Outnumbered? I'll conquer America with an unlimited number of suicide soldiers.

After handing over his duties to the other guard, Leon went to the fat man in charge of logistics and bought a bottle of whiskey.

In the mining area, liquor is a hard currency and also the best way to get information.

Pushing open the wooden door of the shed, a pungent stench hit you.

Three overseers were playing cards around a broken wooden box, illuminated by kerosene lamps hanging overhead.

Leon shook the bottle in his hand and said, "What's the point of just playing cards? Let's drink and play at the same time."

"Where did you buy it from Pixar? Leon, you're quite generous."

The red-haired Irishman looked up and whistled: "That son of a bitch charged me ten dollars a bottle last time, and I only make twenty a week!"

Leon placed the bottle on the wooden box, uncorked it, and poured wine into everyone's glasses.

"It's expensive, but how can we survive in this awful place without having a few drinks?"

He took a big gulp himself, the burning liquid scalding his throat. "I can't even see a woman, all I see are those Qing Dynasty laborers. I regretted coming here on my third day."

As they drank and played cards, the cheap whiskey quickly livened up the atmosphere in the shack. In less than half an hour, the bottles were more than half empty, and in their drunken revelry, they began to talk without restraint.

One of them grinned and said, "Finally, we can go to San Francisco the day after tomorrow! I heard someone say that a new brothel opened on California Street, and they even have girls from Paris. I'm definitely going to try it out this time!"

Another person mocked, "With your meager salary, you can only afford a Mexican woman at most. Sleeping with a French woman? Dream on."

"The wages aren't enough," the man said, hiccuping, his eyes glazed over.

"But doesn't the boss give an extra five-dollar bonus every time he finishes delivering the goods? That should be enough..."

To be honest, the boss is overly cautious, changing routes every time he delivers goods. Last time he took the main road, this time he insists on taking some Wolf Valley route, as if he's afraid of being watched.

"These days, who knows if a few money-grubbing bastards will pop up?" Leon slurred, also drunk. "If you ask me, the boss should just hire a few more people. Why go through all this trouble every time?"

"The previous boss might have been willing to give it up, but I doubt it's possible for him to do so now."

The Irishman lowered his voice, "I heard from my cousin who works in San Francisco that a newspaper exposed his falsification of company accounts, and the stock price has been falling for weeks. He's not having an easy time either."

A little while later, the three overseers, drunk and staggering, lay on the ground and fell fast asleep, snoring loudly.

Leon leaned against the wall with his head down, pretending to be asleep, and mentally communicated with his past self.

"My lord, the route has been determined."

In the room in the town, Lucy brought out a map, and they searched on it for a while but couldn't find the location.

"Where is Wolf Valley? It's not on the map."

Lucy, standing nearby, pointed to a location in the north of the town: "Master, Wolf Valley is the name given to a small valley to the north by the townspeople. Wolves live there, and few people venture there, so it's not marked on the map."

"So remote?" Zeng raised an eyebrow and chuckled, "Perfect. After I die, my corpse can be used to feed the wolves. Making good use of waste."

"Arthur".

"My Lord." Arthur Morgan's voice rang out respectfully from the other end of the mind network.

"Take some men to scout the terrain beforehand. Remember to clean up the hoofprints so the people at the mine won't notice."

"clear."

"By the way, be careful when you take John there, don't let the wolves eat half of his brain off."

Five hours later, Arthur and John arrived at Wolf Valley.

As its name suggests, the valley is frequented by wolves, and every now and then a few eerie green lights can be seen on both sides.

Using their guns, the four men drove away the wolves and spent several more hours figuring out the surrounding terrain.

The valley was nestled between two mountain ridges, with dense redwoods and oaks covering the slopes on both sides of the road. Arthur looked around and finally chose a spot at the end of the valley.

The road twists sharply there, with protruding layers of weathered rock overhead, and several huge redwood trees with exposed roots standing by the roadside.

"Arthur, is there anything different about this location compared to the previous ones?" John asked, puzzled. "Terrain-wise, the valley entrance would be a better place for an ambush, wouldn't it?"

"Please, use your rusty brain, Marston."

Arthur glanced at him. "Everyone knows the valley is a good place for an ambush, so they're on high alert when they pass through."

"Once they have crossed most of the valley with trepidation and find that the journey is safe, they will naturally relax their guard."

At that time, all they had to do was detonate the explosives to knock down the trees, cutting off their path. Their comrades, hidden in the dense forest on either side, could then unleash a barrage of fire from higher ground, eliminating everyone in the shortest possible time.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Two more days passed.

The mine was already bustling with activity at dawn.

William Schneider emerged from the ore-smelting shed, carrying a heavy little iron box in both hands. He secured the box securely to the back of his saddle and called upon ten of his usual bodyguards.

"William, you'd better leave me a few more men!"

A fat man, as big as a barrel, followed them out; he was the mine manager. "You always pull half the manpower away. Without supervisors, those Qing Dynasty miners will definitely slack off, and production will drop again these next few days!"

"Grady, keep some extra for you, I'm afraid this gold won't make it to San Francisco."

William mounted his horse with swift, clean movements. "There was a robbery in the nearby town of Wild Wolf a few days ago; the stable owner, Charles, was killed in broad daylight. California is in such a mess, I can't afford to reduce our manpower."

While the two were talking, the guards had already checked the weapons and prepared the horses.

Leon and Azrael stood on the watchtower, watching the eleven horses raise countless clouds of dust as they gradually disappeared into the distance from the mine.

Meanwhile, inside Wolf Valley, the assassins were already in position.

"They've already set off. It's a 30-mile distance, they should be there in three hours. Everyone, put bridles on the horses and sprinkle them with animal repellent powder. Make sure they don't make a sound."

Arthur's expression was grim: "John, place the gunpowder pack at the base of that redwood tree. Time it right, and light the fuse when the person is almost there."

"Have a few men and hide outside the valley. If any escape, you'll be in charge of intercepting them."

The assassins nodded, like a group of ghosts blending into the mountain shadows, and dispersed to their designated positions.

Time ticked by, and everyone's eyes were fixed on the road below, like a pack of wolves.

coming!

First came the faint sound of horses' hooves, then the sound grew louder and louder, interspersed with the occasional shouts of the guards.

William Schneider stood in the middle of his ten guards, squinting as he surveyed the terrain on either side. Years of experience instilled in him an instinctive wariness of this type of terrain, and he drew his Sharps carbine from behind him and gripped it in his hand.

"Pay attention, stay alert!" he shouted. "Speed ​​up, get through as quickly as possible!"

Upon hearing this, the guards instinctively gripped their gun handles and began whipping their horses in unison. The horses' hooves flew, raising clouds of dust, and in just three or four minutes, they were almost at the exit of the valley.

It's now!

John lit the fuse, and hissing sparks flew rapidly among the dead leaves.

boom!

Seconds later, a deafening explosion rang out. The massive redwood cracked with a sickening sound, its trunk slowly tilting before crashing down onto the road with tremendous force.

"What was that sound?!"

"It was an explosion, and there was gunpowder smoke!"

"The tree is falling! The tree is falling!"

"Rein in your horse! Rein in your horse now!"

Exclamations and roars erupted simultaneously!

The people below gripped the reins tightly, and the frightened horses neighed and reared up.

The giant tree crashed less than thirty yards in front of them, its branches flying everywhere and dust billowing into the air. Immediately afterward, large rocks slammed down, completely blocking their path.

"There's an ambush!"

William Schneider reined in his horse almost the instant the tree fell, then dismounted, rolled behind a rock, and fired blindly towards the hillside to suppress the falling trees.

"Everyone, dismount and find cover!"

However, his reaction was quick, but the assassins' bullets were even faster.

boom!boom!boom!boom!boom!

The eight Springfield rifles lying in ambush on the left hillside opened fire almost simultaneously!

From their elevated position, at a distance of only forty or fifty yards, these assassins with Lv.3 gun skills were like sitting ducks!

In the first volley of fire, five guards were hit and fell from their horses.

The remaining men successfully found cover, each hiding behind rocks of varying sizes, with bullets scattering stone chips everywhere.

"There are people on the right too!" a guard shouted.

On the right hillside, eight more assassins appeared, their revolvers and shotguns spitting fire, iron pellets and lead bullets filling the sky.

Three more guards died in the valley.

William attempted to organize a counterattack, but just as he leaned out to fire a shot, a bullet flying from the hillside struck his shoulder, causing him to scream and cower behind a rock.

The battle turned into a one-sided massacre.

The suicide squad members loaded, fired, and searched for their next target with expressionless faces.

The guards tried to fight back, but the gun lines on both sides completely blocked them, leaving them at the mercy of their enemies.

A young guard broke down. He dropped his gun, knelt on the ground, and raised his hands: "Don't kill me! I'll surrender—"

"Bang!"

The pleas for mercy abruptly ceased. He fell backward, a black hole appearing on his forehead.

The battle ended within a minute.

The suicide squad members leaped down the hillside and began firing shots at the corpses.

William, clutching his bleeding shoulder and leaning against the boulder, stared at the masked attackers and gritted his teeth, asking, "Who are you? When did gangs like yours appear in California?"

Arthur ignored him and shot him in the head.

He bent down and picked up the Sharps carbine next to the corpse, saying, "Looking for gold!"

The assassins acted swiftly, beginning to search the saddles on the horses and the pockets on the bodies' clothing.

"Found it!"

One of the assassins shouted and took a small iron box from the saddle. When he opened it, there was a gold brick with a rough, uneven surface and a dull luster, about the size of two open adult hands.

"It must be several hundred ounces."

Arthur glanced at the list and said, "Grab all the weapons and horses, let's retreat!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Wild Wolf Town.

He once ate an apple and, through Arthur's senses, watched the ambush.

"Wow, this is much more exciting than watching a Western movie."

Just as he snapped out of his daze, a semi-transparent system interface suddenly appeared before his eyes.

【Name: Life for Life System】

[Host: Formerly]

[Level: 4]

[Effect: Automatically generates eight assassins daily, whose physical strength is 1.4 times that of a normal adult Homo sapiens male.]

Current number of assassins: 38

Number of summonable assassins: 8

[Upgrade Requirements: Kill sixteen humans (9/16)]

[Currently Unlocked Sub-items]:

[Hive Consciousness]: You can simultaneously obtain information perceived by all your subordinates and communicate with them telepathically.

[The Dead Fear Death]: There is a certain chance that those who died at the hands of you and your assassins will be summoned.

[Warspace Teleportation]: You can place newly summoned zombies next to existing zombies.

[Thirst for Knowledge]: You can choose to summon a zombie with this trait. Zombies with this trait will possess exceptional learning and research capabilities, at the cost of occupying two summoning slots.

A thirst for knowledge?

I blinked once, and suddenly became interested.

Speaking of which, apart from Lucy, all of his forty assassins are ruthless characters who specialize in combat, including firearms, hand-to-hand combat, hunting, and assassination.

Even the twelve Afghan assassins who were deployed to San Francisco in the past two days to assist Dutch and Hosea have combat skills listed in their skill sets.

There wasn't a single person who could handle logistics or understand technology.

New skills are great!

He no longer needs to bother kidnapping white engineers.

"This characteristic sounds like that of someone who excels at scientific research."

With a thought, he used his skill, and the system immediately popped up a sub-interface.

Please select your area of ​​study: Chemical Engineering, Materials Science, Electrical Engineering, or Mechanical Engineering.

Only four options?

I thought about it and realized that there were eight spots available after the upgrade, so I selected all four categories.

In an instant, four assassins appeared in his room, and a control panel popped up at the same time.

Ignoring the naming information, I looked at the skills section.

[Skills: Chemical Engineering Proficiency (Lv.3), Learning (Lv.4)]

[Skills: Materials Proficiency (Lv.3), Learning (Lv.4)]

[Skills: Electrical Proficiency (Lv.3), Learning (Lv.4)]

[Skills: Mechanical Mastery (Lv.3), Learning (Lv.4)]

Wow.

It caught my eye once. Although I haven't made any specific comparisons, based on the past stats of assassins, Lv.3 represents a level of consummate skill, indicating an expert who has been immersed in a certain industry for many years.

To use examples from my past life, they are like professional gamers, chief physicians among doctors, Ryoko with a huge appetite, and Sister Yu with big feet...

As for Lv.4, they are probably the group of people who stand at the edge of human cognition, the ones who can push humanity forward.

"Can you learn skills to raise the rest of your skills to level 4?" Zeng asked curiously.

"My lord, it is possible, but it requires a long period of learning."

He then asked, "What technologies are you currently capable of developing?"

"We can basically replicate all the technologies that exist in the world today by working together, but we need laboratories and industrial workshops."

The assassin, an expert in chemical engineering, replied, "If you wish to develop new technologies, Master, we can accomplish that by dedicating our time to research."

"That's perfect. Once Arthur returns, I'll have him send people to San Francisco. Dutch and Hosea will meet you there."

He once said, "I plan to open a weapons company in San Francisco and develop a new generation of firearms based on the Sharps carbine."

"I demand that this gun have a gas-proof locking mechanism, long-range iron sights, and use metallic cartridges. In other words, I want a Sharps carbine from twenty years in the future."