From Robinson Crusoe

All the arguments and anger vanished the moment the gunshot rang out.

Realizing they had become the enemy's target, all the Spaniards hurriedly sought the nearest cover, even the native Rissoben was no exception—

He had just witnessed the terrifying power of firearms, and he could hide even faster than the Spaniards.

The thick tree trunk gave everyone a sense of security. Javier was so frightened that he was covered in sweat, his whole body almost completely pressed against the ground. He cautiously raised his head and looked in the direction from which the gunshots came, trying to find traces of the enemy.

The remaining Spaniards concealed themselves while taking down their muskets from their backs, preparing to immediately retaliate against the enemy.

They all assumed the enemy was also using inaccurate matchlock guns, which was why they missed in the first round of shooting. Little did they know, it was intentional on the enemy's part.

……

Having started as a hunter, and later becoming a seasoned sailor in order to earn money, Havel was the most skilled at using a matchlock gun among them.

Even with an awkward posture, he could still successfully use the ramrod to feed the gunpowder into the barrel and was confident of firing it.

However, that can only be done without interference.

On Sunday, the crew, positioned on a high vantage point with the aid of binoculars, had a clear view of the sailors' every move.

"Make sure to protect me later. If anyone raises their hand to load a bullet, shoot them dead."

He gave the order in a deep voice, and on Sunday he raised his gun, aimed at a Spanish sailor who was about to reload, and fired a shot into the bush next to his head.

……

His restrained attitude towards the Spaniards wasn't due to fear of these outsiders, but rather because Chen Zhou had specifically instructed the Spaniards to leave as many alive as possible before the plan began.

Where is the treasure buried on the island? What are the movements of the Spanish raiding fleet? What is the firepower of the ships? Who leads the raiding fleet?

These crucial questions can only be answered by the Spaniards who remain on the island.

If we can capture this group alive, bring them back to the island for interrogation, and obtain enough detailed intelligence, the subsequent operations will be much easier and less strenuous.

Moreover, Chen Zhou did not actually intend to completely break ties with the Spanish.

The island was not rich in resources, lacking many mineral resources and chemical raw materials, and he could not build a large fleet in a short period of time.

Therefore, Chen Zhou wanted to use the Spanish to bring a continuous supply of goods to the island through their fleet.

Even Laifu's "wife" had to be brought over from a foreign land by the Spaniards.

As a large dog, Laifu is now transitioning from his prime to old age.

Chen Zhou was unable to extend Lai Fu's lifespan so that it could accompany him through the challenging 28 years.

All he could do was help Laifu leave offspring so that it could accompany him in another way and protect the entire island.

……

The operation was led by Chen Zhou, with Sunday, as a former native of the island, along with other indigenous people from the island, helping him to fill in any gaps and supplement the details of the plan.

Keep all the important points in mind on Sunday.

However, the condition of capturing all Spaniards alive is also present—

If this group puts up a stubborn resistance and could cause casualties among the sailors, he will not hesitate to use bullets.

After all, Chen Zhou had also instructed them that their soldiers were always more important than treasure, and that they would fight for anything as long as they had men and guns.

……

The gunshots arrived almost simultaneously with the bullets.

A thud suddenly erupted from the ground next to Havel's head, startling him so much that he quickly lowered his gun and dared not make another move.

Once might be a coincidence, but twice is less certain.

He frowned, squinted, and shrank back further, peering through the dense bushes—

"If it was a matchlock gun attack, the person who fired should be nearby, but they have already fired twice, so why can't I find the person?"
If I can't see them, they should have a hard time observing me too. If they are far away, how can they know my whereabouts?

Moreover, judging from the location of the gunshots, they should have been quite far away..."

Javier became increasingly uneasy. Looking back at the two previous shots, he had a feeling that this time the enemy's weaponry was superior to theirs, completely different from the primitive people on the island who only used wooden spears and arrows.

These sea pirates have always been bullies who prey on the weak and fear the strong. When they encounter a weak opponent, they are ugly and ugly, but when they encounter a strong enemy, they only think about escaping to save their lives.

Unsure whether he was still under close surveillance, Havel looked around and began to have wicked thoughts.

He shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Their guns are better than ours, and they outnumber us. Let's get out of here before they get here!"

……

Despite their recent argument, everyone is now united in their resolve, and no one doubts the truthfulness of Havel's words.

A Spanish sailor who was hiding at the front was the first to react, crouching down and hurriedly running to the back with his long matchlock gun in hand.

Seeing this, the other sailors also picked up their weapons, intending to return to their camp to make further plans.

There were still a few people left behind in the camp, and simple defensive fortifications had been built. Once they returned to their temporary residence, even if the enemy outnumbered them, they would hesitate to take down this "tough nut to crack."

Everyone else had gotten up and moved, but Havel remained lying on the ground, carefully observing whether anything unexpected had happened.

His guess was soon proven correct.

A bullet flew from a distance and hit the first person to run away in the calf.

As the man ran, he suddenly stumbled and fell to the ground, letting out a scream.

Javier was not far away and could clearly see that the man's calf appeared to have been pierced by a bullet, and blood was gushing out. The sight chilled him to the bone.

To be able to accurately hit a moving person's leg from such a distance not only demonstrates the shooter's excellent marksmanship, but also indicates that the gun's range and accuracy far surpass those of their matchlock guns.

To be honest, after years of sailing at sea, Havel had seen all sorts of guns and crossbows, but he had never seen a weapon like this before.

This gun was even beyond his imagination.

Who could possibly create such a weapon? The British Royal Family? The Dutch? Or the Portuguese?
One conjecture after another flooded Javier's mind, only to be rejected one after another.

He cursed the natives in his heart for causing trouble and bringing him bad luck.

Faced with this unexpected turn of events, Havel could not think of any solution for the time being.

He knew very well that he was now within the enemy's firing range, and that gun might be pointed at his head.

Fortunately, the situation did not turn out too badly. The enemy did not directly aim to kill them, but instead attacked non-vital parts, which meant that they could at least survive for the time being.

There is a similar saying in Spanish proverbs, such as "Where there's life, there's hope."

Havel didn't become a sailor for any kind of adventurous spirit; he embarked on this path for wealth, power, and women. Most of the time, his mindset remained the same as when he was a hunter back home.

He never considered his companions as equals to him, just as he is now—

The sailor who was shot was a prey he deliberately released to test the enemy's tactics.

At this moment, the enemy demonstrated the superior performance of their weapons. Havel felt both terrified and unable to think of a countermeasure, yet he felt no remorse whatsoever.

……

While the Spanish sailors were in disarray and dared not flee any further, Sunday had already climbed down from the tree and was heading towards where the sailors were, guns in hand.

Two hundred meters is not a long distance.

After being warned a second time, the sailors were on edge, and on Sunday, the sound of footsteps crunching through the leaves reached their ears.

They quickly realized that the footsteps and gunshots were coming from the same direction.

Some were angry at their wounded comrade, some were afraid of the mysterious enemy, and some were puzzled by the sparse footsteps, since it was clear that more than one person had just fired the shots.

Everyone had different thoughts, but there was one person who only wanted to escape, and that was Risob.

He knew very well that his earlier act of leading the tribal warriors in a coordinated attack had angered the outsiders.

Now the outsiders are relentlessly pursuing him; they definitely want him dead.

Even a blind man could see that the Spaniards were completely outmatched in the attack, and one of them was knocked down before he could even see the enemy's face.

Risso wasn't stupid; he knew the Spanish could no longer protect him, and the pitiful sense of security he had just gained vanished.

Since that's the case, it's better to keep running, escape into the dense forest, find a secluded place, and at least survive.

Lisoben grew up in the tribe. Although he rarely did the physical labor that ordinary members did, such as making fire, gathering, or fishing, thanks to his father's protection and the old priest's favoritism.

But even if he hadn't eaten pork, he had seen pigs run. After watching them for many years, he had already mastered most of the essentials of these tasks. Now, even without anyone's help, he was confident that he could survive in the forest on his own.

Fearing being hit by that terrible weapon from a distance, Rissoben cautiously glanced at the Spaniard, then crouched down like a turtle and crawled into the bushes.

However, to his surprise, just as his head plunged into the dense bushes and before he could push it any further in, the Spanish gun was pressed against his spine.

"come out!"

Havel dared not stand up completely, and remained crouched as well.

He gripped the matchlock gun tightly, wishing he could use it as a spear and plunge it directly into the native's body—

Up until now, he still thought that the natives had brought trouble upon them, never imagining that Sunday and the others' purpose in landing on the island was precisely to include them, the Spanish.

……

Having known the Spanish for several years, Rissoben, though not fluent in Spanish, was familiar with most of their commonly used everyday words.

Realizing he was being watched and there was no way he could sneak away, he had no choice but to back out of the bushes with his rear end sticking out. Javier escorted him all the way to the middle of the crowd, like a dog crawling on the ground.

……

The Spaniards were caught in a dilemma, unable to advance or retreat, while Sunday was fast approaching.

The steady footsteps were like heavy drumbeats, striking the sailors' hearts.

Knowing they were within the enemy's range and their lives were entirely in the enemy's hands, they looked dejected, both terrified and confused, and gathered around Lisoben.

Before long, Sunday, dressed in camouflage and carrying a long gun, crossed the woodland and came to within 10 meters of them.

Only then were the Spanish able to see the true face of their enemy.

When Chen Zhou rescued him on Sunday, he was a malnourished child who hadn't finished growing. His skin was tanned dark by the sun, and he looked like a hairless, skinny monkey.

After spending several years on the island, thanks to the abundant food, balanced nutrition, and ample exercise, he is now a completely different person from before.

Chen Zhou estimates that Sunday's height should now be close to 172cm, which would have been considered tall in the 17th century.

Meanwhile, Sunday's complexion had become much fairer, and coupled with his responsibility for managing military affairs on the island, he exuded a heroic and valiant air.

When Havel and the others first saw Sunday, they scanned him from head to toe at his unusual attire before scrutinizing his face.

Despite their long-standing contact with the indigenous people, none of these Spaniards recognized Sunday as an indigenous person; they simply assumed he was a special race with yellow skin.

They would rather believe that there are countries in the world with technology far surpassing their own than believe that the indigenous people had driven them to this predicament.

……

"Can you understand me?"

On Sunday, facing eight Spanish sailors, he showed no fear and loudly questioned them.

Upon hearing that the enemy was speaking a native language, the sailors looked on in astonishment, clearly quite surprised.

They were eager to answer Sunday's question, but due to their inherent arrogance, none of them understood the native language despite having lived on the island for many years.

For them, being able to humble themselves and understand the body language of the indigenous people is already a great blessing. They consider themselves to be from the civilized world and would never learn a backward language or understand a backward culture.

……

An awkward silence lasted for about ten seconds before Risoben, who was lying on the ground, finally mustered up the courage to shout to Sunday.

"I can understand what you're saying!"

Please, don't let them kill me! I can speak, I can!

As he shouted, he struggled to break free from Havel's gun, his eyes fixed longingly on Sunday.

At this moment, Lisoben never dreamed that the important figure in front of him who could decide his life and death was once just a child from a small tribe that he had destroyed. He had even been taken to a deserted island by his beloved old priest and was almost roasted and eaten.

……

On Sunday, after looking around and seeing that the Spaniards were unresponsive, he figured that the only person he could communicate with now was this native he hated so much, so he could only nod.

"Alright, go and collect all their weapons, then untie their belts and tie their hands."

"Raise your gun and point it diagonally at the group of sailors," Sunday said.

Upon hearing this, Lisoben looked troubled.

He can't afford to offend outsiders, but does he think he can afford to offend the Spanish?
But now that he had spoken up, he couldn't back out, or he would offend both sides.

As the tribal chief, when had he ever suffered such ostracism? If his life weren't in someone else's hands, given his temper, he would have either beaten or scolded him long ago.

Unfortunately, when you're under someone's roof, you have no choice but to bow your head.

Even knowing he would offend the Spanish, he had no choice but to bite the bullet and grab the arquebus from the sailor's hand. (End of Chapter)