Make France Great Again-Chapter 192: The President Assassination Case

After Jerome Bonaparte’s iron-willed restructuring, the Paris market was once again filled with confidence in this iron-blooded president.

On the afternoon of December 16, corpses were transported to Bastille Square for "exhibition."

Together with the bodies came individuals who looked like living corpses with disheveled hair... Well! Let us temporarily call them people.

Bastille Square, the "birthplace" of the French Republic, not only drew a group of disheveled people, but also welcomed a brand-new "gallows."

The gallows, loaded on a small cart, was pushed to the center of Bastille Square by four soldiers.

The dark, slanted blade suspended by a rope shimmered in the sunlight, exuding a chilling and murderous aura that made the citizens surrounding Bastille Square feel a chill.

These prisoners, who could have been executed dozens of times without a Supreme Court trial, would end their lives on the gallows.

To demonstrate the necessity of the judicial process and maintain its dignity, Jerome Bonaparte decided to set up a temporary court here.

The judge responsible for the trial was Minister of Justice Eugène Roué.

Wearing a judge’s robe, Eugène Roué stood before the gallows, glanced at it, then at the Parisians held at bay by the soldiers. A mix of fear and excitement flooded his body, causing Eugène Roué to shout with vigorous energy, "Bring the prisoner Freelu!"

The prisoner, with his hands bound, trembled uncontrollably when he heard Eugène Roué call his name.

Although he had long anticipated the possibility of facing judgment, be it a physical or a moral trial, when the judgment truly came upon him, the prisoner couldn’t suppress his inner terror.

A chill surged from the prisoner’s groin, and the sharp-eyed Parisians quickly noticed the droplets beneath the prisoner’s pants.

"Wet himself! Haha!"

The Parisians burst into hearty laughter.

"No! No! You can’t do this to me!"

As the prisoner screamed hoarsely, a black bag was placed over his head.

The prisoner, bagged, instantly went limp on the ground. A few soldiers disdainfully looked at the wetness beneath him, frowning as they carried him to the gallows.

"Prisoner Freelu!" Eugène Roué listed all the prisoner’s crimes, including but not limited to murder, abducting women, and forcing them into prostitution.

Finally, Eugène Roué uttered a light "sentenced to death!"

"Good!" The Parisians present cheered again.

Freelu’s neck was placed on the gallows.

"God bless! God bless!" Bound in the bag, Freelu could only close his trembling body and pray for God’s blessing.

The slanted blade swiftly sliced through Freelu’s neck, and blood gushed forth like a spring, shooting several meters and almost splattering the onlookers.

The decapitated body convulsed on the ground for a moment, spilling blood, while the black bag covering the head also faintly showed red.

Some in Bastille Square showed fear on their faces, others shouted in excitement.

However, none of this concerned Eugène Roué. Under his orders, soldiers casually discarded Freelu’s body and head onto a cart.

Then came the execution of the next prisoner, whose process was roughly the same as Freelu’s, though he was slightly tougher.

There was no pleading or argument during the trial, but he still could not escape death.

The blood of the latter prisoner covered the blood of the former, turning the ground of Bastille Square gradually dark red.

As more heads fell beneath the slanted blade, the blade became stained with red blood, exuding an even more murderous aura.

After all the prisoners were executed, Eugène Roué and the gallows withdrew.

Under the watchful eyes of the Parisians, Jerome Bonaparte appeared. He cleared his throat and said in a low tone, "Anytime the gangs need to be eradicated; it must be done! You’re walking the streets with your wife at night, and suddenly are harassed by gangsters trying to take your wife and beat you... Thus, a life without gangs is a good life!"

As soon as Jerome Bonaparte’s words fell, hidden supporters of the Bonaparte Party quickly responded, saying "Good."

Evil people deserve to die, that is the common belief of ordinary people.

They likewise shouted in waves for Jerome Bonaparte.

At that moment, a flintlock pistol was quietly drawn from the crowd, its owner aiming at Jerome Bonaparte.

"Bang!" ƒгeewebnovёl_com

The sound of the gunshot froze everyone’s expressions instantly.

"Luckily," this shot did not hit Jerome Bonaparte, but rather the ground beside him.

"Quick! Protect the president!" Eugène Roué shouted loudly.

The soldiers hurried to surround Jerome Bonaparte tightly.

"Do not spare the assassin!" Jerome Bonaparte, protected by layers of soldiers, also issued an order.

The soldiers were divided into two groups: one was responsible for ensuring Jerome Bonaparte’s safety, and the other was tasked with capturing the assassin.

At this moment, the assassin did not flee. Watching the soldiers closing in, he swallowed a pill and died.

Jerome Bonaparte, escorted by Eugène Roué, arrived at the most loyal Elysee Palace.

Eugène Roué followed Jerome Bonaparte’s orders and headed to the Ministry of War.

At that time, the Minister of War Renio and Secretary of State Saint Arno were discussing the situation in the Near East.

Seeing Eugène Roué burst into the meeting room, both Minister Renio and Saint Arno were stunned.

Before Minister Renio could react, Eugène Roué said to him, "Minister Renio, please declare a state of martial law! Someone attempted to assassinate the President!"

Minister Renio looked at Eugène Roué nervously and asked anxiously, "What about the President? How is the President doing?"

"The assassin’s gun did not hit the President, the President is not seriously injured! Currently at the Elysee Palace!" Eugène Roué’s words brought relief to Renio.

If anything had happened to the President, they would have been doomed.

"There’s no time to lose, I’ll immediately sign the state of martial law!" Minister Remio returned to his office and signed the martial law decree at once.

The decree required the Paris First Division to move the remaining troops to Paris to maintain order, while the National Guard corps were not to act without orders.

Once signed, the martial law decree was delivered at full speed to General Shang Jia’nie, the head of the Paris First Division.

"Paris First Division entering the city?" General Shang Jia’nie looked solemn as he received the martial law decree from his "colleague" at the Ministry of War, responsible for delivering the message.

"General Shang Jia’nie, the President is in danger, quickly take over the defense of Paris!" Lieutenant Colonel Trocch, acting as the messenger, urged.

"What? The President is in danger!" Shang Jia’nie’s face changed dramatically, and he hurriedly inquired about the President’s condition.

After Trocch explained the President’s situation to Shang Jia’nie, Shang Jia’nie swiftly deployed the remaining three brigades to move into Paris.

The entire Paris seemed to enter a state of turmoil again under the martial law issued by Minister Renio.

The chief engineer, who refused to obey Minister Renio on usual days, was directly dismissed and sent home to receive a pension, replaced by Brigadier General Nie’er.

Personnel Chief Lundes also defected to Minister Renio.

Utilizing the momentum of the martial law, Minister Renio, who had the dual control of personnel and logistics under the Bonaparte Faction, no longer needed to worry about Shang Jia’nie, but without an explicit order from the President, Renio was also reluctant to easily dismiss him.

On December 17, after half a day of meticulous investigation by Police Chief Kalie, something valuable was finally found on the corpse.

"President! After our investigation, we found that the assassin is likely associated with the Rothschild Clan!" Kalie said to Jerome Bonaparte.

"What is the reason?" Jerome Bonaparte asked calmly.

"Because the deceased was part of the Orleans Gang, and the Orleans Gang recently received a sum of unknown origin. After our thorough investigation, we discovered the source of the funds was the Rothschild Clan!" Kalie explained to Jerome Bonaparte.

"The Rothschild Clan? Why would they do such a thing?" Jerome Bonaparte frowned and asked.

Kalie remained silent; James Rothschild was not someone they could afford to provoke.

"In that case, do not show any mercy! Arrest James Rothschild on charges of attempted murder of the President!" Jerome Bonaparte instructed Kalie.

"Yes!" Kalie responded to Jerome Bonaparte.

"Wait!" Jerome Bonaparte stopped Kalie.

Seeing Kalie’s puzzled expression, Jerome Bonaparte responded, "Better call the army to act together!"

At this moment, James Rothschild, under house arrest, was leisurely lying on a garden chair. The attempted assassination of Jerome Bonaparte made him feel as if a mysterious hand was aiding him.

It’s a pity that the shot missed!

James Rothschild regretted that the gunman had not killed Jerome Bonaparte.

Now, he was bound hand and foot by the government of France, relying only on the assistance of other branches of the Rothschild Clan to break free.

"Sir! Trouble, sir!" The Baron’s steward hurriedly approached Baron James Rothschild.

Baron James Rothschild frowned and said displeasedly, "What’s happened?"

"Sir, a group of soldiers is heading this way!" The Baron’s steward reported immediately.

"What’s there to fear! The President can’t possibly kill me!"

Having experienced three dynasties, James Rothschild sat confidently in his rocking chair with his eyes closed, resting.

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