novelSusiti Chapter 72: Reaching Level 11 and Honolulu
Chapter 72: Reaching Level 11 and Honolulu
Chapter 72: Reaching Level 11 and Honolulu
Norton stood on the gentle slope, looking at the scene before him, his face ashen.
His artillery is finished.
His cavalry is being strangled.
His infantry—
More than a thousand infantrymen had already formed several rows and were advancing towards the Native American lines.
This is the tactic they are most familiar with.
They marched in neat formation, steadily advancing to the beat of drums, firing a volley when they were 100 meters from the enemy, and finally ending the battle with a bayonet charge.
At this moment, the infantry had taken advantage of the enemy's firing on the artillery and cavalry to quickly advance to within a few hundred meters of the Indian front line and were about to open fire.
But the other side has weapons that can fire continuously.
"Stop advancing!"
Norton's mind raced, and he shouted, "Spread out in skirmish lines! Don't huddle together!"
But it was too late.
The ten machine guns in front of the Indians began to turn and aim at the advancing American infantry.
"Da da da da da————"
A hail of bullets sprayed from the muzzle of the gun.
The American soldiers in the first rank fell down like wheat after being cut by a sickle.
The soldiers in the second rank tried to return fire, but desperately discovered that the distance between them was far beyond the range of their weapons.
Meanwhile, the Native American artillery, having dealt with the Perfect Army artillery, also changed targets.
The shells whistled and crashed down among the American infantry. Each explosion and shrapnel spray took the lives of a dozen or even dozens of American soldiers.
The Indian infantry directly in front also opened fire at the same time. The bullets fired from their guns easily traveled hundreds of meters and entered the soldiers' bodies, leaving behind sprays of blood.
Within minutes, the bodies covered the entire plain.
Faced with such terrifying killing efficiency, the American soldiers broke down.
They scattered and fled, some running east, some running west, and some simply lying on the ground pretending to be dead.
Norton stood motionless, staring at the hellish scene before him.
It’s over.
It's all over.
1,800 men, 12 cannons, and that was it—
"Get out, get out of here!" McCarthy shouted hoarsely.
"Colonel, let's go!" Several guards rushed over and pulled the two men back.
Norton was dragged onto a horse and fled in the direction they had come from.
Behind them, the Native American cavalry came galloping after them with strange cries.
The sound of horses' hooves thundered, like the drumbeats of death, as they began their pursuit of the defeated remnants.
Norton had no idea how long he had been running.
Ten minutes? Twenty minutes?
The screams behind me gradually subsided, until only the sound of horses' hooves and the rapid breathing beside me remained.
When he finally reined in his horse and looked back, he could no longer see the pursuers behind him.
He was panting as he began to count the people around him.
Less than thirty.
"What about McCarthy?" Norton asked.
"I'm here."
McCarthy emerged from the woods not far behind him, looking disheveled.
"Norton, what do we do now?"
Norton gave a wry smile, his face showing fear: "What can we do? We can only evacuate to San Francisco or even back to Oregon."
Those Native Americans were too well-equipped; without overwhelming force, even ten times their size, we simply couldn't have won!
Just then, the sound of horses' hooves suddenly came from ahead.
A group of people, like startled birds, looked warily ahead.
A group of people appeared on the hillside ahead.
The group, numbering several hundred, dressed in uniform and carrying rifles, stood in neat rows, silently blocking their path.
In the center of the procession, a flag fluttered in the wind.
It was a red flag with a black dragon embroidered on it, its claws outstretched.
Norton didn't recognize the flag.
But he recognized the look in those people's eyes.
That's the look a hunter gives his prey.
His indifference carried a hint of mockery, much like how he had looked at the surrounded Native Americans back then.
McCarthy exclaimed incredulously, "Qing Dynasty men? What are they doing here?"
No one answered them.
The troops on the hillside had already raised their guns.
"Fire."
Half an hour later, the two teams met.
"how?"
Jianyuan looked at Chongyue who had arrived, dismounted, and asked with a smile, "How many white people did you kill?"
Chongyue also dismounted and said, "There were five or six hundred who died on the spot, and I don't know how many were killed later, but I estimate that quite a few escaped."
Jian Yuan chuckled: "Don't worry about the San Francisco direction. I brought several hundred Xinghantang people with me this time, and I've scattered them along various roads leading to San Francisco."
"As long as those white people don't know how to use seventy-two transformations, they won't escape my grasp."
3
Chongyue nodded and said, "Okay, I will have my men focus their search on other directions."
Chinatown.
Several days later, the system upgrade interface popped up in front of Zeng Tai again.
【Name: Life for Life System】
[Host: Zeng Tai]
[Level: 11]
[Effect: Automatically generates 1,024 elite assassins daily, whose physical strength is 2.1 times that of a normal adult Homo sapiens male.]
Current number of assassins: 12916
Number of summonable assassins: 1024
[Upgrade Requirements: Kill 2048 humans (1365/2048)]
[Currently Unlocked Sub-items]:
[Hive Consciousness]: You can simultaneously access information perceived by all your subordinates and communicate telepathically. With your permission, all your subordinates can form a communication sub-network and achieve long-distance communication.
[The dead fear death]: ————
[Warspace Teleportation]: ————
[Thirst for knowledge]: --
[Exquisite craftsmanship]: ————
[Practicing medicine to help the world]: --
Strategic Planning: ————
Lord of Humanity: ————
[Angel of Death]: You may choose to summon a suicide soldier with this trait. Suicide soldiers with this trait will be proficient in all forms of combat and are natural-born tactical and strategic masters. The cost is that it occupies four summoning slots.
"1024, I like this number."
Zeng Tai whistled and continued watching.
[Please choose whether to unlock a new sub-skill or upgrade an existing one.]
After thinking about it, Zeng Tai decided to upgrade his existing skills.
We already have many skills, so why not upgrade and improve their quality?
The upgraded Hive Consciousness has had a very good effect. With multiple lines of communication established, the assassins can communicate faster and cooperate better.
"Upgrade [Warspace Teleportation]."
Select "Confirm".
[Sub-skill has been upgraded]
[Original effect: You can place newly summoned zombies next to existing zombies.]
[New effect: After consuming a certain number of summoning slots, you can instantly teleport the summoned assassins and their equipment to the side of another assassin.]
Consumable quota = Total mass (kg) / 100
New lines of explanatory text appeared.
Zeng Tai was stunned.
"What do you mean by instantly teleporting a summoned assassin and its equipment to another assassin's side? Is this some kind of subspace?"
"Does this equipment include hand-held rifles and revolvers, or does it also include machine guns, cannons, and even warships?"
Faced with Zeng Tai's barrage of questions, the system remained silent.
"Well, I guess I'll have to figure it out myself."
He pursed his lips and directly contacted the artillery crew located in the Central Valley.
The battle was over, and the artillery crew was cleaning the cannons and moving ammunition when they suddenly heard Zeng Tai's voice in their minds.
"You guys, don't move yet. Move all the shells and stuff next to the cannon."
The artillery crew exchanged glances, then excitedly replied, "Yes, sir!"
With a thought, Zeng Tai used [Subspace Teleportation] on the artillery crew.
[Does this use up 26 slots to teleport the artillery crew members to the general at the Chinatown Armory?]
Sure enough!
Zeng Tai's eyes lit up, and he replied without hesitation, "Yes!"
In the blink of an eye, the artillery units on the edge of the central valley disappeared, leaving only a mark left by the cannons.
"Holy shit?"
"Holy shit!"
The two artillery crew members next to him were stunned when they saw the man. They rubbed their eyes several times. One of them slapped himself hard, wincing in pain, before he dared to believe what he was seeing. He immediately contacted Jianyuan.
"Brother Jianyuan, we've seen a ghost in broad daylight! Old Chen and his men have vanished, along with their cannons!"
Jian Yuan, who was allocating manpower, paused for a moment, then realized what had happened: "Don't panic, it must be that the lord is doing some kind of experiment. You can continue with your own tasks."
North Pacific.
The sea and sky blend into one, an endless expanse of azure.
The Wind Chaser cleaved through the waves, its mythical beast-headed logo facing the sea breeze. The Wavebreaker followed closely behind, the two ships no more than two hundred meters apart.
Yung Wing stood on the deck, facing the sea breeze, and took a deep breath of the salty, fishy air.
"Mr. Rong!" a voice called from behind.
He turned around and saw Hongwu striding towards him.
"Mr. Hong." Rong Hong nodded to Hong Wu.
"Hawaii is just ahead," Hongwu said, pointing to the distant horizon. "In about two hours, we'll be able to see the harbor of Honolulu."
Rong Hong looked in the direction he was pointing.
On the horizon, a faint blue hue can be seen – the silhouette of an island.
"Finally, we can reach the shore." Rong Hong exhaled a breath of stale air, a rare smile appearing on his face. "How long will we be staying there?"
Hongwu thought for a moment and said, "A day or two. We need to replenish some fresh water and buy some fresh fruits and vegetables so that the brothers can go ashore and stretch their legs."
Rong Hong nodded.
Two hours passed quickly.
As the Wind Chaser and Wave Chaser slowly entered Honolulu Harbor, it was already evening, and the setting sun dyed the entire harbor golden.
The port is small, but it's very lively.
Several whaling ships were anchored in the harbor, their hulls covered in filth and emitting a fishy stench.
There were also five or six merchant ships flying different national flags.
The docks were bustling with people: natives, businessmen in suits, shirtless sailors, and a few white men in missionary robes.
Led by local boats, the two ships slowly approached the dock, and the sailors threw out ropes, which were then secured to wooden stakes by dock workers.
As the gangway reached the dock, Yung Wing disembarked, the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet making him momentarily disoriented.
After more than ten days of shaking, he was somewhat unaccustomed to this stability.
He leaned against the wooden posts of the dock, took a few deep breaths, and finally caught his breath.
"Mr. Rong, I'm leaving the purchasing to you. Remember to bring plenty of manpower."
Hongwu also disembarked, his complexion normal, showing no signs of dizziness. "I'll go to the port to pay the pilotage fee and dock fees."
Yung Wing nodded and accepted the task, leading a dozen or so sailors deeper into the harbor.
Honolulu is not large; a main street runs north to south, lined with wooden houses on both sides.
There were shops, taverns, inns, and a few warehouses. The streets weren't crowded, but they were teeming with all sorts of people—natives, whites, blacks—and Yung Wing even spotted a few Chinese sailors.
Indigenous women set up stalls along the street, selling coconuts, bananas, and other fruits he didn't recognize. Several children chased each other barefoot in the street, their laughter ringing out.
He walked up to a grocery store, intending to go in and take a look, when he suddenly heard a commotion not far away.
"Hey, you country bumpkin, get out of here!"
"Hahaha, look at that stupid face!"
Rong Hong frowned and looked in the direction of the sound.
Not far away, three white sailors were surrounding an elderly native.
The old man sat on the ground, with a coconut stand behind him, and was dragging a white man by the leg, refusing to let them leave.
"You haven't paid me yet," the old man pleaded in broken English.
The sailors sneered, and one of them kicked the old man in the chest, sending him rolling backward.
"Pay up?" a sailor spat. "You bastard, I'm doing you a favor by eating your coconut!"
Another sailor picked up a coconut from the ground, tossed it around in his hand, and then smashed it hard on the ground. The coconut shell shattered, and coconut juice spilled all over the ground.
"If you don't get out of here, I guarantee your head will be as big as this coconut!"
The old man stared at the broken coconut, his lips trembling, unable to utter a word.
Everyone around watched, but no one stepped forward. A few natives walked by with their heads down, while a few white men stood in the distance, laughing and pointing, as if watching a good show.
Rong Hong clenched his fists.
He took a deep breath and strode over.
"stop!"
The three sailors turned around and saw a well-dressed Chinese man wearing glasses. They immediately showed disdainful smiles.
"Hey, where did this Qing bug come from?" The lead sailor stepped forward provocatively. "What, trying to meddle in other people's business?"
Rong Hong looked at him coldly.
"He's just an old man selling coconuts, why are you going so far as to bully him?"
"This is outrageous!" the sailor laughed, turning to his companion and saying, "Did you hear that? This 'Qingchong' is teaching us a lesson!"
The other two sailors also laughed.
They gathered around, and then their expressions suddenly changed.
Behind Yung Wing, a dozen or so Chinese assassins who had followed him off the ship also surrounded him.
"Did you enjoy shouting about clearing out insects?"
The Chinese assassin sneered, then punched a white sailor right in the eye socket.
The sailor screamed, but before he could finish, the assassin's knee had already slammed into his abdomen, causing him to curl up like a shrimp.
"Brothers, beat these three sons of bitches!"
Before the other two sailors could react, the remaining assassins pounced on them, raining blows with their fists and feet.
A dozen seconds later, all three sailors collapsed to the ground, groaning softly.
Yung Wing took a money pouch from the sailor's pocket and then stuffed it into the old man's hand.
"Take it and go back."
The old man stared at him blankly, his eyes slightly red. "Thank you, thank you."
On the dock, a dozen or so white sailors saw what had happened, grabbed sticks and shovels, and rushed over, cursing as they went.
"Should we retreat?" Rong Hong asked.
"Mr. Rong, don't worry, they're a bunch of useless people, we can take care of them easily."
"
The Chinese assassin grinned, making no attempt to avoid them, and led his men to meet them.