Chaos is a ladder

Compared to the United States, Mexican cities tend to resemble those from the Republican era.

It's not that the environment is backward, but rather that the cities are a chaotic mix, with various gangs and small factions carving up every inch of the city, much like the omnipresent Mafia families in European cities. While it might seem a few years more advanced than the American West's cowboy era, in reality, there's nothing truly advanced about it.

The main reason for the American West's cowboy era was the vast, sparsely populated land, with most settlements being small towns like Strawberry. In such towns, the Mafia style of operation simply wouldn't work, so the development leaned more towards bandit-like cowboys.

In contrast, Mexico has less land but more people, and while its cities aren't well-built, they are densely populated, which provides the conditions for the establishment of Mafia or various other gangs.

However, this place is incredibly chaotic. Within the cities, various gang families divide every area, outside the city, various cowboy-like gang members commit murder and robbery, and in the mountains, even warlords have raised armies, occupying territories to grow poppies or seize mines and oil resources to profit themselves.

It can be said that this place brings together all the existing power structures, leading to a situation where even in a city, the people live in misery.

"Hya!"

With Arthur's shout, the four of them, leading a contingent of fifty soldiers, grandly entered Jon City.

Almost the moment their figures appeared, countless gang members began to return to their bosses to relay the news.

A fifty-man squad of gunmen, uniformly equipped and dressed, even wearing bulletproof vests and steel helmets—this typical military attire was a display of the highest level of force.

Moreover, the equipment of this army completely surpassed that of Mexico and the United States at this stage.

These two countries, let alone bulletproof vests and steel helmets, would even struggle to provide a rifle for every person. Mexico's army is even worse, unable to even wear uniform military attire.

But the current squad, each on a horse, with sturdy and powerful steeds, and the riding soldiers burly and strong, most importantly, their equipment: a cool and formidable black and white military uniform, and the matching bulletproof vests and steel helmets, clearly indicated that the power behind this unit must be extremely formidable.

They carried ammunition belts, rifles slung on their backs, and even three incomprehensible round canteens at their waists—this was equipment of extreme wealth.

Darn it, for this fifty-man squad, most of the major forces in Jon City would struggle to bear the cost of such equipment.

Not to mention the cold demeanor and formidable aura of these fifty men; they were clearly well-trained experts, and such a military spirit could only come from large-scale training.

Darn it, what force has such immense power? They even equipped each person with three small round canteens; just these three small, fist-sized iron canteens alone are not something a normal person could afford!

This squad rode so arrogantly and grandly through the main gate into the city, and from beginning to end, no one dared to step forward to stop them or ask questions.

Even the police officers on the streets of Jon City, upon seeing this squad, their first reaction was not to stop them, but to quickly turn their heads away, only turning back in realization after the squad had ridden far away, saying, "Sh*t! Someone dared to ride horses on the street! This is simply unreasonable!"

The new uniforms of the Van der Linde Gang, made of fine fabric, their robust physiques, and their tall horses formed a stark contrast with the residents of Jon City.

The living conditions of the people in Jon City appeared extremely harsh; the gang members were dressed decently, while the common people on the streets were all emaciated and bony, their clothes dirty and torn, looking utterly disheveled.

In reality, this cannot be blamed on the people here for not being hygienic; it's because the Jon City Government has a water tax. The poor people here have to pay for drinking water, and also for bathing in the river. If they can't afford to bathe, they naturally get dirty.

Of course, the officials of the Jon City Government are also innocent; they have to make money! Every month, they not only have to pay various warlords in the surrounding areas but also pay the big gangs in the city, or else their lives would be in danger!

Last month, Mr. Amalfetano, the largest warlord in the surrounding area, dissatisfied with their actions, arrested and shot a group of government office staff. How could they not be afraid!

And with the arrival of a contingent from the Van der Linde Gang, these officials became even more terrified.

At this moment, Jon City Government.

Chief of Police Mr. Jose Garcia had already ridden his horse in a hurried rush to Mayor Mr. Martinez's office in Jon City.

"Mr. Martinez, Mr. Martinez, it's bad, it's bad! Something terrible has happened, another warlord has arrived outside!" Mr. Garcia cried out in terror.

As a police chief, and one in the city, Mr. Garcia had no real authority as a chief. Although he had over a hundred police officers under him, they could manage small gangs but were completely powerless against large ones.

The large gangs in Jon City typically numbered six or seven hundred people, with some even reaching over a thousand. Although these people were all ruffians and scoundrels, lacking real strength or skill, they were numerous! (This is quite normal; our local gangs here have even more subordinates, the Green Gang had hundreds of thousands, 14K over two hundred thousand, which is simply unimaginable)

Therefore, despite being the city's police chief, Mr. Garcia was still treated no differently than a dog.

Listening to Mr. Garcia's terrified voice, Mayor Mr. Martinez was startled, turning back in a panic, "Sh*t! What did you say? Another warlord? Oh, my God!"

"Yes, Mr. Mayor, another warlord has arrived. I saw it with my own eyes just now: over fifty people carrying rifles, in uniform, even wearing steel helmets, rode into the city. Now they seem to be heading south! Sir, you don't know their attire; it was completely uniform, clearly under centralized control, and their aura and equipment were far stronger than Mr. Amalfetano's subordinates! This clearly indicates they must be a major warlord, much bigger than Mr. Amalfetano!" Mr. Garcia explained in terror, the fear in his eyes almost overflowing.

He couldn't help it; he was the newly appointed police chief, and previous chiefs were usually assassinated or openly killed within a year at most. He was genuinely terrified of such truly powerful warlords.

Mr. Martinez cried out in terror, "Oh, sh*t! Oh, sh*t! Jennifer, quick, quick, call all the other council members over! Darn it, withdraw the money from the bank, and hurry with me to give gifts!"

That's right, upon hearing that a new warlord had arrived, as a mayor, Mr. Martinez's first thought was not to resist, but to offer gifts.

This shows how chaotic this place had become.

But chaos is good; chaos means the people's living conditions are poor, and once rescued by Mr. Van der Linde, their loyalty will surely be immense.

Furthermore, it means there will certainly be more free laborers awaiting Mr. Van der Linde's recruitment, which is simply wonderful!

"Wonderful, this place is simply wonderful!"

Bill laughed loudly, pulled out his revolver, and shot dead the American man in front of him.

"F*ck, you damned trash actually dare to block our way!" Bill yelled, and with another shot, killed the man's companion standing next to him.

Just as they had arrived in the southern district of the city and stopped, these two men, dressed in black trench coats and wearing top hats, blocked their path.

Both of them looked arrogant, and their first words were questions.

"Sour radish, don't eat it. Where are you people from? What business do you have in Jon City? Damn it, I'm telling you, you've crossed the line, this is Mr. Amalfetano's territory!"

It was Mr. Amalfetano again. Arthur didn't even look at them, letting Bill shoot them dead directly.

Piercing gunshots echoed through the street, causing a flurry of panicked shouts and drawing gazes from all directions.

There were too many gang members in this place. Because of the proliferation of gangs, ordinary people were severely oppressed. To avoid being oppressed, most young people wanted to join gangs, which led to even more gang members and more severe oppression, forming a vicious cycle.

Many people in black suits stood around the street, staring like wolves at the group in the middle of the road who had just shot two of Mr. Amalfetano's subordinates.

"Hmph, another fool who doesn't know the depths of Jon City. Just wait and watch the show!"

"Are Mr. Amalfetano's men so easy to kill? Hmph, what's the use of having some men? Isn't this just asking for trouble?"

"Interesting, tell Big Boss the news. Mr. Amalfetano might be in trouble this time. This group looks really hard to provoke!"

Groups of various faction members stood boldly on both sides of the street, watching and even shaking their heads, chatting and laughing with the people next to them, appearing quite audacious.

Some, with gloomy eyes, peered out from alley entrances, sneering at Arthur and his group on the street, a hint of disdain in their chuckles.

Others had inexplicable expressions, narrowing their eyes as they assessed the attire of Arthur and his group, conversing in low voices with those beside them.

Most of these people were like those small-time hooligans who liked to show off, feeling like being part of the underworld was a big deal. They all swaggered with arrogant postures, shaking their heads. Only a few had minds as clear as a mirror, secretly instructing their subordinates and pondering the intentions of this group.

As the gunshots rang out, the fifty gunmen Arthur brought instantly became alert. Everyone immediately formed a protective circle around Arthur, raising their rifles and aiming at the gang members surrounding them on the street.

The atmosphere was terrifying.

Arthur, on his horse, scanned the scene on the street, completely unfazed by the stares from the entire street.

Joking aside, they were genuine desperadoes; they had nothing to fear except Dutch.

However, with the escalation of the situation, it seemed they didn't need to inquire about any news; they could just release the information themselves.

Thinking of this, Arthur immediately raised his hand and fired a shot into the sky, drawing the attention of the gangs on the street to himself.

Then he stood on his horse and shouted:

"Gentlemen, ladies, I am Arthur Morgan! A member of the Van der Linde Gang, General Manager of Van der Linde Arms Trading Company, Secretary-General of New Hanover, Secretary-General of Lemoyne, and President of Van der Linde Apparel Design!

Our purpose in coming to Jon City today is but one: to sell firearms!

By the decree of the Van der Linde Gang leader, Mr. Dutch Van der Linde, from today onwards, the Jon City Government and all gangs in Jon City must purchase our firearms. Should any gang or individual dare to defy the Van der Linde Gang's plan, then they shall face the Van der Linde Gang's most brutal conquest!"

Arthur, riding on his horse, shouted loudly, first speaking the words Dutch had told him to say.

And it's true, this kid has been with Dutch for a long time now, and he even knows to introduce himself before speaking, and he does it quite well, with conviction.

Then he spoke again, warning the gangs on the street:

"If you don't value your eyeballs, you can continue to watch. Gentlemen, if I were you, I would go back and report this now!

I hope that when we come next time, your bosses will have the dollars ready to buy firearms, otherwise, you'll have to sell yourselves!

Also, please tell Mr. Amalfetano to prepare his money, minerals, and oil. Mr. Van der Linde said that a damned warlord should return to a normal warlord's life instead of trying to meddle in everything. If he extends his hand too far, Mr. Van der Linde doesn't mind cutting it off! Hmph!"

Arthur snorted coldly, then pulled out his revolver and fired six shots in quick succession, disarming six gang members on the street.

"Ah!" Screams followed the gunshots, and the panicked crowd on the street looked on in horror, realizing that none of the six men had any finger injuries; each had simply had their handgun precisely shot out of their hands!

This completely stunned the gang members.

Whether it was people from the Mafia families or various gang forces, whether it was family gunmen or strategists, upon seeing Arthur's skill, all were terrified and flustered.

Damn it, such fast shooting, such strong accuracy, this man alone could decimate an entire gang!

At this, the show-off hooligans immediately stopped pretending, their faces shifting between expressions as they slowly retreated.

It seems the sky over Jon City is about to change!

The eyes of the citizens on Jon City's streets grew even darker.

It's over, another Big Boss has arrived. How will they live their lives now!

Arthur's gaze shifted from the retreating hooligans, then he looked at Javier and said, "Javier, go find your sister now. Bring her back. Dutch has already given the instructions."

"Sure, Arthur!" Javier nodded and rode to the front of the group.

It was fortunate that these gang members saw the large number of people in this group and didn't dare to start a conflict.

Otherwise, when Dutch came to recruit miners, if he saw that Jon City had been slaughtered by Arthur and a few others, that would be interesting.

Arthur and a few others were operating in Jon City, while Dutch stayed at Rhine Harbor, discussing the next plan with Hosea, who had returned from Saint Denis.

Inside the tidied-up saloon, Hosea and Dutch sat at the bar, sipping red wine.

At this stage, Governor Dutch's power was astonishing; at his command, the Van der Linde Gang's forces poured out, and an endless stream of troop transports crossed the Lanaheqi River, heading towards Mexico.

All kinds of resources and facilities were continuously arranged, and even workers had begun to build bunkers.

Mr. Van der Linde likes bunkers, which is a well-known secret. A bunker requires at least five gunmen to take turns on duty, so the number of gunmen needed is extremely high.

However, this is not a problem. Nearly a million people in the two large states of New Hanover and Lemoyne are constantly waiting for Mr. Van der Linde's conscription. With a little training, even if they can't reach the level of a second-rate gunman, they are still qualified to be an ordinary machine gunner. (The West has a sparse population, pitifully so; the bulk of the population is still in Saint Denis, otherwise it would be even less. Places like New Austin are even desolate.)

Machine guns don't require accuracy; you just hold the trigger and blind-fire towards the opposite position. Anyone who isn't blind can basically operate it.

"So, Dutch, our next path is Mexico? Are we not expanding into West Elizabeth?"

Hosea took a sip of red wine, his gaze passing through the newly renovated saloon door to look outside.

The docks were now covered with all kinds of ships: transporting workers, transporting materials, transporting gunmen, and transporting ammunition.

These people were all direct subordinates of Mr. Van der Linde. With them, Rhine Harbor would quickly expand into the appearance of a small city.

This was Mr. Van der Linde's idea. As the transit port between Saint Denis and Mexico, the construction of this place must be ensured, preparing it to become the largest future transit port between the United States and Mexico, bringing a continuous supply of materials to Mr. Van der Linde.

Listening to Hosea's question, Dutch unhurriedly picked up the exquisite cigar box on the table, used a cigar cutter to clip a cigar for himself, and then said, "For now, yes, Hosea. All development requires human resources, and right now, what we lack most is human resources. Otherwise, why would we come to Mexico?

Rescuing the struggling and impoverished people living in Mexico and bringing them to New Hanover and Lemoyne to expand our human resources is our main goal for future development.

You know, the population in this West is simply too sparse. Those damn gang members have almost wiped out everyone in the entire West. Oh, sh*t! I'll lead troops to slaughter them all sooner or later!"

Dutch took a deep puff of his cigar, exhaled a little smoke, and narrowed his eyes slightly, a hint of enjoyment on his face.

"Population is the foundation of development, Hosea, at least for us. Whether it's farming or mining, whether it's construction or production, it all requires people, and right now, our population there is simply pitifully small!

The harsh environment of the West has driven everyone to the East, which is why the West hasn't developed!

Oh, sh*t! It's all those damn gang members' fault!"

Dutch roared.

Accompanying his words, at another table in the saloon, several female scribes continuously copied the words that Mr. Van der Linde had just spoken.

This will all be history in the future, needing to be recorded.

Every word and action of Mr. President Van der Linde needs to be recorded; otherwise, how will future generations look up to him?

And what Dutch said was absolutely correct. The current West is just like the former Western Regions: thousands of miles uninhabited, with no population anywhere except for a few villages and one city. Even if there were people living in the wild, they were pitifully few, and most had been killed.

Therefore, the most urgent task now is to recruit people!

Listening to Dutch's reply, Hosea nodded understandingly. He thought, what was the meaning of not occupying a perfectly good West Elizabeth?

However, after a slight hesitation, Hosea's brows furrowed again.

"But, Dutch, what if someone occupies West Elizabeth during our development stage? Of course, I'm not talking about gang members like Colm, but rather Eastern capital.

I feel this is a problem, because they can't be cleared out as easily as gang members. I think I still need to make plans early."

"No, Hosea, my old friend, why are you now starting to set limits for yourself, just like those senators?

We are bandits, Hosea, we are warlords! Not those damn senators who got elected. We don't need elections; no one can restrain our power!

West Elizabeth is here to be occupied!

Hoo hoo hoo, let people occupy West Elizabeth, develop its resources, and once all facilities are built, we will forcibly reclaim it. This way, we'll have both population and ready-made facilities. Isn't this much better than developing it ourselves?

Hahaha, Hosea, do you still remember what I once told Chief Rains Fall?

I said that if they bought the land back now, it would be like giving away a wilderness and finally getting back developed land. West Elizabeth is the same now.

Our manpower is not yet sufficient. Occupying so many places has no meaning; we won't have the spare capacity to develop them, and even control will be a problem. So, it's better to let others develop it first. Once we have enough people and the land is fully developed, we'll take it back. This way, with one transaction, we're making a pure profit, aren't we?"

Dutch explained to Hosea with a look of disappointment.

"Damn it, Hosea, every step we've taken from the beginning until now has never followed any damn rules. We've always played outside the rules. Why are both you and Arthur now starting to set rules for yourselves?

Oh, sh*t! It seems I need to let you kill some people, otherwise you'll sooner or later confine yourselves within your own rules, just like those damn dignitaries in Saint Denis, who ultimately died within the rules they set for themselves!

If we also become mediocre because of this, it would be too ridiculous! Hosea, too ridiculous!"

Dutch's face was filled with angry disappointment.

Those in power always set the rules, but this group of people in the Van der Linde Gang started to obey the rules after setting them, which was too strange and too disappointing for him!

Look at him, Mr. Dutch Van der Linde, he always takes what he lacks and uses various methods to achieve what he wants!

Before, when he lacked money, he pulled in the powerful to earn money and fame, expanding his business.

Later, when he lacked power, he directly sent troops to take over the Saint Denis City Government, instantly becoming the boss of Lemoyne.

Now, lacking people, he directly sent the army to Mexico, forcibly occupying already built mines and oil resources, and forcibly bringing Mexican people back to build for him.

Mr. Dutch Van der Linde was the one who, from beginning to end, ignored all rules to achieve his goals, unlike this bunch of idiots in the Van der Linde Gang who were restricted by their own rules!

He particularly wanted to criticize Arthur, who now, when out on the street, smiled and greeted everyone, and when he got angry, he suppressed it and went home to torment his old companions, which really infuriated Mr. Van der Linde!

"F*ck you, Arthur, f*ck!" Thinking of Arthur's sarcasm on the boat, Dutch suddenly cursed out loud, startling Hosea beside him.

"Oh, sh*t! Dutch, damn it, buddy, you're a bit off right now!"

"Nothing, Hosea, I just remembered Arthur."

"Alright, Arthur, that kid, sigh!" Hosea sighed deeply at the thought of Arthur.

He recalled a while ago, he was sitting cheerfully in a chair on the ranch, watching the female workers eat and chat. Arthur walked by and said with a chuckle, "Oh, the old Indian pigeon is having his second spring?"

At this point, Hosea sighed deeply again, then looked at Dutch and said, "Dutch, I'll talk to Arthur. You know, that kid, he's not bad at heart. He's just been, he's just been too idle lately. I think we need to find him something to do."

"Wait, Hosea, he'll have something to do soon." Dutch nodded, feeling that Hosea was right.

Arthur had indeed been very idle lately. The Van der Linde Gang's army had been established, so they didn't need to be involved in military matters, nor did they need to be involved in making money. Although Arthur seemed to follow Dutch around every day, he didn't need to use his brain or his hands, making him no different from a big idler.

A life without conflict was clearly not something the Van der Linde Gang could easily adapt to.

John, at the very least, had been running around Guarma with Hosea during this time, so Arthur had become bored sick.

A sickness of the mind.

Dutch and Hosea stood up and slowly walked out of the saloon.

As they walked, they observed the construction of Rhine Harbor.

The number of people at Rhine Harbor had now completely doubled. Although Dutch had brought over more than three thousand soldiers from Saint Denis, it wasn't just these three thousand soldiers who came. A considerable number of workers also came, with various types of workers totaling over four thousand.

Currently, Rhine Harbor is under construction everywhere; the harbor is being expanded, at least five bunkers are being built around it, and in addition, houses are being built within the harbor and land is being opened up.

This place needs to be built into the largest harbor bordering Mexico. Of course, it's not just a matter of installing a few cannons. Buildings, urban scale, living and production, as well as wells, power plants, and other things, all need to be prepared.

Seeing the figure of Van der Linde, the workers who were building wooden houses around the saloon immediately became excited.

"Oh, Van der Linde, dear sir, it's so good to see you!"

"Look, son, it's Van der Linde, oh, my Van der Linde! I never thought I'd see Van der Linde today, it's truly Van der Linde's blessing!"

A group of workers felt the wooden stakes they were carrying instantly lighten. Their slightly aching backs immediately straightened, though they were a bit thirsty, unsure if it was from excitement or the sun.

Looking at the excited and fervent workers, Dutch smiled broadly and greeted them warmly, saying, "Oh, gentlemen, how are you? How has life been lately? Has your pay been disbursed on time?"

"Oh, Van der Linde, our lives are so good now! Compared to before, our lives now are completely heaven!" The workers' hearts were almost melted.

See, Van der Linde is so good. Such a great leader, such a high status, not only does he not look down on them like the former nobles, but he is also gentle as water, chatting with them like a friend. If Van der Linde is not God, then who is God?

Could it be that the former nobles, who used to send people to drive them away in disgust upon seeing them, these mud-covered peasants, were God?

Listening to their respectful and fervent replies, Dutch laughed heartily, "Good, good, that's great! But you can't just focus on work, gentlemen, rest is necessary! Even if the work isn't finished, you must ensure your health! Work for a while and then rest; don't wear yourselves out. There's still a lot of happy life waiting for you to enjoy!

By the way, Hosea, did you bring beer? That's absolutely essential! Quickly have someone bring all the beer over so everyone can have a couple of sips to relieve their fatigue during their break!"

Van der Linde paid great attention to the living conditions and happiness index of the workers, even including the necessity of beer and cigarettes while working in the regulations.

Listening to Dutch's question, before Hosea could answer, the grateful voices of the workers already rang out.

"We have beer, Van der Linde! Hosea has always paid attention to this, see, the beer is right there! Oh, Van der Linde, don't worry, we'll finish the work even if we die here today! Otherwise, we'd be ungrateful for your kindness!"

"Look, son, this is Van der Linde, damn it, when did those former nobles ever care about our health? Look at Van der Linde, he not only cares about our bodies but also our feelings! Son, your father tells you today, if Van der Linde is in danger, then your father will be the first to go, and you take care of your mother then!"

"No, Dad, Mom and I will stand in front of Van der Linde, just like you."

"Good boy, truly a good boy!"

"Ahaha, Van der Linde! It's truly so touching!"

A group of workers were almost frantically excited. Listen to what Van der Linde said; he not only gave them high pay and benefits but also cared about their health and their enjoyment while working.

Not to mention this era, how many companies even today have such humanistic care?

Damn it, in this era, this is pure succubus!

The workers only felt that the heavy wooden stakes in their hands instantly became as light as leaves. They wished they could carry the large wooden stakes, which originally required three people to lift, by themselves and squat to express their inner fervor and excitement.

The rapid secretion of adrenaline made this group of people work like crazy, feeling a strong sense of guilt if they worked even a little slower.

As for whether anyone truly doesn't understand gratitude? You must be joking; those who don't understand gratitude are either mining in the mines now or have already reincarnated.

Dutch and Hosea walked forward, their gaze returning from the busy workers.

"Hosea, trade is both the primary element of prosperity and the fundamental requirement for urban flourishing. Therefore, once the harbor construction is complete, I need you to promote Jon City in Mexico in Saint Denis.

Let the merchants see the benefits, thereby spontaneously initiating trade, in order to drive the development of this port!"

"Okay, Dutch. Hahaha, I don't think the houses here can be sold too cheaply." Hosea smiled. Having followed Dutch for so long, he could certainly understand the meaning behind this.

"Hohoho, of course, Hosea, of course! This place will be worth its weight in gold in the future!" Dutch laughed heartily, patting Hosea on the shoulder.

Wouldn't the money spent just come back then? There would be tariffs on trade between the two countries at Rhine Harbor, right?

Such a large trade port would surely have a huge merchant scale in the future, so property prices would definitely be expensive, right?

At Dutch's level, money no longer held much meaning; what he wanted now were resources, various resources, not just stacks of green American dollars.

Mountains of money in a warehouse are waste paper; mountains of grain in a warehouse are the people's hearts.