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

Chapter 97, Commander Wool, of the Federal Army Pacific Command, confirmed the resolution.

Just as Dutch and his three associates were stirring up trouble on Wall Street in New York.

Oregon, Oregon City.

Baiyun led three hundred Native American warriors and spent several days successfully reaching the vicinity of the city.

"It's going to be tough."

On a cliff not far away, under the cover of vegetation, Baiyun took out a monocular telescope, looked at the terrain of Oregon City, and couldn't help but click his tongue.

Like most American cities, Oregon City has no walls, but that doesn't mean it's easy to attack.

The city is situated on a narrow strip of land north of Wiramit Falls, bordered by the Wiramit River to the west and the steep Singh Mountains to the east.

The entire city is like an isolated island sandwiched between rivers, cliffs, and waterfalls, with only the stream to the north barely serving as a passage for attack.

Although the stream was neither wide nor deep, it was enough to slow down the attack and allow the people in the city to prepare to flee to the cliffs to the east.

At that point, we can take advantage of the high ground and shoot down the low ground. Even if the white people don't have very good guns, we can still beat them into idiots.

"Why fight? Wool isn't here anymore."

Suddenly, a rustling sound came from behind Baiyun, and a white figure emerged from the woods.

He turned around and saw that the man was wearing an ordinary gray-brown coat and a wide-brimmed hat, and was lying down next to him without any hesitation.

Bai Yun exclaimed in surprise, "Leon? You actually came here in person?"

"I will naturally not be absent from a mission personally assigned by my lord," Leon said matter-of-factly.

He took out a map, unfolded it in front of Baiyun, and pointed to a small dot on the map, saying, "Half a month ago, Wool led his men to Dalberg in the northeast."

"Dalsburg?" Bai Yun leaned closer to examine the map. "How far is it from here? What's its defense like?"

Leon said, "About eighty miles. A brick and stone fortress, pentagonal in design, with a tower at each corner, topped with cannons, and garrisoned by a company. Including the one Wool brought, there are currently two companies inside."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

Bai Yun immediately put away his binoculars, patted the dirt off his clothes, and said, "I'll take my men straight there and kill him."

"It's not that easy!"

Leon grabbed his arm and shook his head, saying, "The city walls there are high and thick; a direct confrontation would only result in unnecessary losses for our own people."

Bai Yun glanced at him and asked in return, "So, you have a good idea?"

"There is one."

Leon grinned and said, "But you'll need to wait here for a few days."

"Oregon City sends supplies to Dal'Fort every two weeks. Judging by the dates, the next supply is tomorrow."

Bai Yun's eyes lit up: "You mean, a secret operation?"

"Bingo!"

Leon snapped his fingers and recounted the intelligence he had gathered: "The supply convoy is being escorted by the Oregon City militia, who send about twenty men each time."

The person in charge of the delivery this time is McCormick, a white rancher. The Dark Angels have a few cowboys working for him, which comes in handy.

Bai Yun nodded: "Understood. After we get in, contact Sachem and ask him to use subspace teleportation to send us in, so we can have a central attack."

"That's right."

Leon said, "The fortress's cannons are all pointed outwards, toward the river and the surrounding open ground. The people inside were completely unprepared. Who would have thought that the enemy could appear out of nowhere in their backyard? By the time we showed up on the drill ground, they didn't even have time to grab their guns."

He paused, then continued, "When the time comes, you will send another hundred men to guard outside the fortress, blocking all the exits, and launch a pincer attack. Not one of them will be able to escape."

the next day.

A thin layer of mist covered the river outside Oregon City.

Five freight wagons were parked by the river, and the militiamen responsible for transporting the goods were loading flour, salted meat, beans, and other grains onto the wagons. Wooden crates and sacks were piled high and tied tightly with thick ropes to prevent them from scattering on the road.

McCormick, who was in charge, stood to the side, holding a list and checking each item one by one.

"Four thousand pounds of flour, three thousand pounds of salted meat, fifteen hundred pounds of beans, and two hundred pounds of salt—that should be all."

"Mr. McCormick." A voice suddenly came from behind him.

"Leon?"

McCormick was somewhat surprised; he naturally recognized the kid who had drunk him out in the pub.

This guy hasn't been in Oregon City for long, but he has an amazing capacity for alcohol. Last month at the Lumberjacks' House bar, he got seven people, including himself, drunk in one go, and became famous ever since.

"Did you need something from me?"

"I have some friends up north who asked me to bring them some things. Would it be convenient for them to hitch a ride with you?"

Leon smiled and patted the canvas bag slung over his shoulder. "Of course, I'll definitely pay for the journey."

McCormick glanced at him, then at the bag, but didn't ask any further questions. In border areas like this, it's common to help people carry things; asking too many questions would only annoy people.

"Come on up," he waved his hand. "Find a seat yourself."

"Thank you." Leon got into one of the carriages.

"Set off!"

With a shout, the five carriages began to move forward.

They first had to go around to the bottom of the waterfall, reach the dock there, and then take a boat to Dalberg.

The boat traveled for two full days on the Willamette and Columbia Rivers.

The following afternoon, the outline of Dalberg finally appeared on the cliffs along the riverbank.

This is a fortress built of brick and stone, with a pentagonal design and a circular tower at each corner. The main gate faces south, and outside the gate is a moat with water drawn from a river nearby, spanned by a drawbridge.

The silhouettes of sentries could be vaguely seen on the top of the wall, along with several bronze cannons, their dark muzzles pointing towards the river.

McCormick's ship docked at the pier, and he shouted towards the wall, "From Oregon City! Supply courier!"

The sentry on the wall looked down, recognized McCormick's face, and waved.

The suspension bridge creaked and groaned as it was lowered, and several soldiers came out of the fortress to help tie the cables and set up the planks.

The leader was a lieutenant with a large beard. He took the list, looked at it, went back onto the ship, glanced at it again, and nodded: "Move it in, still warehouse number three."

Leon jumped down from the carriage, waved goodbye to McCormick, and walked out of the fortress.

McCormick didn't pay any attention and told the people on the ship to start unloading.

The interior of the fortress was much wider than it appeared from the outside, with a square drill ground in the center and barracks, warehouses, and stables surrounding it.

After moving the last box of supplies, the sky had already turned golden.

The lieutenant planned to take them to the mess hall for a meal first, then rest in the barracks for the night before returning to Oregon City the next day.

At that moment, several of them exchanged glances, and one of them suddenly shouted.

"Sir, where is the restroom? My stomach hurts."

The lieutenant frowned and turned to the soldier beside him: "Jack, you take him there."

"Yes, sir."

The soldier named Jack saluted, walked over to the man, and said, "Come with me."

The two walked westward, one after the other, past the stables and warehouses, and soon arrived at a secluded place. There stood several simple toilets, made of wooden planks, that smelled of lime.

"It's right there, hurry—"

Before he could finish speaking, Jack felt a sudden, sharp pain in his waist. He tried to open his mouth to scream, but his mouth was covered and he couldn't make a sound. He just fainted from the pain.

The man behind Jack stabbed him in the heart and began contacting Leon, who was waiting outside the fortress: "Boss, you can use me as an anchor point for teleportation now."

Soon, the air in front of him began to distort, like the heat waves of summer rising up.

Groups of figures appeared out of thin air in the open space near the toilet. Their faces were painted with dark grenades, they carried rifles on their backs, held revolvers in their hands, and had several wooden-handled grenades hanging from their waists.

Two hundred Native American warriors were transported to Dalberg from the mountains eighty miles away in an instant.

At the same time, outside the fortress, the air behind Leon began to distort.

One hundred Native American warriors appeared in neat rows on the open ground behind him, crouching with their guns pointed forward.

Without needing to give verbal orders, they immediately took off in several teams and rushed towards the city gates to block the exits.

The sentry on the wall was the first to notice the anomaly.

His mind went blank for a second, then he suddenly realized what was happening, grabbed the bugle next to him, and started blowing it as hard as he could.

"Da di di dou! Da di di dou!"

The urgent bugle call immediately resounded throughout Dalberg, but before long, a bullet pierced his skull.

"We've been discovered."

Baiyun ejected the spent cartridges from his rifle and instructed, "Everyone, split into four teams. One team will go to the mess hall, one team will go to the barracks, and one team will follow me to attack the brick building where Wool is located."

"Last team, go to the city wall and take care of the Americans guarding it, as well as the rest of the Americans!"

Inside the cafeteria.

The American soldiers who were eating were stunned when they heard the voice, and their expressions changed drastically.

This bugle call meant only one thing: the enemy was attacking!

"Go to the ammunition depot, get the gun!"

An officer shouted loudly, drew his Colt from his waist, and strode out of the mess hall to the city wall to give orders.

But the moment he stepped out of the cafeteria, his eyes widened suddenly, revealing an expression of disbelief.

Because just a short distance ahead of him, dozens of Native Americans appeared before him. These warriors, their faces painted with graffiti, held rifles, the muzzles pointed directly at him.

"How is that possible? How did they get in?"

These words flashed through his mind, but he hadn't even drawn his gun yet.

boom!

A gunshot rang out, and several sprays of blood erupted from the officer's chest. He fell backward and crashed onto the threshold of the canteen.

"Grenade!"

The lead soldier didn't even glance at the fallen officer, shouting, "Pour it all into this! Let them taste what this stuff is like!"

The soldiers behind him immediately pulled out long-handled grenades from their waists, pulled out the bottom pins, and threw them in.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Dozens of grenades exploded in the canteen, flashes and shrapnel sweeping across everything, screams echoing everywhere.

Then, the shockwave, carrying flames, burst out from all the holes in the building, completely blowing the wooden dining hall away. Splinters of planks, pots and pans, and human remains flew everywhere, falling like rain.

"Cough cough cough, cough cough cough."

Twenty meters away, the lead soldier, his face dark, got up from the ground, coughing uncontrollably: "Wait, is the power of dozens of grenades exploding at once really that great?"

The soldier behind him, brushing dust off his head, said irritably, "How many kilograms of explosives do you think it is?"

The lead soldier glanced at the pile of rubble and chuckled, "At least the outcome is good; there shouldn't be any survivors inside."

Meanwhile, at the barracks.

Some of the American soldiers who had already finished eating were startled by the gunfire and quickly picked up the muzzle-loading rifles placed on the gun rack and began to line up outside.

Everyone was shocked when they saw the Native Americans charging towards them from afar.

"Damn it, it's the Native Americans! The Native Americans have invaded!"

"Grab your weapons! Line up immediately!"

"My God, how did they get in?!"

Before the ranks were even fully formed, the Native Americans' powerful firepower dealt a heavy blow to the American troops.

With just one volley, the American troops lined up in front of the barracks suffered heavy casualties, blood flowing everywhere, lying on the ground groaning in pain.

The survivors tried to return fire, but before they could even load their gunpowder and lead bullets, the Indians on the other side began their second volley.

The American soldiers, who hadn't even left their homes yet, were terrified by the terrifying speed of the gunfire and the deaths of their comrades.

They quickly retreated back into the barracks, closed the door, and blocked it with beds and wooden crates. Then they stuck their guns out of the windows and door cracks and fired, trying to stop the Native Americans.

But all of this was in vain.

With dozens of grenades falling into the barracks, the resistance inside came to an end.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Flames shot out from every window of the barracks, a corner of the roof was ripped off, and splinters of wood and cloth flew everywhere.

"The mess hall and barracks have been taken care of, where else do we need to send people?"

As an Indian warrior finished off the corpses on the ground with his revolver, he asked a question.

"There shouldn't be any left, right?"

Another Indian warrior listened intently and heard the gunfire inside the fortress gradually subside.

"Listen, the gunshots are only sporadic; they've probably all been taken out."

Brick building.

This two-story red brick building, located at the northernmost part of Dalberg, served as Wool's command post.

Wool lay slumped behind his desk, a revolver still clutched in his hand, unfired. Two bullet holes pierced his chest, and blood had soaked through his uniform.

He never understood how the Native Americans had appeared out of nowhere inside the fortress until his death.

Bai Yun stood in front of the desk, looking at the aging face that was gradually losing its color, and said in a low voice, "Commander Wool of the Federal Army Pacific Command, confirmed the problem is resolved."

He turned to the soldiers beside him and ordered, "Search the entire fortress one last time, and leave no survivors."

"The bodies of Wool and the other officers were collected and made into candied apples. They were hung outside the fortress so that those who came to collect the bodies could have a good look at them."

"Yes, boss."

E