Chapter 551 - 58: Rabble_2
If shot, it’s either death or disability.
"We can’t let them keep advancing.
If they continue, they’ll soon bring us into range, and when the fight starts, there might be casualties."
Estimating the distance to the Spaniards, Sunday thought silently.
...
"All hands, be on alert!
Attention, about 300 meters to the northwest, enemies have appeared, they’re Spaniards, and they have matchlock guns."
He shared the intelligence he had gathered with the sailors in advance, seeing their faces filled with tension.
Sunday reassured them with a few words, explaining once again the advantages the Chen Family rifles had over the matchlock guns, boosting the sailors’ confidence, and then arranged the next action—
The sailor with the best marksmanship climbed the trees with the protection of the other team members, occupying higher ground, and aimed in advance at the advancing Spaniards.
At Sunday’s command, they would launch their attack.
However, in the first round of attack, the sailors wouldn’t directly kill the eight Spaniards but would shoot the bullets around them to warn them—
You’ve entered our range, so it’s best not to resist without reason, as it won’t benefit you at all.
To shoot a matchlock gun, a series of tedious and obvious preparations are required.
With him monitoring, as long as the Spaniards dared to engage recklessly, he dared to take their lives.
Everyone is relatively "civilized" people.
Sunday believed that as long as the Spaniards had some awareness of firearms as a weapon, they wouldn’t give him more lives to take.
...
The agile sailors had already climbed the trees and set up their guns on sturdy branches, quietly awaiting the enemy.
Meanwhile, the Spaniards were still completely unaware of the enemy’s movements—
They thought that the outsiders were still waiting on the hilltop, waiting for them to launch an attack.
Upon leaving the gathering place, the Spaniards forgot to bring the "female interpreter," which led to their complete inability to understand the Tribe Leader’s words, having to rely on guessing through his gestures.
Yet mere guessing couldn’t possibly make them aware of the fearsome nature of the sailors’ weapons.
Even if they guessed, they wouldn’t believe it—
In the age of navigation, the world’s most advanced technologies were all related to seafaring, and in their prosperous homeland, the Spaniards had seen many miraculous weapons.
But even the most advanced firearms among them had a significant distance from the Chen Family rifles.
In the course of history, this gap would take nearly 400 years to bridge.
The power born from such a long period of technological evolution, whether it be the arrogant maritime raiders or the most humble artisans, would likely meet with skepticism.
...
The Spaniards were confident, and Lisoben, who knew nothing about firearms, couldn’t tell which of the two groups of outsiders was more formidable.
An ant cannot understand the distance between an elephant and a dog; in its eyes, both an elephant and a dog are colossal beasts capable of crushing it with one step.
After meticulously gesturing a pile of signals and seeing the Spaniards with a look of "I understand," Lisoben ceased attempting to communicate.
Now, he felt much more at ease, only wishing to return to the tribe and continue his role as Leader.
As for the tribe’s future following this battle, he hadn’t thought about it, nor did he dare to.
He only wanted more wine, those slightly spicy liquids that could let him forget the past, forget troubles and pain, and indulge in a dreamlike Celestial Kingdom.
Compared to a nebulous God, perhaps the Celestial Kingdom after drinking is the genuine eternal land of happiness in this world.
...
Impatiently, Havier hacked away the tree branches obstructing his way, casually scratched his messy hair, and cursed uncleanly at the Tribe Leader crouching humbly beside him.
Ever since coming to this island to guard treasure, he hadn’t comfortably bathed.
The indigenous women initially seemed okay, but as time passed, he increasingly missed the exotic blonde waitresses in his hometown taverns.
The loot from the Inca Empire had only two batches left; in half a year, he could leave this cursed place and return home, only to encounter such trouble.
Thinking of this, anger boiled within Havier.
"Getting involved with these damned natives has never ended well, should’ve killed them all from the start.
I’ve long said, Kilian is a stupid pig; any idea he comes up with impulsively is naturally not a good one."
Havier’s chopping intensified, as if the branches before him were Kilian himself.
A Spanish sailor trailing him tired of hearing his tirade, lightly reminded him.
"Without these natives, you’d have to catch fish yourself, cook for yourself, wash your clothes yourself, and you’d have nothing fun at night.
I recall you were quite raucous in your room yesterday.
What, already losing your touch so soon?"
"Juan, I know you’re Kilian’s dog.
But you don’t have to be so loyal, guarding the house for him even when he’s gone. No matter how much good you say, he won’t give you an extra Gold Coin.
You all fear him, but I, Havier, don’t.
I’m speaking plainly, even if Kilian was here, I’d say the same thing about him!"
Havier dropped the Long Saber, turned to face Juan, and shouted at him.
He was tall, with scruffy stubble, and due to prolonged smoking and infrequent brushing, he revealed a mouthful of yellow teeth when speaking.
Feeling agitated, his foul-smelling saliva even splattered onto Juan’s face, causing the latter to show a disgusted expression.
"Stop arguing, let’s first reach the place and see what’s going on..."
Sensing that these two who usually did not get along were about to argue, another Spanish sailor quickly stepped in as a mediator.
The sudden outbreak of quarrel forced the advancing Spanish team to stop.
Beside them, Lisoben stood naked, not knowing why these men suddenly looked ready to fight.
Still thinking about the aftermath after dealing with those outsiders, he dared not speak and quietly took two steps back, waiting for the farce to end.
...
The Spanish sailors had not expected that stubborn mule Havier to truly act up today.
Others had been able to persuade him in the past, but today this guy took a stand like nobody could control him, insisting on confronting Juan.
He never put the Long Saber down, and his attitude toward Juan gradually shifted from verbal bickering to shoving, even repeatedly raising his fists, attempting to settle things through violence.
Living as friends on the isolated island, other Spaniards couldn’t sit by and let the situation deteriorate, whether by persuading verbally or intervening physically.
The dense forest momentarily erupted into a chaotic mess.
At this moment, none of the quarreling or meddling Spaniards had considered that less than two hundred meters above their heads in the treetops, someone was aiming a gun at their bizarre actions.
Sunday watched the Spaniards’ shoving match with amusement—
The enemies he regarded with great caution, treating with utmost respect, turned out to be this kind, unsure whether he should feel grateful or sad for these people.
Of course, poor enemy discipline was a good thing, no doubt.
After coughing to alert all the sailors in the trees to heed his command, Sunday raised his hand.
All eyes of the sailors focused on Sunday.
In a brief silence, Sunday suddenly swung down his hand.
...
Havier had already gained the upper hand in the dispute.
Though angry, he hadn’t lost his mind, not once raising the hand holding the sword, continually using the free hand to grasp Juan’s collar, wanting to drag the shorty before him.
The other sailors’ attempts to dissuade not only failed to make him realize his misconduct but instead brought him a peculiar sense of importance, as if he were the center of attention.
Just as he intended to use the outing as a pretext to escalate matters further, a crisp sound suddenly rang from afar.
Bam! Bam! Bam...
Immediately, he saw the robust tree trunks in front of him explode apart, hearing the terrifying sounds of bullets whizzing past his body, and saw clouds of dust erupting across the leaf-covered forest floor.
"Ambush!"
A terrifying word flashed in his mind, and he instinctively shoved the companion beside him and sprinted towards the nearest cover.