America? No, it's the warp!

The drunkard's tone became increasingly agitated:

"I've served America for 10 years!"

I confronted the enemy in the desert for five days and five nights!

I have more gunshot wounds than I have left on my fingers!

He raised his left hand, his ring and little fingers neatly severed.

Lucy looked troubled. It was impossible to reason with a drunkard, especially one who was full of resentment.

Most importantly, she had no idea why the other party didn't receive any discharge pay.

"These are all American regulations, and I can't change them alone."

The beer hall fell silent as everyone was drawn to the commotion, and the two of them once again became the center of attention.

"Nonsense! You only need to change one piece of information—cross out my damn criminal record!"

The drunkard's excitement reached its peak, and he stretched out his full right hand to grab Lucy.

Logan suddenly stood up.

His left hand seized the drunkard's wrist.

The other party increased the pressure, but it still didn't budge.

That hand was like a pair of pliers, preventing his hand from moving forward or backward.

"Stay away from this lady."

Logan gently pushed the drunkard back a few steps with a little force, then stepped in front of Lucy to shield him.

The drunkard came from the largest table in the store, where there were seven of his companions. Half of them had already slammed their fists on the table and stood up, while the other half had rushed out.

The other patrons watched coldly, and no one offered a helping hand to a beautiful stranger with a male companion.

But everyone likes to watch a fight, whether it's 8 against 1 or 1 against 8.

Even some veterans who weren't his drunkards were eager to join the other side of the line because Lucy worked at the Veterans Resource Center.

Clearly, most veterans did not receive the severance pay they were entitled to.

Logan scanned the patrons in the tavern, noticing the growing crowd in front of him, and then glanced at the indifferent owner.

The boss, who is also a veteran, also had some complaints.

"We can't fight. I can't beat so many people with my bare hands; my physical strength isn't that high."

"If I used a combat knife, I could cut these people into pieces, but I'd only get hit by one bullet."

"That boss will definitely come out with a shotgun and quiet everyone down before things escalate too much."

"But before that, I'll get a lot of punches, and Lucy's in danger too."

Logan didn't use [Hallucination Precognition]; he had already come up with another way.

Attacking the body is inferior; attacking the mind is superior.

"Do you really think you'll receive your veteran's benefits just because you applied for them?"

With just one sentence, he successfully attracted the attention of all the veterans in front of him.

Some who wanted to take action were held back by their companions.

"What do you mean?" the drunkard asked.

Logan himself is the best example.

"In 2020, I was 17 years old when I joined the army. Three years later, due to an accident, I was able to be discharged for life thanks to PTSD and severe brain damage. Two years after my discharge, I did not receive a single penny of the discharge pay that should have been paid to me."

"Why should we believe you!" the drunkard roared.

Logan shook his head.

"Don't believe me. Ask everyone in the tavern how many will get their full pay, how many will get 60%, and how many will only get 30%."

The drunkard asked the same question to the people behind him.

100% no, 60% no.

Of all those eligible for veterans' benefits, only 30% receive them; the rest do not receive any benefits.

"So what? You're different from us. You don't have a veteran's pension, but you still dress smartly and go on dates with your girlfriends."

The drunkard saw what was happening, but he didn't give up; he just wanted to find someone to hate.

Logan glanced around at the hostile people and realized that most of them were just looking for an outlet for their anger, a target for their resentment.

Their anger had been suppressed for a long time.

"For two years after I was discharged from the military, I spent one year as a homeless person in the Falls Park. Until the 22nd, when the temperature dropped to 5 degrees Celsius at night, I could only wear a sweatshirt with cardboard tied to the outside to keep warm."

"I'm dressed better now, but do you know what I traded for those clothes?"

The veterans remained silent.

"My friend, Kieran's body, he chose a very high concentration of fentanyl as his early Christmas present so that he wouldn't freeze to death at night."

"I sold his body and got a tent and clothes in return."

"Later, a security guard at a leaf shop near the waterfall park died in a robbery, and I was lucky enough to find a job. I think you all have heard of this incident."

Logan's performance was sincere, but he still needs a strong demonstration of his abilities.

"He's telling the truth; the robbery was committed by four members of the 'Crippled Gang.'"

The bar owner then spoke up to corroborate this.

The veterans all looked at him; most of them were regular customers and already knew the owner's character and personality well.

This proof is very authoritative.

The soldiers looked back, this time with much gentler eyes.

No matter how bad their situation was, they didn't end up as homeless or nearly freeze to death on the streets.

The person opposite them was just a fellow countryman who shared their plight.

"Sorry, bro, it was my fault..."

The drunkard sobered up considerably and realized his mistake.

However, Logan was definitely not quite there yet; he felt something was missing in this beer hall.

"No, brother, it's not your fault."

Amidst the astonished gazes of the crowd, Logan's expression grew even more serious, but then his tone shifted abruptly.

When I was little, I heard a story.

"The Statue of Liberty is to celebrate freedom and democracy in America."

"America also has a sacred history; back then, it was known as the beacon of the world."

"But now..."

Logan's words have stirred up memories for some veterans.

"My army is corrupt and incompetent. The soldiers are fed rations that are worse than pig swill, and we don't receive the demobilization pay we deserve."

"Our economy is stagnant, and the government even needs to use student loans, which disregard the country's future, to amass wealth."

"This is all because..."

Inside the tavern, all the soldiers had spontaneously stood up and gathered around.

They knew that Logan was absolutely telling the truth.

"It's all because they don't care!"

"They don't care about the future of America!"

"This country may collapse, but they can build a new one!"

"But we care. Only people like us, from the bottom of society, care about the future of America!"

Logan spoke passionately, and a crowd had already gathered around him. No one was drinking anymore, and even those who had already passed out were pulled over by their companions.

The bar owner stopped what he was doing and listened attentively.

"They are our enemies."

"They are not Russians, nor are they Middle Easterners."

"They are in America."

"Those Wall Street capitalists, those White House politicians."

"They are our enemies, not this girl who's just a receptionist."

Veterans need a target of hatred, so give them a target of hatred.

Logan's words were precious and resounding.

"yes!"

"He's right!"

"We didn't receive a single penny, but those in the upper class live a life of extravagance!"

The veterans nodded in agreement; the target of their hatred was now very clear.

But then, a completely different voice suddenly rang out:

"Alright! You're all drunk! Now get back to your seats!"