105: Chapter 105 Speech Incitement, Iron-Blooded Suppression Arrives

The area below the stage was packed with people.

Some held up homemade signs, others waved small national flags, and some were using their phones to record videos of Prant. Although the Biden administration had started arresting people and deleting videos, these people still came, and more of them had arrived than at any previous rally.

Prant waited for the cheering below to subside slightly before leaning forward. He brought his mouth close to the microphone, and his voice spread out through the speakers, carrying that distinctive, raspy resonance of his.

"Thank you."

"Thank you for coming here today."

There was another round of applause and whistling from the crowd.

He raised his hand and pressed down gently, continuing, "The reason we are standing here now is to replace the incompetent, derelict Biden administration that only knows how to cover up the truth, and to bring about a new government."

"A new government that can truly be controlled by you, by the people of the Lighthouse Country."

His voice was not loud, but every word he spoke was determined and clear, as if he were in a huge event tent, chatting with a room full of old friends about something everyone already knew.

"The current ruling faction in Washington, the Biden administration, is just a puppet government."

"It is the Deep State behind the scenes that is manipulating this puppet."

"The existence of the Biden administration has only one purpose: to protect the powerful elites of the Deep State and keep them getting richer."

Some in the crowd whistled, and others held up signs shouting, "Kick him out!"

Prant waved his hand and continued, his tone shifting from the steady composure he had when he first stepped onto the podium to something sharp, resolute, and piercing.

"Last night, we all saw it."

He tapped his finger on the podium, neither lightly nor heavily, and the entire venue instantly fell silent. Everyone held their breath; the camera flashes stopped flickering, and the commotion in the back rows came to an abrupt halt.

"That is not an urban legend, nor is it some conspiracy theory."

"It is right there, in the sky."

"According to the intelligence I currently possess, those two hundred thousand Space Fleet vessels that first appeared over the Hoover Dam are the legendary Deep State!"

"They have powerful military force, powerful technology, and a powerful fleet!"

"And our campaign, to them, is a real threat they have never seen before!"

"This is not a simple presidential election that happens every four years; this is the turning point of our Lighthouse Country's destiny!"

"This will determine whether our people can regain control of our government!"

Prant lifted both hands from the edge of the podium, palms up, as if spreading out a contract that had been torn to shreds by the White House for everyone below to see.

"Now, the Biden administration, which is trying to block the news, wants to cover up the truth."

"Many, many people have been brutally beaten and thrown into prison just for talking about the Space Fleet over the Hoover Dam last night, or for discussing the invasion by the Aliens' flying saucers."

"Why would the Biden administration do this?"

"Why would an Alien fleet invade Earth?"

"How does the Deep State possess two hundred thousand Space Fleet vessels? And how do they possess such trans-era technology?"

He paused and moved the microphone closer to himself. The crowd was so quiet that one could hear the low engine roar of military vehicles heading south on a distant highway.

"Honestly, I don't know."

"But one thing is not hard to guess."

"This matter concerns the life and death of all of humanity."

"Yet the Biden administration ignores the life and death of all humanity, blindly blocking, blocking, blocking the truth... just for the sake of political stability, just so he can successfully be elected as the next president."

"As for the life and death of all humanity... honestly, he doesn't seem to care."

A roar of anger and booing, louder than before, erupted from the crowd. Someone threw an empty mineral water bottle toward the base of the stage, where it hit the metal railing and bounced off.

Prant raised his hand to press down on the volume, and continued, his tone shifting gradually from indignation to an extremely low, solemn, and raspy voice.

"I know what I am doing right now."

"Offending those in power and the establishment has never ended well."

"There are far too many people who were shot in the back and labeled as suicides."

When he said this, his voice suddenly dropped in volume, as if he were speaking heart-to-heart with the people below.

"Honestly, I shouldn't be speaking for you, and I shouldn't be speaking out for you."

"I have a fortune of tens of billions of dollars; I should have been enjoying my golden years, but I did this anyway."

"Risking having my whole family 'suicided'."

"Why?"

He released his right hand from the podium, turned slightly, and placed it gently over his left chest.

"Because I love this land deeply! I love this country deeply!"

"The Lighthouse Country has given me so much, allowing me to earn tens of billions of dollars! How could I not love her?!"

"And now, I choose to stand up, risking my whole family being 'suicided', which is exactly how I repay my motherland!"

When he said these last few words, his tone was so plain it didn't sound like a speech. The sound sank slowly above the open venue through the simple speakers, and was then swallowed by the cheers from the crowd, until he used that one sentence carved into everyone's spine to press all the commotion of the venue back into a heavy silence.

"If you elect me, after I become president, I will declassify all information related to the Aliens!"

"I will release the video footage from above the Hoover Dam last night!"

"I will release all information on the Deep State!"

"I will order an investigation to clarify the true intent of those two thousand Alien flying saucers attacking Earth!"

"I am doing this for this country! For the people of this country!"

"And also so that the civilization of all humanity is not completely destroyed by a sleepyhead, a sleepyhead named Biden!"

He paused for half a beat, then hammered it out word by word.

"At the same time, I will also make America great again!"

"Make America Great Again!"

The crowd below, the very instant those syllables broke through the range of the speakers, ignited completely!

Everyone was shouting the same word: MAGA!

Not shouting, but roaring! People roared until their throats split, unable to stop. That same slogan turned into a wave of sound, crashing repeatedly like rolling thunder above the rally venue.

Some threw their hats into the air, some jumped in place while holding up signs, and some were covered in tears.

Then, everyone heard that sound at the same time.

It wasn't the low-frequency hum of the speakers on the podium, nor the residual echo of the crowd's shouting; it was the low roar of heavy diesel engines, the dense metallic clashing of tank treads crushing the concrete road.

Armored vehicles and tanks rolled in from both flanks of the rally venue simultaneously. The sides of the forest of armor plating were painted with the insignia of the National Guard. Vehicle-mounted searchlights illuminated the crowd, who were still waving signs and jumping while shouting slogans, turning them into rows of figures frozen in place, with nowhere to hide.