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

Chapter 80 American Doubt and British Self-Doubt

Chinatown.

Zeng Tai lay in a rocking chair, leisurely reading a newspaper.

The front page of the newspaper was printed with the headline: "California Commercial Bank Collapses, Thousands of Depositors Lose Everything."

"Well done."

Jian Yuan grinned, "That Slytherin kid, he acted pretty well. I heard that when he pulled out his bankbook on the spot, Howard's face turned green."

Zeng Tai smiled, picked up the teacup next to him, and took a sip.

"How's Howard doing now?"

"He's still hiding in the bank, and there are hundreds of people outside, all there to collect debts. These past few days he's been frantically contacting other banks and businesses, trying to borrow money to tide him over, but who dares to lend him any?"

Jian Yuan paused, then made a throat-slitting gesture: "Should we send someone—"

"No need, just let him fend for himself."

Zeng Tai waved his hand and said, "A bankrupt banker is more intimidating than a dead banker."

Jianyuan nodded.

Zeng Tai asked, "What about the plague situation?"

Jian Yuan's smile faded, and he said seriously, "With the elections these past few days, crowds have gathered, and the virus has spread quite a bit. There are dozens of new cases in the missionary district, more than a dozen in the port area, and even one in Chinatown."

Zeng Tai clicked his tongue and said, "That unlucky guy from Chinatown was sent to the clinic. I remember sulfonamides can treat the plague."

"As for the white-majority areas, tell the incoming Thomas that there's no need for lockdowns; let the plague spread freely. We have sulfonamides, so we can handle even if there are a few more unlucky souls in Chinatown."

However, the sanitation issue still needs to be addressed. The city council should allocate funds, and the police should continue the sanitation work. Demolish what needs to be demolished, clean what needs to be cleaned, and bury what needs to be buried.

Jian Yuan nodded in agreement and smiled, "No one outside would ever imagine that after the re-election, the mayor, councilors, and judges will still be our own people."

"Unfortunately, Hosea really didn't want to be the police chief anymore, so we'll have to choose another one from his henchmen."

.

Zeng Tai sighed, "After Daqi came back a few days ago, Hosea insisted on going out and making his way in the world with him."

Jian Yuan asked, "My lord, are they planning to go to New York?"

Zeng Tai said, "It's New York. They even applied to me for the right to use gold bricks and aluminum blocks, saying they were going to pull off a big heist."

"Did they all go?"

"Of course not."

Zeng Tai shook his head and said, "Most of the Van der Linde gang members stayed in California and continued their risk-free business."

Only Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, and Strauss went over there.

As he spoke, he got up from the recliner, stretched, and went to the stable to lead out his little mare.

"Alright, lying here is boring. Let's take a few men and go hunting outside the city."

"Yes, my lord!"

Meanwhile, in Oregon City.

This is a small town located on the banks of the Willamette River, with wooden houses lined up along the riverbank.

The military camp is situated on a high point in the north of the city, overlooking the entire city of Oregon and the winding river.

At that moment, Brigadier General Wool was sitting in his office, holding two letters from California, his face ashen.

The first letter arrived five days ago, from the two team leaders he had sent to California.

"The governor was assassinated, the California Democratic Party and the American Party broke off relations, and militias in Southern California clashed with those in Northern California, resulting in nearly 100 deaths and injuries. The situation may further spiral out of control."

To be honest, when he saw the letter five days ago, he was a little shocked, but he didn't take it seriously.

It's just a civil war; one broke out in Kansas last year.

Moreover, given the current tensions between slave states and free states, there may be an even larger civil war waiting for the American people in the future.

Unexpectedly, he received another letter five days later.

But this letter was what truly broke his defenses.

"The First and Second Dragoon Regiments engaged in battle with Indian forces on the edge of the Central Valley, suffering heavy losses. Colonel Norton and Colonel McCarthy were killed in action, and fewer than five hundred survived."

Wool closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

lost heavily.

Eighteen hundred soldiers, two elite dragoon regiments, a well-trained and well-equipped regular army of the United States.

That's it, gone.

He opened his eyes and read the details of the letter again.

"The Indian troops numbered over a thousand, equipped with three large-caliber artillery pieces, ten rapid-fire weapons, and all rifles were breech-loading; their firepower far surpassed that of our army."

The enemy artillery had a range of at least two kilometers, and our artillery units were completely unable to retaliate. During our advance, they were suppressed by enemy artillery fire and all were killed in action.

When the cavalry charge was intercepted by the enemy cavalry, the infantry lines suffered heavy casualties under the enemy's rapid-fire weapons.

Wool put down the letter, his pupils contracting.

"The Englishman," he murmured.

Only the British have the capability and the motivation to do this.

Those guns and cannons, those well-trained Native American soldiers—these were things the natives could never have made on their own.

There are powerful forces supporting them behind the scenes, providing them with weapons, training, and possibly even command.

The most likely culprit is the British.

They have colonies, military bases, and factories in Canada, giving them the capability to smuggle weapons into California.

Moreover, the British had always sought opportunities to weaken American power on the West Coast, and they had ample reason to do so.

Suddenly, the door was pushed open, and an advisor walked in.

"General, the commanders of all the regiments have arrived."

Wool, who was behind his desk, looked up, rubbed his temples, and said, "Let them in."

Several men dressed in various styles filed in; some were officers of the regular army, some were leaders of the local militia, and one was the newly appointed governor of the Oregon Territory.

A so-called quasi-governor is similar to a governor, but is directly appointed by the US president.

As governor, his jurisdiction was vast, encompassing parts of the future states of Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming.

Without wasting any words, Wool pushed the letter out directly.

"Take a look."

As the letter was passed around, the expressions on the faces of the people around them grew increasingly grim.

"Both regiments are gone?" Governor George Law Corley exclaimed. "How is this possible?"

Wool did not answer his question, but simply said, "As Commander of the Pacific Division of the Union Army, I am now issuing a military order."

From this moment forward, all Oregon militias are to consolidate their defenses. Towns are to increase vigilance, patrols are to remain at their posts, and any suspicious activity must be reported immediately.

"The Third and Fourth Regiments are on combat readiness, ready to respond to any emergencies."

An officer blinked and asked, "General, do you mean we're not sending troops to California?"

"Send troops? What kind of troops?"

Wool looked at him and said coldly, "We only have two regiments of regular troops left. If we send them to California, are they a match for the Native American army there with its advanced weaponry?"

They've just finished two groups; do you think they can handle a third or fourth?

"But, but—"

The officer cautiously asked, "California is, after all, our most important state on the West Coast. Are we just going to let the Native Americans run rampant like this?"

Wool stood up, walked to the map hanging on the wall, and pointed to the location of California.

"California is already in chaos. If North and South California go to war, any Native American uprisings will only be a minor inconvenience. Sending troops back now won't solve California's problems."

"And if the regular army all leaves, what will happen to Oregon? Will the British send troops south from Canada? Will the Native American tribes here also be incorporated into the British?"

Governor Curry frowned. "General Wool, do you believe the masterminds behind these events are all British?"

After a few seconds of silence, Wool nodded: "The British, only the British."

He surveyed the room and said slowly, "Therefore, we cannot act rashly. We must first hold Oregon and ascertain the situation before making any further moves. At the same time, we should send someone by ship to Washington to report to the federal government and await their support and instructions."

"As for California, may God bless them."

Sacramento.

A few days after the dragoon soldiers returned, the newspaper, having gathered enough information from them, published an explosive article.

Two dragoon legions suffer heavy losses? Who is supporting the Native American mobs?!

The article, which took up two full pages, detailed the advanced weapons equipped by the Native American troops and pointed out that these weapons could not have been manufactured by the Native Americans themselves, and must have been supported by a certain industrial power behind the scenes.

Looking across the Pacific coast, only Britain has the capability and the motivation to do so.

"The British have always coveted our west coast," the article states. "Through the Canadian colonies, they have continuously supplied weapons to the Indigenous peoples, attempting to create chaos within our borders and thus profit from it."

The annihilation of two dragoon regiments is irrefutable proof! Eighteen hundred brave American soldiers did not die from Native American arrows, but from a British conspiracy!

The newspaper sold out immediately upon publication.

People were talking about it everywhere.

The atmosphere in Sacramento grew increasingly somber.

People were already on edge because of the impending war between Northern and Southern California, fearing that the war would affect them.

Now you're telling me the fuck the British were backing the Native American riots? They've even lost two regiments of regular troops?

What if the Indians continue their siege? Stockton is gone, will Sacramento be next?

Some timid people even chose to sell their possessions and leave California, this troublesome place, with their entire families.

As the newspaper spread far and wide, it soon reached the British consulate.

The British Consulate in San Francisco.

This is a two-story brick building located on Montgomery Street.

The building has a gray exterior, white window frames, a British flag hanging at the entrance, and a sign in gold that reads "Consulate of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland".

In an office on the second floor, Consulate Secretary William Lane Booker sat at his desk, holding a Sacramento newspaper that had just been delivered.

His brow furrowed deeper and deeper, until finally he stood up, grabbed the newspaper, and strode quickly toward the consul's office next door.

"Mr. George! Mr. George!"

Consul George Aiken was processing documents when he heard the shout and immediately looked up. The man was an elderly man in his fifties with gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard.

"What's wrong, William?" he asked calmly and deliberately.

Booker handed him the newspaper, pointing to the front-page article and saying, "Take a look at this."

Aiken took the newspaper and read it line by line. His expression changed from calm to serious, and then from serious to gloomy.

He put down his newspaper and scoffed, "Ridiculous! When have we ever given weapons to the Indians?"

Booker asked cautiously, "Consul, is this true or false?"

Aiken glanced at him and said irritably, "Of course it's not true. I've been here for five years. Do you think I don't know better than you whether I've done such a thing or not?"

But deep down he wasn't sure either.

After all, this tactic of supporting opposing armed groups in other countries and acting as a troublemaker through divide and rule looks exactly like something our own people would do.

This is something the British Empire has always done; they did it during the American Revolutionary War, and later in India and South Africa.

However, he certainly couldn't admit it verbally.

Booker nodded sheepishly, then asked, "Should we issue a statement to refute the rumors?"

Aiken was silent for a few seconds, then shook his head: "What's the use of debunking rumors? Americans love reading these kinds of articles. They even blame British-made toilets for not being comfortable enough when they can't poop!"

Even if we refute the rumors, they'll only think we're guilty.

He paused, then said to Booker, "However, this intelligence is still useful. Compile all the intelligence from California these days and send it all back to London."

Booker paused for a moment, then asked, "All the intelligence?"

"all."

Aiken emphasized, "The Northern California serial murders, the Bigler assassination, the partisan civil war, the Indian uprising, the destruction of the Dragoons—all of these are necessary."

"In addition, that Chinatown, that suddenly emerging Chinese force, is also included."

"Huh?" Booker asked, puzzled. "Is this really necessary? They're just a bunch of Chinese guys."

"Of course it's necessary; they're expanding too fast!"

Aiken's expression turned serious: "Two years ago, Chinatown was just a place where a group of poor Chinese laborers lived. It was dirty and chaotic, and nobody cared."

But what about now? They've unified the entire Chinatown, control a large portion of San Francisco's industries, and even have their own armed forces. You've seen those guys in dark uniforms; they're highly trained, obey orders without question, and act more like police than the police themselves.

"More importantly, they easily wiped out the vigilance committee that attacked them."

You know that committee, right? Hundreds of white armed gunmen ran rampant in San Francisco for years.

And the result? It was gone overnight. This is something that ordinary Chinese forces could not accomplish.

"If it weren't for the fact that they didn't have queues on their heads, I would have suspected that these people were sent by the Qing Dynasty."

Booker's expression also turned serious: "Understood, sir. I'll go and get it sorted out right away."

He turned and left the office, closing the door behind him.

Aiken sat alone in his office, picked up the newspaper on his desk, and read the front-page article again.

"The more I look at it, the more it seems like our doing," he muttered. "Could those damn bureaucrats back home have done this behind the Ministry of Foreign Affairs' back?"