Chapter 563 - 64: Just Want to Be a Butterfly_2
Juan, a reliable guide tested by the "organization," followed the sailors out to sea.
While in the detainment room, Juan suspected that this ship didn’t need sails to travel. This time, following Sunday, he confirmed his guess—
Even without raising the sails, this gigantic "monster," made of a substantial amount of steel, could cut through the waves after emitting a familiar roar, cruising in the vast ocean.
Moreover, its speed was on par with sailing ships. After a process akin to "accumulating strength," the ship would gradually gain speed, which indeed seemed incredible.
Juan was very curious about what was below the deck, making such a constant roaring noise. He wondered if it was a giant sea beast or some sort of machine.
However, Juan was not a craftsman. In this era, where steam engines hadn’t appeared, his thoughts could only lean towards gunpowder.
Juan speculated that there must be a row of giant cannons at the bottom of the ship. As the ship sailed, several sailors continuously loaded gunpowder barrels into the cannons and ignited them.
The immense thrust generated by the gunpowder enabled the ship to travel quickly, which was also why the ship was constructed with steel.
A wooden hull couldn’t withstand the power of gunpowder and could easily catch fire, making it unsafe.
Of course, Juan’s guessing could only remain in his heart. Sunday didn’t allow him to leave his sight, nor did he take him to observe the engine room.
To Juan, how this ship moved remained an unsolved mystery.
...
After landing, Sunday didn’t immediately dig for the treasure.
Firstly, the treasure was buried at a fixed location and wouldn’t grow legs and run away, so there was no need to rush.
Secondly, they didn’t have enough manpower. It would take a lot of time to dig up the treasure and transport it to the shore, then use small boats to move it to the Steel Bone.
Moreover, this time on the island, they planned to take not just the treasure but also various supplies left at the sailors’ temporary residence, including spices, wine, clothing, and canvas—resources much needed on the island.
Thirdly, Sunday still kept in mind the Great Tribe on the island that had been dispersed.
The leader of the Great Tribe, Lisoben, was treated the same as the Spaniards, locked in a concrete cell. He was probably lying on the concrete floor sleeping now.
And Lisoben’s loyal subordinates were almost all killed or injured in yesterday’s conflict.
A large number of those remaining in the tribe were taken away. The ones left did not have enough self-protection capability and were in a precarious position, with grudges against neighboring tribes.
Chen Zhou specifically instructed that people are more precious than gold and silver, especially the adult workforce on the island.
In this world, with steamships and cannons, money could be obtained by piracy on the seas or by "borrowing" from neighbors, but people were different.
It took at least fifteen or sixteen years to develop a workable labor force from birth, so every indigenous person in the Archipelago was extremely precious.
To Chen Zhou, the treasure was indeed useful, but that would have to wait until the challenge was over and he returned to the modern world.
Currently, labor was still the most needed resource on the Big Island, especially indigenous labor that lacked clear beliefs and was untainted by culture, like a blank slate upon which Chen Zhou could imprint his mark through education.
As for the Spaniards or British, or Dutch, although they were smarter and more knowledgeable than the indigenous people,
it was precisely because they were smart that Chen Zhou didn’t trust them.
Knowing too much leads to a desire to possess knowledge, and coincidentally, the knowledge on the island was so astonishing. Chen Zhou didn’t want such epoch-defining technology to spread too early in the world.
He regarded himself as a butterfly, lightly fluttering its wings over the world, rather than a whirlwind that overturns heaven and earth.
Since he arrived in this world and started acquainting himself with its unfamiliar matters, Chen Zhou had never regarded it as an illusion or a place akin to a game instance.
He hoped that after his departure, this world wouldn’t fall into endless wars and destruction due to the "Pandora’s Box" he left behind.
Therefore, within a controllable range, he would strive to gain more benefits for himself but wouldn’t excessively pursue wealth to drag the whole world into war —
This was what he came to understand in the early hours of this morning.
Although when he responded "to participate in the challenge," he didn’t expect the Space-Time Administration Bureau to actually exist, honestly, he was indeed tempted by that so-called 720,000.
Now, not to mention 720,000, even 72 million was within reach, and Chen Zhou couldn’t even think of how to squander this huge sum when he returned to the modern era.
He recalled chatting with older generations back home about those corrupt officials embezzling billions or even tens of billions, hundreds of billions, and the elders always said, "What’s the point of hoarding so much money? You can’t spend it all. With food, drink, a house, and a car, wouldn’t you live well in this lifetime?"
Chen Zhou had never lived the life of a rich person. He used to feel this was a kind of regret, but in this half night of contemplations in his office, he was somewhat glad not to be wealthy.
Perhaps with more possessions comes greater greed. Although he had never owned wealth, he also didn’t have a strong desire for money.
At least for now, Chen Zhou was willing to exchange a 65-pound golden statue for Lai Fu’s ten years of life. He hoped this companion, who had been with him from the beginning, could continue to live until he truly left this world.
...
Sunday was different from Chen Zhou.
After facing a difficult choice, Chen Zhou chose to give up on plundering this world’s wealth by any means necessary, but Sunday lacked any desire for money from the start.
The world of the indigenous people only involved bartering. Currency was a completely foreign concept to them, a pure mindset far more reliable than Kilian’s schemes to place spies to monitor the sailors.
Chen Zhou didn’t have to worry about Sunday embezzling his treasures. Sunday remained as loyal as ever, handling important matters in an orderly manner.
Perhaps due to the island’s isolated news and infrequent inter-tribe interactions, despite the heavy blow to the Great Tribe yesterday, no other tribes took action today.
The center of the former Great Tribe was the residential area of elite warriors, where the most robust shelters of the entire tribe were built.
Now, with the leader captured and the indigenous warriors either dead or escaped, the other indigenous people who originally lived at the bottom moved into the small houses one after another, and one brave soul even occupied the leader’s room.
Seeing the indigenous people live a better life was something Sunday was happy to witness.
However, another scene within the tribe filled him with fury —
The indigenous warriors killed by gunfire yesterday were mostly carried back to the tribe by these people and became their food for survival.
Over a hundred corpses were piled in a corner of the tribe, all naked, their skin stained with dirt and blood, forming a small hill exuding the scent of death.
Even the well-accustomed cannibal Sunday found this sight shocking.
Juan, who had killed quite a few Inca warriors, was a man with a resilient temperament. Yet upon seeing the dismembered dead, smelling the intense iron of blood and the stench of organs, his legs weakened, forcing him to lean against a tree and vomit.
"Cannibalism" had consistently been forbidden in the education of the Big Island, and Chen Zhou never masked his aversion to such behavior.
With the influence of Chen Zhou, who was like a son to him, Sunday also developed an extreme loathing for such acts, often reflecting on his past actions deep into the night.
In a fit of rage, he led the sailors to drive everyone out of the tribe’s center, gathering them to identify the mastermind who suggested carrying the corpses for consumption.
Sunday originally thought that such a significant decision should be dominated by someone of high status, but unexpectedly, the "mastermind" identified by the indigenous people was a skinny young boy.
Woken from sleep, the boy groggily carried a roasted human leg bone in his hand as he walked to the tribe’s center, with congealed bloodstains on his dark skin.
His eyes reflected the morning light, shining brightly, yet there was only a hunger for food and fear of starvation.
Looking at the boy’s protruding ribs, Sunday recalled his own beginnings and that of Saturday when they were first rescued.
Clutching his long spear tightly, even though his chest was burning with anger, he didn’t know how to vent it.
"Should I blame this young boy, or should I blame this island that survives on human flesh?"
Sunday pondered.
With his lips tightly sealed, he ultimately swallowed the words "take him away and execute him," turning it into a deep sigh.