From Robinson Crusoe

The brave, bloodthirsty, and fanatical native warriors crashed against the rocks like a tide, shattering into pieces.

Within a few breaths, more than half of the hundred-plus native warriors fell, while the remaining half completely lost the will to resist, dropped their weapons, and fled in panic.

However, no human speed can compare to that of a bullet. No matter how fast they run, if they don't hide behind cover and are caught in the scope, they will all perish.

The gunfire shattered the natives' lines of defense and destroyed Risobben's confidence.

Standing at the rear, overseeing the battle, he watched helplessly as his loyal elite soldiers fell in droves, and listened to the terrifying thunder that brought about a one-sided massacre.

At that moment, he finally came to his senses and realized that the title of "God's Chosen Warrior" was a lie.

Just as the old priest said, there are no gods in this world, and even if there were, gods would not respond to mortals, nor would they naturally choose warriors to rule the tribe.

Knowing full well that he could not win the conflict, Risobben still had some courage and was not intimidated by the power of the guns.

He turned around and, with the help of his trusted confidants, disappeared into the jungle.

A thick tree trunk can obstruct the enemy's line of sight, withstand enemy attacks, and create an opportunity for him to escape.

Right now, he has one last straw to cling to—

Go find those Spaniards; they are also outsiders. Only those guys temporarily residing on the island could possibly be a match for these enemies.

Risobben understood that, at this point, this conflict was beyond his control.

After this battle, the tribe was severely weakened, with most of its able-bodied warriors lost. In the future, even defending against attacks from other small tribes would be a problem, let alone realizing his dream of unifying the island.

The war of "gods" is something only "gods" can intervene in; it's not a domain that a crawler like him should dabble in.

……

After firing two shots, Sunday put down his weapon and picked up his binoculars again to observe the situation below.

The sailors around them were firing freely. This group of people, who were causing death and injury with firearms for the first time, were all excited and none of them felt panicked.

This is a unique advantage for the indigenous people, as bloodshed and death are common occurrences for them from a young age.

The wounds and splattered blood from hand-to-hand combat couldn't frighten them, so the less visually impactful method of killing—bullets—naturally had no effect on them.

Like children in war-torn regions, influenced by their environment, they have long lost their innocence and have been forced to become tough warriors.

The brutality of the battlefield and the swift loss of life did not frighten them in the slightest. Amidst the continuous gunfire, Sunday could clearly hear the sailors counting their numbers—

"One, two, three..."

The blood of those natives is writing their war exploits.

On Sunday, however, he kept his sights set on the most important target—the tribal chief.

Looking down from above, the situation on the battlefield was very clear. More than 30 corpses were left behind by the more than 100 native warriors during their escape. In the end, only a dozen or so managed to get into the jungle and escape the sailors' pursuit.

Most of these dozen or so people were tribal chiefs and their most loyal guards. They were positioned at the very back, which gave them the first chance to escape.

……

"Catch the thief first and capture the king first."

This was a lesson Chen Zhou taught Sunday, which Sunday further understood based on his own knowledge of the indigenous people—

To achieve victory in one fell swoop, one cannot kill the native chieftain directly on the battlefield.

He must be kept alive so that the people of the tribe can see how their invincible leader was captured alive, and how utterly vulnerable their leader's pride and joy were.

In this way, the survivors in the tribe will put aside their hatred and submit to the more powerful side.

This may seem counterintuitive, but this is how the island's indigenous tribes have always operated for many years.

When a large tribe annexes a small tribe, it does not kill everyone.

Apart from leaders, priests, and warriors loyal to the leader, most underage children and women are spared.

Upon entering the larger tribe, the children would be treated as the lowest class, earning food through physical labor to supply the ordinary members of the tribe, while the women would become breeding machines, either given as rewards to valiant warriors or shared by other natives.

In primitive societies, there weren't many moral codes or distinctions of shame, so no one found it strange, since it was a rule passed down through generations.

Although the new world Chen Zhou created was completely different from this backward place.

But if you want to control hundreds of people with just over twenty people, this is the best method that Sunday could think of.

Treat the natives the way they are most familiar with first, and then let them learn and correct their mistakes little by little once they are brought to the island.

The transition from barbarism to civilization is a process that cannot be achieved overnight.

Sunday's objective was to eliminate the elite native warriors and then capture the tribal chief in front of all the tribe members.

……

"Collect your spent cartridges, remember the enemies you've eliminated, pick up your shields, and we're advancing."

Hearing the gunfire around them gradually subside into a drizzle, Sunday knew the sailors could no longer see and hit the enemy, and immediately issued further instructions.

Actually, he was a little flustered when everyone was firing freely.

What he feared was not defeat, but rather that the sailors might target the tribal chief during their firing and kill him prematurely.

Before the battle, he had instructed that the tribal chief be spared and that no one be allowed to aim at the tribal chief before the other native warriors died.

When gunfire erupts in unison and the air is thick with the smell of gunpowder, everyone becomes extremely excited, and in their excitement, it's quite possible that they might forget to follow orders.

In such a situation, if the tribal chief were accidentally killed, it would be difficult to blame him on Sunday.

Moreover, with more than a dozen people firing their guns at the same time and no one admitting to it, finding out who killed the leader wouldn't be an easy task.

Fortunately, the soldiers' obedience was very gratifying. They both killed the enemy and released those who should be released, which made Sunday very gratified.

……

The extraterrestrial demons on the mountain are advancing downwards, and the tribes below have long been in chaos.

Women, children, the elderly, and the infirm dared not stay in the tribe after hearing the news brought back by the deserters. However, the forest was vast, and there were other hostile tribes in other parts of the island if they left the tribe.

Years of conflict have long made the large tribes irreconcilably hostile to other tribes. If they were to trespass on someone else's territory, they would surely be devoured alive.

Now, advancing or retreating means certain death. These people, still struggling to make ends meet, are at a loss and have no idea what to do.

But their revered leader, the "warrior chosen by the gods," the "invincible king," and the "chosen one who led the tribe to rise," was nowhere to be seen.

But for the other members of the tribe, the leader's whereabouts were no longer important. They only needed to think about how to survive, whether to escape or hide; they didn't care what happened to the leader.

……

Far from the center of the tribe, Lisoben, panting heavily, finally stopped, leaning against a thick tree trunk beside him.

He hadn't run like this in a very long time. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, as if his heart and lungs were on fire, burning with pain.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he breathed heavily as he slowly sat down against the tree trunk.

He cautiously peeked out and glanced behind him.

The dense foliage blocked his view, and the forest was as quiet as ever, with no unusual sounds except for the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Relieved, Lisoben supported his back and leaned his head back against the tree trunk to recover his strength.

He wanted to run straight down the forest path to the Spanish settlement, the only place that could give him a sense of security.

But in the past two years, he has been either drinking or sleeping soundly in bed every day, and his physical strength is no longer what it used to be.

He started running from the bottom of the hillside, but he couldn't even finish half the journey, let alone reach the outsider settlement on the other side of the island without stopping.

Fortunately for Risobben, he never heard the terrible sound again after the loud noises stopped shortly after he escaped.

Perhaps this means that the invincible monsters have retreated, or perhaps they have gone in another direction.

Liso thought that at this moment, having a bit of wishful thinking would make him feel more comfortable.

Close her eyes and feel her breathing becoming more relaxed. Lisuo wanted to stand up, but found her legs were weak.

"Let me rest a little longer!" he thought.

The longer time dragged on, the more he felt that no one would catch up, which greatly reduced his fear.

The fatigue from the strenuous exercise was creeping into his body, and the more he sat on the ground, the stronger his sluggishness became. Lisoben even wanted to take a nap here.

However, just as he was getting sleepy and about to fall into a light sleep, a series of rapid footsteps suddenly came from not far away.

Like being bitten by a poisonous insect, Lisoben suddenly woke up, all sleepiness instantly gone.

He forced himself to get up, thinking that the pursuers had arrived. He was about to assess the situation before continuing his escape when he realized that the sound was coming from the direction of the gathering place by the sea.

"It's an outsider!"

Lisoben had never been so overjoyed. He stood up, and with the little strength he had just regained, nimbly climbed the tree. He glanced towards the source of the sound and confirmed his guess—

Eight disheveled-looking Spaniards, dressed in sailor suits and carrying muskets, followed the native warrior who had brought the news, slowly making their way towards the tribe with impatient expressions.

……

About two years ago, when their relationship with the indigenous tribe was still good, they sent a sailor to a distant island to help find the old priest in order to help the tribe's chief, who was a little smarter than the other "wild monkeys".

Subsequently, they lost a sailor.

This wasn't a big deal, and it shouldn't have damaged the relationship between the two sides.

To the Spanish’s anger, after the sailor disappeared on the unfamiliar island, they repeatedly asked the tribal chief to send two canoes to search for him, but Rissoben refused.

Like being bitten by a domesticated dog, seeing that Rissoben was no longer as compliant as before, the Spanish simply cut off all contact with him and stopped providing assistance to the tribe.

The tribe was devastated as a result, but Rissoben never backed down and offered to send men to search for the missing sailors.

Once the relationship soured, it never recovered.

Lisoben couldn't understand why an outsider would become so indifferent to him over a single life—

He gave away far more than just one strong native captive and one beautiful native woman to the outsiders; even if it were twenty for one, it would have been enough long ago.

The Spanish also couldn't understand Rissoben's simple ideas—

That island is the abode of demons, and it will devour anyone who dares to set foot on land.

Whether it was an old priest or a valiant warrior, anyone who dared to set foot on the island in the wrong season could never return.

Although Risoben had heard the old priest say that there might not be a god in the world, he did not believe that the devil did not exist.

Since the old priest disappeared, the tribe has already lost a lot of manpower, and he was unwilling to squander the power he held in his hands.

The vast differences in their thinking meant that after their disagreement, the two sides never crossed paths again.

If they hadn't needed to continue transshipping treasures on the island and didn't want to cause trouble, given the Spanish attitude towards the Inca Empire, this tribe might have been wiped out long ago. They wouldn't tolerate a small tribal chief acting so capriciously.

……

After a long time, the Spanish did not expect that the tribal chief would come to them again, and the messenger he sent spoke a lot of words that they could not understand as soon as they met.

If it weren't for the fact that there were many indigenous female servants in their temporary settlement who had learned basic Spanish over the past two years and also knew the indigenous language, thus serving as translators, they probably wouldn't have taken this matter seriously, sending out a full eight people, all armed—

The disputes between the islands were seen by the Spanish as childish games.

The significance of other outsiders is quite different.

You should know that the island contains a vast amount of treasure that they plundered from the Inca Empire, which is the guarantee of a comfortable life for every sailor for the rest of their days.

For this astronomical fortune, they risked their lives to sail far away, fight against the army of the Inca Empire, and even stay on this remote island, living a monotonous life, guarding the treasure, and waiting for their companions to bring them supplies.

All of this was sacrifice they made for the treasure.

Therefore, if anyone might threaten this wealth, they will act like jackals facing a threat, baring their jagged teeth and ready to strike the enemy at any moment.

……

Led by the messenger natives, they headed towards the highlands with great momentum, but unexpectedly, Risobun emerged from a side path along the way.

The tense Spaniards were so startled when a large, living person suddenly emerged from the bushes that they almost fired their guns.

Fortunately, the loading process of the matchlock gun was extremely complicated, so they couldn't fire it immediately and could only draw their swords to fight back. Otherwise, the dazed Lisobben might have become a dead man just after "finding his organization".

Upon seeing a group of people with golden, brown, and tan hair, the tough tribal chief, Lisoben, almost shed a few tears.

Thank God, he has been living in constant fear ever since he survived.

Only now, having joined this group of outsiders, did he truly feel safe, and his heart finally stopped pounding. (End of Chapter)