bronte, the infamous mafia boss, was Mayor Henry Lemieux's ultimate patron, the hand that fed him. And at the same time, Bronte himself openly bribed the Saint Denis police chief and countless other officials. So, what good, what integrity, could possibly be found in the various institutions of Saint Denis, intertwined as they were with such corruption?

But now, Pauli observed with a growing sense of bewilderment, the police officers standing guard at both ends of the street were completely, strikingly different!

These six police officers exuded a stern, almost military, and serious aura. Although their faces were unsmiling, fixed in professional solemnity, they no longer had that characteristic ruffian-like swagger or casual indifference. Especially with them holding their guns at attention, guarding the intersection with unwavering vigilance, damn it, it wasn't even six in the morning yet, and these disciplined figures were already diligently on duty, their stances rigid. Their attitude and posture looked righteous, reliable, almost… heroic!

"Oh, d*mn it, I'm actually starting to think the Saint Denis police officers are reliable. Oh my God, am I going insane?" Pauli muttered to himself, shaking his head slightly, a blush of shame rising on his weathered face for harboring such a blasphemous thought.

Damn it, he internally scoffed, trying to dismiss the unsettling feeling. He didn't believe that these damned things would actually change their ingrained habits. He was afraid that they would soon come into his tavern, swagger in, get drunk without paying, and then claim it was their right. Their presence here now, he reasoned, was probably just for show, a temporary display of order because some important, influential person had arrived, someone they needed to impress.

Sure enough, before Pauli could even turn to re-enter his tavern, he saw the three police officers guarding the left intersection of the street suddenly snap to attention, their bodies straightening with a synchronized, almost robotic precision.

"Good day, Mr. Morgan! Good day, Mr. Callander!" A chorus of crisp, respectful greetings echoed through the still-damp street, cutting through the morning quiet. The sudden, synchronized salute attracted the curious attention of several workers who had just left their homes, their lunches packed, to start their early shifts, their heads turning in surprise.

They saw two men, also impeccably dressed in police uniforms, riding tall, powerful horses as they just turned the corner, their hooves splashing lightly in the puddles, and rode with an air of authority towards this street.

"Hello, gentlemen! You've worked hard." Arthur called out, his voice clear and surprisingly amiable, a faint smile on his lips as he guided his horse forward. He offered a slight nod. "Perhaps you can have a couple of drinks after your shift. Dutch has already said that the police station now offers unlimited tobacco and alcohol." He finished with a wink.

"It's no hardship, Mr. Morgan. Ensuring the safety of Saint Denis's citizens is our duty!" one of the police officers responded, his chest puffed out slightly, his voice firm and sincere, a new pride evident in his tone.

Damn it, Pauli thought, a cynical sneer twisting his lips as he watched Arthur and Mac ride their tall horses with an air of confident proprietorship through the streets of Saint Denis, now so loyal to them. Arthur, that legendary skunk, always has his honor maxed out outside, presenting a picture of noble integrity, but only in his own gang does he have terrible halitosis, his true, coarse nature revealed!

"See, I knew it. They're going to come over again for free food and drinks," Pauli grumbled under his breath, shaking his head. "Oh, dmn it, unlimited alcohol and tobacco. These dmned police officers aren't going to get freebies from me, are they?" He eyed the passing officers with deep trepidation, a suspicious frown on his face. He then scurried back into his tavern, his movements agitated, quickly tidying the bottles on his liquor cabinet, checking their caps, hiding the more expensive ones.

He was a little scared, a knot of apprehension tightening in his stomach.

But fortunately, as the rhythmic sound of horses' hooves slowly passed, fading into the distance, Pauli's inner worries finally eased with a slow, drawn-out sigh of relief. He slumped against the counter.

Just then, a familiar figure, a regular customer of his tavern, a burly lumberjack named Martin, pushed open the tavern door with a creak and hurried in, his boots squelching on the wet floor.

"Oh, Martin, you're really early today." Pauli, a little surprised by his friend's uncharacteristic promptness, quickly picked up a bottle of cheap wine from the shelf, poured a generous glass, and placed it on the bar, sliding it across. "I remember you start work at six in the morning, right?"

Martin had indeed arrived exceptionally early today, at precisely 5:35 AM, just barely as dawn's first light began to paint the sky.

"Hey, Pauli, no choice." Martin grinned, wiping rain from his face with the back of his hand. He leaned conspiratorially over the counter, his voice buzzing with excitement. "I just received a notice. Van der Linde, oh no, Mayor Henry Lemieux has issued a document. They're going to give us a raise, and this month's increase must be included. My boss just sent someone to inform me. D*mn it, I heard they're going to make it up to eighteen dollars a month for me!" He slapped the counter lightly, his eyes wide with disbelief and joy.

Martin was practically bursting with happiness, his face alight with excitement as he eagerly shared the incredibly good news with Pauli.

As a lumberjack, he had no specialized technical skills, and his wages were notoriously low, only fifty cents a day for working from dawn to dusk, back-breaking labor for meager pay.

Hey, he thought, almost dizzy with the implications, now his salary has increased by three dollars a month, a princely sum! Which undoubtedly means his living standard this month can rise a significant notch! He could almost taste the better food, the small luxuries.

"Oh, sh*t! What name did you just say?" Pauli exclaimed, his eyes widening in profound surprise, a sudden, sharp intake of breath. He abruptly put down the rag he was using to wipe the table, his hand hovering in mid-air, and leaned closer, asking anxiously, his voice a strained whisper.

"Mayor Henry Lemieux!" Martin replied, puzzled by Pauli's sudden intensity, his brow furrowing slightly.

"No, no, no, not that one, the previous one, damn it, I just heard it, you must have shouted that name! Mr. Dutch Van der Linde, right? Damn it, I definitely heard it! You just said the name of my God, Mr. Dutch Van der Linde!" Pauli pressed, his voice rising in anxious excitement, grabbing Martin's arm with a desperate, crushing grip. His little heart suddenly tightened, a nervous flutter.

Damn it, he thought, a sense of vindication mixed with awe, Mr. Dutch Van der Linde, that name has gone absolutely viral among their impoverished class recently, truly viral, a whispered legend, a symbol of hope!

The first batch of workers Mr. Van der Linde recruited were female workers from Saint Denis, desperate for work. Over the past few months, the female workers who returned to visit their families had completely transformed. They weren't necessarily wearing gold and silver, not bedecked in flashy jewelry, but at the very least, they were well-built, their bodies no longer gaunt, their faces rosy-faced with health, dressed appropriately, in clean, respectable clothes. And even in their every gesture, their casual movements, they didn't seem to care about trivial amounts like ten or twenty dollars! They had an air of prosperity.

As the saying goes, returning home wealthy is like walking in brocade at night, a silent, powerful display of success. Female workers are also human, and when their lives demonstrably improve, they naturally like to talk more, to share their good fortune. Through their enthusiastic dissemination, the wonderful, almost mythical, lives of the Hope Ranch workers and the name of the enigmatic Mr. Dutch Van der Linde spread like wildfire among the lower classes of Saint Denis, a whispered promise of a better future.

And the subsequent Valentine trade team and Rhodes trade team, with their goods and stories, made the name of Mr. Dutch Van der Linde spread with unparalleled momentum in all aspects of Saint Denis, reaching every ear, every corner!

Even though he only opened two seemingly innocuous clothing stores in Saint Denis, Mr. Van der Linde was already deeply revered and highly respected within Saint Denis, his influence far exceeding his visible businesses!

And Pauli's idol, his personal hero, was none other than Mr. Dutch Van der Linde himself. So when he heard the name Van der Linde just now, even a mere whisper, he reacted almost immediately, his heart leaping.

With Pauli gripping his arm so tightly, Martin had no choice but to concede, wincing slightly. "Alright, Pauli, I'll tell you, I'll tell you." He lowered his voice, leaning in close. "But don't tell anyone else! Mr. Van der Linde asked for it to be kept secret. If it gets out, it won't be good for Mr. Van der Linde. I'm only telling you this because I know you respect Mr. Van der Linde the most!"

"Sure! I'll keep it a secret! Hurry up and tell me." Pauli nodded repeatedly, his head bobbing frantically, urging him on, his eyes wide with anticipation.

"Alright." Martin glanced left and right, his eyes darting furtively, as if checking for invisible eavesdroppers, then whispered, his voice barely audible, "I'm telling you, Saint Denis now is probably under the complete control of Mr. Van der Linde! My cousin told me, he was a porter at the train station last night and personally saw Mr. Van der Linde bring ten thousand soldiers off the train. Then they entered Saint Denis in the heavy rain and were kept there until midnight before being released. And when I came over just now," he lowered his voice even further, a tone of hushed awe, "I saw with my own eyes that all the streets of Saint Denis were completely guarded by police officers. Damn it, do you think Saint Denis has so many police officers? And those dmned rich areas are even more strictly controlled, so besides Mr. Van der Linde controlling Saint Denis, I can't think of any other possibility! It's him, Pauli, it has to be him!"

Martin leaned back, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "And they always say that as soon as Mr. Van der Linde arrives, it means good things are coming. Now, look, haven't good things come? Our wages have increased overnight! And I also heard that Mr. Van der Linde is going to subsidize food, so our food expenses will be much lower in the future!" He spread his hands, a gesture of undeniable triumph.

"Really? Oh, f*ck! Good, good, good, Mr. Van der Linde, oh, God, I finally waited for Mr. Van der Linde to come!" Listening to Martin's breathless narration, Pauli excitedly grabbed Martin's hands with both of his, his grip almost painful, his face contorted into a radiant, twisted knot of pure joy, a grotesque mask of elation.

Damn it, excited, truly excited! His heart hammered in his chest.

"Of course, Pauli! Besides Mr. Van der Linde, who else would be so good to us?" Martin confirmed, a genuine smile on his face. He picked up his small glass of wine, drained it in one gulp, then turned and prepared to leave, a spring in his step. "Alright, Pauli, I won't talk to you anymore for now. We'll talk more when I get back tonight!"

"Good, good, good! Oh, by the way, Martin, remember to hold onto your money." Pauli called out from behind the counter, inexplicably excited, his heart soaring. Although the benefits hadn't reached him directly yet, he was just overwhelmed with a contagious joy. Mr. Van der Linde had arrived, so how far away could a good, prosperous life be? "Those d*mned hooligans will definitely come to rob you when they find out you got a raise!" he added, a last, well-intentioned warning.

Listening to Pauli's reminder, Martin merely waved his hand dismissively over his shoulder, already halfway out the door, and said, "Oh, sh*t, Pauli, haven't you noticed that those ruffians didn't come to your tavern to cause trouble today at all?" He paused at the doorway, a sly grin on his face.

"When I came over just now, I saw them all being arrested by Mr. Van der Linde's police officers and being transported towards the train station. It's become absolutely safe here, sir!" Martin finished, a triumphant flourish in his voice, before disappearing into the morning light.

Martin ran out of the tavern, leaving Pauli alone, inexplicably excited, a wide, dazed smile on his face. He slowly walked out from behind his counter, his movements light.

He pushed open the tavern door and stepped back onto the rain-slicked street, breathing in the fresh, clean air.

His gaze swept to the street corners on both sides, where the six new police officers at the two intersections still stood ramrod straight, solemn and dignified, their forms unwavering.

When a carriage, its wheels splashing through puddles, passed uphill, straining against the incline, there would even be a police officer who would jog up to help push the carriage, a small act of unexpected courtesy and assistance.

Looking at the peaceful, orderly atmosphere on the street, completely different from its usual chaotic state, and smelling the air now filled with a calm freshness and the lingering scent of rain, a heartfelt, genuine smile spread across Pauli's face. It was a smile of profound relief and burgeoning hope.

He walked to the middle of the intersection with a wide, almost giddy smile and waved enthusiastically to the police officers: "Hey, gentlemen, come to the tavern for a drink after work! On me!"

The rising sun, the first gentle ray of sunlight in Saint Denis, finally broke through the clouds, casting a golden glow on the calm and peaceful street, signaling the dawn of a new, uncertain era.