Chapter 198: Military Strength

Around noon—more precisely, early afternoon—Ferrell drove over to pick up Lynch.

That morning, Lynch had called him to discuss the rapidly worsening public security in Sabin City and shared his concerns. Ferrell assured him he could handle these minor issues and said he would pick Lynch up that afternoon.

Sitting in Ferrell’s car, Ferrell spoke while driving, “You shouldn’t drive your car out for a while. Honestly, the situation is developing faster than we expected.”

This is the power of wealth. The mayor would never admit the situation was out of control; he always appeared calm and composed, acting as if everything was under control. Anything else was simply impossible.

Ferrell was different. Loyal to his job and professional, he took Lynch’s money and wanted to keep it. So he had to strategize for Lynch and share things Lynch didn’t know.

The situation was advancing faster than Sabin City’s ruling group anticipated. The mayor and Ferrell believed that only after the new year would those suffering in life try to storm financial institutions.

They expected assaults on federal government agencies around March or April of next year.

Until then, people weren’t starving; the city’s ample food vouchers ensured hunger wasn’t an issue. Lack of money alone shouldn’t trigger such actions.

But reality struck them hard.

“Last night, a small gang attacked a bank and was repelled. The police chief and investigation bureau chief think this sets a bad precedent. More violent robberies may follow.”

“Your car is too conspicuous. You’re an easy target. I suggest buying a used car and modifying it.”

The light turned red. Ferrell eased off the gas and glanced at Lynch. “You can make the interior luxurious so you still enjoy it, but the outside shouldn’t look valuable. That way, people won’t pay much attention.”

As they talked, a gunshot rang out suddenly. The crowd scattered instantly, and within moments, the street was nearly empty.

A man wearing a hat, glasses, and a jacket, concealing himself tightly, was violently ripping a bag from a person lying on the ground. Two patrol officers stood farther away, but they clearly didn’t intervene immediately.

When the attacker aimed the gun again at the victim, terrified of death, the victim let go of the bag. The attacker grabbed it and sprinted into a nearby alley.

Only then did the two patrol officers rush over to check the victim’s condition and call for backup.

With the police presence, some people returned, including a few daring onlookers. Order somewhat restored.

“Uh…” Ferrell felt the need to explain but everything happened too fast. Less than twenty seconds passed since the shot—maybe only fifteen—and his mind hadn’t fully caught up.

“Maybe the police were caught off guard,” he said, justifying their passive reaction.

Lynch stared at him, and Ferrell gradually looked away, loosening his grip on the steering wheel. “Well, actually this issue…”

The blaring horn interrupted him. The car restarted, and Ferrell kept explaining the situation.

Since last night’s incident, seven police officers had resigned, and others were considering it.

These officers were clever—call it smart. Policing is tough work, and once things calm down, they expect to return.

The city was too dangerous now. Armed assaults on financial institutions were happening; more terrible events were likely soon.

As police, they faced deadly criminals—not the frightened fools on TV who scatter at the sight of an officer.

Some attackers had more shooting experience than the police. While a few were fearless fighters for justice, most were ordinary people unwilling to risk their lives for a monthly salary of three hundred.

So the police chief allowed them to temporarily avoid armed crime, ensuring they could continue maintaining order steadily.

The car slowed near a rundown area outside the city center.

By the roadside stood a semi-cylindrical building shaped like ⌒. In front was an open space with exercise equipment. The car stopped near a sign reading Sabin City Veterans Club.

Walking inside, Ferrell said, “Though we stay neutral, we maintain a proper military structure to deter unprovoked attacks from other countries.”

“Many veterans return to society each year. This place is the hub for Sabin City’s veterans. My wife’s father is also a veteran…”

Ferrell opened the door. Inside, two soldiers sat at the front desk. After introducing themselves and stating their purpose, a silver-haired elderly man greeted them warmly.

This veteran was Ferrell’s father-in-law. After brief pleasantries, the three went to the back, which resembled a military barracks.

“We preserve as much of the military environment as possible. This helps returning soldiers reintegrate into society.”

Studies show soldiers who live long in the military struggle to adapt to civilian life.

During service, they train in lethal skills and maintain high alertness, always ready for battle.

This clashes with peaceful life. The contrast causes psychological issues for many, sometimes leading to tragedy.

The Veterans Club, commissioned by the Ministry of Defense, helps soldiers readjust and reintegrate.

The old veteran led them to a barracks room. Upon entry, the soldiers inside immediately stood at attention beside their beds, as if still in service.

Ferrell’s father-in-law smiled proudly and asked Lynch, “How do you find my boys?”

“This is Ferrell’s solution—veterans.”

“These young men all retired in May and haven’t fully engaged with society yet. Each was an excellent soldier,” Ferrell explained, meaning they weren’t planted agents and loyalty wasn’t a concern.

Lynch nodded, scanning their faces before deciding.

“They all have gun permits, right?”

Before Ferrell could answer, his father-in-law said, “No need to worry about that. Of course.”

Lynch’s affirmation visibly relieved the old man. Veterans’ pensions and living arrangements were managed by local veterans’ offices.

This was easier before, when a recommendation letter meant factory owners eagerly hired disciplined veterans, who followed rules and were easy to manage.

But now, the situation was dire. Factories didn’t want veterans anymore. Those returning this year had yet to find stable jobs.

The Ministry of Defense, veterans’ offices, and local clubs realized that if these men were left to wander society unchecked, a scene no one wanted to see was very likely to unfold.

They might be tempted by criminals or driven by hardship to use their military skills for crime. Then the police would face not just armed thugs, but well-trained killers.

After a brief agreement, the Veterans Club began addressing these young men’s living problems.

The Ministry of Defense directly funds local veterans clubs until the situation is resolved.

While Lynch and Ferrell’s father-in-law signed the agreement in the office, the young men were already ready, packing their belongings like soldiers waiting for Lynch.

They were curious about Lynch, who was younger than all of them, which made them think working with him wouldn’t be difficult. They were also hopeful about their future.

After Lynch left the office and shook hands with Ferrell’s father-in-law in front of the soldiers, the young men finally relaxed.

The highest-ranking sergeant among them wanted to say something but suddenly realized he didn’t know how to talk to Lynch. After a brief moment of confusion, his mind went blank.