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

Chapter 69 Nevada

Nevada.

In 1855, this area was not yet a state; it was part of the quasi-state of Utah.

It wasn't until 1861, due to population growth and the strategic need to support the federal government, that this region separated from the Utah Territory and became an independent state.

"It's fucking cold."

A Han Chinese assassin named Jingde led his cavalry through the snow, their steps uneven as the biting wind cut like knives, stinging their faces.

The cavalry is currently located on a ridgeline in the Sierra Nevada Mountains at an altitude of 2,800 meters.

Here, even the naturally upright pines and cypresses have grown into short, twisted, and even creeping shapes due to strong winds, low temperatures, and heavy snow.

"Jingde, the horses can't take it anymore, we need to find a sheltered place to rest!" a soldier shouted from the cavalry behind him.

The horse beside him had its nostrils flared wide, breathing like a bellows, and sweat poured out uncontrollably, turning to ice when blown by the cold wind.

In the horse team, more than a dozen horses showed similar symptoms, clearly indicating that they were all nearing their physical limits.

Jingde frowned and shouted, "We're at Carson Pass now! This godforsaken place is windy all year round, blowing rocks all over the place. Where are we going to find shelter from the wind?"

"Unload everything off the horse, and everyone help carry some of it."

"We'll cross that in just a few dozen meters. Once we reach Nevada, it's all downhill. We'll find a place to rest there!"

The group unloaded the more than 100 kilograms of cargo from each horse, divided it among themselves, and then continued on their way.

After crossing the mountain pass and resting for an hour at a sheltered spot, the caravan continued downhill and soon officially entered Nevada territory.

A desolate desert came into view.

Apart from the snow-covered foothills behind, everything was gray and drab. The trees were gone, replaced by endless thickets of sage and thorny shrubs.

Animal carcasses can be seen everywhere along the roadside: cows, horses, mules, sheep, and even human remains.

The road down the mountain was extremely treacherous, with snow, cliffs, and steep mountain paths. It took the horse team a whole day to descend from 2,800 meters to about 1,000 meters.

Just then, a valley finally appeared before them from the shadows of the mountains.

It was a scene completely different from the desert.

Vast green meadows stretch out, and the river flows from the valley, rushing straight to the foot of the mountain.

"This must be Carson Valley?"

Jingde took out the map that his lord had given them before they set off and compared it with the map. "There are rivers and grasslands, this should be it."

"There must be people in the valley. We can just go in and ask."

The assassins behind Jingde took the lead, leading their horses toward the valley.

After another half hour, the caravan entered the valley.

Within the valley, surrounding the river, numerous buildings have been constructed: residences, shops, taverns, ranches, sawmills—

The streets were bustling with people and the sounds of livestock neighing; it was clearly a small town with a population of several hundred.

"Sir, is this Carson Valley?" a member of the assassin asked a passing white cowboy in English.

When the white cowboy heard the question, he turned to look at Jingde and his group, then his brows furrowed tightly.

"My God, why are there so many insects?"

He spat in disgust, lashed his horse's rump with the whip, and headed straight into the town.

The assassin's expression froze, then he laughed in anger: "Fine, fine, you bastard, you're asking for it, aren't you?"

"Alright, alright."

Jingde stopped the assassins who wanted to give chase, saying, "Let's find a place to settle down first. We've been traveling for so long and we're all exhausted. Let's rest before we bother with these white people."

Mormon Station.

This is the name of the small town located in the Carson Valley.

As its name suggests, the town was founded by Mormons to provide supplies for Mormon immigrants.

Inside the white house in the very center of town, Orson Hyde, the town's mayor and also the leader of the Mormon Church in the area, was discussing matters with his followers.

"Brothers, the situation has become extremely serious."

Hyde surveyed the dozen or so Mormons in the room, his tone serious.

"In this year's county election, none of the ten positions were held by our brothers, which is a very dangerous sign."

"Brother Hyde, there's nothing we can do about it."

A Mormon sitting nearby sighed, "Lost sheep keep coming from all over the world. How can we possibly keep up with the speed at which they're bringing in our mission?"

Hyde said slowly, "I will send a message to Mr. Brigham Young and ask him to send two hundred families here."

This place is strategically important; we must maintain firm control over it.

Suddenly, there was a rapid knocking at the door, and someone outside said, "Mr. Orson Hyde, are you home?"

Hyde gestured to the cultists closest to the door to open it, and soon a young cowboy entered and stood before the group.

Good afternoon, gentlemen.

The young cowboy tipped his hat in greeting, then said, "Mr. Hyde, a swarm of Qing insects has arrived outside town and set up camp over there. I suggest you go and deal with them."

Hyde paused for a moment, then asked, "Qing Dynasty people? What are they doing here?"

"I don't know. I only know there were about twenty or thirty people leading horses and carrying a lot of goods."

A low murmur of discussion arose in the room.

"What are the Qing Dynasty people doing here?" someone asked. "It's not an easy journey from California to here."

Who knows?

Hyde raised his hand, signaling for everyone to be quiet.

He pondered for a few seconds, then slowly said, "No matter what they come here for, this is our territory."

"Have the brothers keep an eye on things. If those Qing insects are just passing through, stopping for supplies and then leaving, then let it go."

He paused, his tone turning hostile. "But if those Qing insects have ulterior motives, then let them know that Carson Valley is not a place anyone can come to!"

The believers nodded, got up, and went out.

The cavalry found an open space on the east side of the town and began unloading their cargo and setting up camp.

The tents were pitched, a campfire was lit, and the horses were led to the river to drink and be fed. Several people took out dry rations and salted meat from the cargo boxes and simply cooked a pot of hot soup with the river water.

I had barely sat down and taken a few bites when the sound of horses' hooves approached from afar.

A dozen or so white men rode up on horseback, led by the same cowboy from before. Behind him were several other riders, all carrying guns.

"Hey, bug cleaner!"

The cowboy pointed his whip at Jingde and his group, his face full of impatience. "Who gave you permission to camp here?"

Jingde stood up, his face expressionless: "This land is vacant. We're just stopping by temporarily. We'll leave tomorrow."

"It's not for you to use if it's empty."

The cowboy dismounted and strode over. "This is our territory. You yellow-skinned monkeys have no right to be here. Now, pack your things and get out!"

Several of his companions dismounted and surrounded him with fierce expressions, their guns taunting him intentionally or unintentionally.

Jingde glanced at their numbers.

Eleven white men, all carrying revolvers, two of whom were also carrying rifles.

"What? You're not convinced?"

The cowboy walked up to Jingde and poked him in the chest with his finger. "Qingchong, didn't you hear me?"

Before he could finish speaking, Jingde moved.

He grabbed the finger that was poking him with his left hand and twisted it outwards with force!

Click!

The sound of bones breaking was clearly audible.

Jingde simultaneously drew a hunting knife from his waist with his right hand, stabbed it into the cowboy's abdomen, and then slashed upwards.

"Ugh!!!"

The cowboy's scream had barely left his lips when Jingde drew his sword.

The cowboy's eyes widened as his internal organs slid out of the wound. Blood gushed out, he cried out, convulsed a few times, and then lay still.

All of this happened in less than three seconds.

"You're asking for it!"

The remaining ten white men were stunned for a moment, then reacted at the same time and were about to open fire.

But they were too slow.

The assassins who had been watching them for a long time opened fire instantly. Gunfire erupted, and the white men were all killed before they could even fire their own guns.

Jingde shook the blood off his knife and glanced at the corpse on the ground.

"Damn it, I was trying to talk things out."

He cursed under his breath, then looked up toward the town, a violent glint in his eyes.

"Since shots have already been fired, let's not fucking sit here anymore. Let's go into town and slaughter all the white people first!"

As soon as he finished speaking, a commotion indeed came from the direction of the town.

Dozens of white men, alerted by the gunshots, poured out of the street with guns and rushed toward them.

"Get ready," Jingde said in a deep voice.

The twenty-four men quickly dispersed, loaded their rifles, and prepared to fire their revolvers.

The group of white men stopped a few dozen meters from the camp, and upon seeing the corpses on the ground, they erupted in angry roars.

"They were the ones who shot and killed them!!"

"Kill these crickets!"

"shot!"

Gunfire erupted again.

Bullets flew in from all directions, hitting tents, wagons, and rocks, sending up a spray of debris.

The suicide squad members lay prone behind the rocks, calmly aiming and firing.

A white man had just raised his gun when he was shot in the forehead and fell backward.

Another white man rushed too fast and was hit by two bullets at the same time, dying before he could even scream.

But there were many white people, and they kept pouring out of the town. The gunfire grew more frequent, and the bullets became increasingly rapid.

"Jingde, we can't keep fighting like this!" one of the suicide soldiers shouted. "There's too little cover here, and they outnumber us. If we get surrounded, we're doomed!"

Jingde gritted his teeth, peeked out from behind cover, and fired three shots, taking down two white men.

"Fight and retreat, retreat to where there are trees!"

The twenty-four men began to take turns providing cover, firing as they moved through the distant woods.

The white people pouring out of the town clung to them, bullets whizzing past their heels.

Just as one of the assassins stood up, a bullet struck his shoulder, and he groaned as he collapsed. His comrade immediately rushed over and dragged him behind a rock.

"Someone has been shot!"

"Oh shit!"

With red eyes, Jingde pulled a cylindrical object from his pocket, pulled out the ring at the bottom, and quickly threw it over.

The cylindrical object that fell into the crowd of white people hissed and emitted white smoke.

"What is this thing?" a white man asked curiously.

boom!

His response was a deafening explosion. The white men near the cylindrical object were instantly knocked down; those who were close by died immediately, while the survivors lay on the ground groaning in agony.

Jingde took out another one, pulled out the ring, and threw it to the other side.

boom!

The white people on the other side were also blown to pieces.

"If it's not Jingde, where did you get the grenades? Didn't those guys in the military industry group say they were still developing them?" one of the suicide bombers asked, his eyes wide.

"I asked for a few under the pretext of helping them test them in actual combat."

Jingde grinned and said, "Let's continue retreating into the woods. We'll play with them slowly!"

Just then, a burst of even more intense gunfire suddenly came from the direction of the town. It wasn't aimed at them, but elsewhere.

The white men, already deterred by the grenade explosions, slowed their advance even further when they heard gunfire behind them.

Jingde was also stunned.

He saw another group of men rushing down the hillside from the east side of the town, firing at the white men as they charged.

The leader was a lean man on horseback, shooting with both hands, his arrows never missing their mark.

"It's our people!" one of the assassins shouted excitedly. "It's Yuan Guang and his team!"

Previously, the lord sent two teams into Nevada, one from Chinatown and the other from the gold mines in the Coast Mountains.

Because they were two days apart, they didn't wait for the other side and chose to cross the Sierra Nevada Mountains first.

Now, they've arrived.

The battlefield situation reversed instantly.

The white people were caught in a pincer movement and immediately lost their composure.

Some turned and fired at the new enemy, some tried to run into the town, and some simply threw down their guns and surrendered.

But the bloodthirsty warriors showed no intention of surrendering.

The gunfire lasted for several minutes, and the white people who poured out all became victims of the gunfire.

A rough count suggests there are at least seventy or eighty bodies.

The leader of Yuan Guang's team of assassins walked over; his name was Zhang Long.

"Jingde, are you alright?"

Jingde shook his head, glancing at the scrapes on his shoulder. "It's nothing. You've come at the perfect time."

Zhang Long nodded and looked towards the town: "There are still people alive inside. What should we do?"

Jingde remained silent for a few seconds.

"Kill them all."

As night fell, Mormon Station had become a dead town.

The bodies in the street were dragged together, doused with kerosene, and burned.

Flames shot skyward, illuminating half the sky. Houses, shops, taverns, and sawmills were all set ablaze, burning fiercely.

Jingde stood on the hillside outside the town, looking at the sea of ​​fire below, his face expressionless.

Zhang Long walked to his side.

"We've taken stock. We have four dead and nine wounded. The white men—about 120 or 130 dead, and several dozen escaped, but we couldn't catch them."

Jingde nodded.

"Where's the mine?" Zhang Long asked. "Where is the mine that our lord told us to find?"

"We haven't looked yet," Jingde said. "We were planning to go into the mountains tomorrow, but those white bastards insisted on coming here to get themselves killed today."

He paused for a moment, then said, "We'll head into the mountains early tomorrow morning; let's rest today."

Zhang Long glanced at the burning town: "Shall we rest here?"

"Just set up camp somewhere else."

"

Jingde turned and walked towards the riverbank in the distance. "Remember to choose a spot with a good breeze; I don't want to smell the burnt odor, it's unpleasant."

"