Chapter 392 - 169: Brave Rebels (Part 3)
As expected, it wasn’t just this warrior who refused to be constrained.
Just when Sunday thought these natives hadn’t heard him clearly and was about to repeat himself, a middle-aged native with pitch-black skin and a face full of wrinkles stood up.
He was one of the few natives who carried metal blades.
The contact with the "Civilized World" gave him some confidence. Holding a metal blade, he believed himself to be far stronger than these two little kids standing in front of him.
He felt it was necessary to properly question these peculiar-looking little things who had suddenly appeared—
What gives you the right to command us? And what gives you the right to represent the will of God?
...
As he rose, the native, feeling his experience and age were enough, instinctively raised the long saber in his hand, as if this could give him some confidence.
No matter how much he usually looked down on those outsiders, looked down on the Leader who cooperated with them.
Deep down, he had to admit that the weapons manufactured by those people who sailed the seas with large ships were indeed formidable, sharper, and sturdier than their Wooden Sabers.
Holding this iron blade seemed to give him endless courage—the courage to question others.
...
In the tribe, brave warriors are respected even if they die in battle.
The warrior with the most wounds, who kills the fastest and charges at the forefront, will be especially honored with a cannibal feast after death.
His brave heart can only be enjoyed by the Leader or the Priest.
And his flesh and blood are the "gifts from God" that only other warriors are entitled to consume.
Influenced by this culture, this native did not find anything wrong with his bravery.
Most of the time, courage certainly isn’t wrong.
Unfortunately, he chose the worst moment.
...
Chen Zhou was well aware that the two youngsters, Saturday and Sunday, certainly couldn’t control the scene, so it was entirely within his expectations that a troublemaker would provoke an incident.
What he anticipated was the emergence of such a troublemaker.
The saying goes, to kill the chicken to scare the monkey. Without someone setting an example, how could the other natives understand the seriousness of the situation and feel a sense of awe?
The crosshair slowly moved into place, framing the head of the native holding the saber.
Chen Zhou wasn’t in a hurry to shoot.
He only intended to keep eight natives, and the number killed so far wasn’t nearly enough.
He decided to wait a bit longer to see if there were any more rebels.
...
As time ticked away, after the first brave "resistor" stood up, two more natives gradually stood up as well.
Due to malnutrition, their stature was nowhere near that of Saturday and Sunday, who had been nourished for over half a year, but their older age made their frames more robust, and standing together, they exuded a certain presence.
...
Under the scrutiny of a dozen pairs of eyes, Saturday inevitably felt a bit nervous, even fearful.
His mind went blank, and in an instant, he forgot all the long-taught lessons of Chen Zhou, instinctively wanting to yield to the seniors and express his apologies to them.
...
Sunday’s reaction was completely different. He felt no compassion or sympathy toward these natives from opposing tribes, let alone fear.
The idea of resisting authority and questioning those in power had never disappeared from his mind since it was conceived, and only a true strongman like Chen Zhou was worthy of his loyalty.
These barbaric and ignorant natives, no matter how brave, only made him feel angry.
Seeing someone stand up to resist, he immediately raised the long saber in his hand and repeated the command for the third time—
This time, his voice was much louder than the previous two times, ensuring all the natives could hear him.