Colonial Era: From Remnants to European Dominator

Taking advantage of the gaps in the morning mist, the jackals and leopards in the mountains followed the scent in the air and found the scattered flock of sheep at the foot of the mountain. However, due to the shepherd's bow and arrow, they only dared to observe from afar and dared not approach to plunder.

The shepherd's instincts were sharp. When the Altai sheepdog, who was acting as his assistant, barked loudly as a warning, the shepherd on horseback immediately drove the flock toward a nearby, hidden escape route.

[Derived from a cross between ancient Turkic dog breeds and steppe wolves.]

It is almost impossible to survive peacefully on the grasslands. Malnutrition due to the lack of vegetables and fruits, the constant hunger and cold, and even the killings by rival tribes have made the men, women, and children of the grasslands maintain a kind of beast-like instinct and rabbit-like cunning.

A while after the herdsman left, a troop of cavalry wearing iron-brimmed hats galloped up. The man with the short beard at the head dismounted, lay down on the still-warm sheep dung ball, and took a few deep breaths. Then he looked up and said to the others beside him in Kazakh:

"He's a shepherd, with only about twenty sheep."

As soon as the words were spoken, the cavalrymen began to clink their scimitars together, a gesture of their joy. After all, where there are sheep and shepherds, there is a tribe. With Tengri above them and that herd of damned Cossack donkeys following them, they hadn't had fresh mutton in a long time.

If it weren't for that damned Andrei having some brains and sharing some of the stored dried livestock meat and some coarse black bread with them, these noble Kazakhs might have ended up eating the "sins" that would never lead to heaven, just like these Cossack stray dogs who called themselves free but were actually still slaves.

[According to cultural tradition, Cossack and Kazakh are actually the same word, both meaning freedom in Turkic languages. They are translated words, only their pronunciations differ.]

"That guy can't have gone far, he's nearby with dozens of sheep. We don't even need to search this area; he must be hiding in that ravine over there. Hurry, after him!!"

Based solely on some sheep droppings along the way and his intuition as a fellow grassland dweller, the Kazakh military leader named Batel Karavich quickly determined the direction the herdsmen were in.

After all, they were all herders by origin and believed in the same gods. He knew exactly what the herder was thinking without even trying, just like Kublai Khan, the Yuan emperor who used Han lords to sweep across the northern deserts. He only led a few subordinates for less than half an hour before catching the herder hiding in a mountain valley in the northwest.

When the shepherd was captured, one could clearly see the sudden surge of terror on his terrified face—a look of incomprehensible regret. After all, he had searched this place for a long time before finally deciding it was a safe haven for his escape. How could he have been discovered so quickly? It was an injustice!

"Tell me, which tribe are you from?"

A sharp dagger grazed the shepherd's cheek, a gentle touch drawing a few drops of blood. As the blood dripped onto his collar, the shepherd's fear vanished, replaced by numbness. As a member of the grasslands, he knew all too well that even if he spoke out, he would not escape death. After all, integrity on the grasslands only existed when entertaining guests or when the forces were evenly matched. If the difference in strength was even slight, not only integrity, but even one's own parents could be betrayed.

The dagger grazed his cheek again, but this time no blood was drawn. Instead, he spoke emphatically to the shepherd in Turkic:

"I swear in the name of Tengri that when you tell me the truth, I will not harm your life, nor will I touch your family. If I break this oath, I will be condemned by Tengri and will never be able to go to heaven."

This is how it is sometimes among the people of the grasslands, or in places where civilization is not highly developed. When a person's integrity cannot be effectively guaranteed, then a certain deity will appear and use the worldview of "life and death cycle" to achieve a new balance and regain the lost trust.

The shepherd chose to believe Tengri, or perhaps he had no other choice, for the dagger was already at his neck, and he could only choose to believe that the other was truly a being of the same faith.

"I am from the Shuiyun tribe. My tribe is located about four mountain peaks away from here, and around two small rivers----"

Herdsmen have no concept of distance, or rather, apart from the hereditary nobles and even the elders and priests of the tribes, most people on the grasslands are in a state of naked illiteracy, even worse than illiteracy. After all, illiterate people in the Central Plains can still talk about units of measurement such as "li," "chi," and "mu," while people like herdsmen on the grasslands can only use mountain peaks, marshes, or even how many suns have risen and how many suns have set to describe specific distances or times.

If it weren't for the occasional festivals on the grasslands to worship the gods, the herdsmen probably wouldn't even remember their own ages.

Batel ultimately kept his promise and chose to release the herdsman, but only on the condition that he arrive at the tribe. As for the sheep, apart from a few left for the herdsman's family as a token of goodwill, the rest all became spoils of war for the Kazakh mercenaries.

"Lord Gyuz, should we tell the Cossacks about these sheep?"

[Gyuz is the official title of a centurion in the Kazakh army.]

Hearing the question from behind, Batel, who commanded a hundred-man team, spoke with disdain:

"Those lowly Cossack slaves, as worthless as mud and grass, are not worthy to be compared with my noble Kazakh warriors. If it weren't for earning money to support the elderly and children in our hometown, who would be willing to work for these slaves?"

"After all, we Kazakhs have our own Khan and our own country, while those poor Cossack man-eating insects are just a bunch of wild dogs wagging their tails and begging for mercy in front of the Tsar."

Bart said with a sneer that the sheep were getting heavier and heavier. He then ordered his men to drive all the sheep in the opposite direction from the main force, while he himself, accompanied by a squire from his hometown, went to fool the ugly, filthy Cossack leader, Andrei.

When Andrei saw Bart return, although he suspected that Bart had lost some men, he still wore a "you are my good subordinate" smile. After praising Bart's bravery, he continued to order the troops to head towards the treasure city that had already made the entire Tsarist colony excited.

However, during the journey, Andrei was particularly harsh in his eyes on those Kazakh cavalrymen who had lost and found their belongings and seemed to have hidden something.

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"This is the third inter-tribal conflict recently, but according to our reports, it's not a common occurrence among local tribes over water, pasture, cattle, and sheep. Rather, it's a pack of wolves from elsewhere stealing the livestock of local tribes, and even slaughtering them."

"Brother, this is no small matter and cannot be taken lightly—"

Perhaps because he's been spending too much time with Master Wang lately, Hu Wu has picked up some of that pedantic, bookish air about him, and his speech has become a bit more pleasant.

Li Yuanheng snapped the piece of evidence that the local tribe had just sent over—a fragment of a bullet casing. Because it had been soaked by rain on the way there, and because it was of poor quality, it broke with a single bend.

"The group of thugs who broke in were most likely from the Kazakh Khanate or the Rakshasa region, and perhaps even Persia."

The reason why he didn't directly confirm that it was Luo Sha was because Li Yuanheng was unsure whether Russia in this era had the ability to explore this place from deep in Siberia. After all, he was not a geographer and had not considered the dense water system in Siberia. He just felt that in the era without railways, trying to come here would be a thankless and arduous task.

"Thieves are like wolf packs; they mostly roam around committing crimes, eating wherever they go."

Li Yuanheng's sharp, thick eyebrows twitched a few times, slowly furrowing inwards as he looked down at the broken piece of iron, his eyes like a tiger's.

"If it were a large army from a neighboring country, they would have already reached the foot of Jinshan City. Why would they need to plunder along the way, stopping and starting? They are most likely a bandit group from afar."

"But these shrapnel fragments aren't something ordinary bandits would possess."

Hu Wu followed up with a reminder, a sense of pressure appearing in his eyes for the first time. After all, he had recently witnessed the power of firearms. No matter how confident he was in his martial prowess, he couldn't withstand the deafening barrage of artillery fire and the dense barrage of projectiles.

"The shrapnel only proves that the bandit group has an unusual background, it doesn't prove anything else. After all, in this Golden Mountain, even the Heavenly King himself wouldn't be of any use!"

That being said, Li Yuanheng was under more pressure than ever before. After all, most of the time, when dealing with those Qing dogs, you wouldn't actually see firearms. If you did, you'd have to fight your way to the gates of Kobdo. But he wasn't stupid. Looting and harassing the outer perimeter was where he could best utilize his strength. Why would he go and fight cannons head-on and invite trouble?

With a "crack," the two pieces of shrapnel on the ground were crushed. After doing all this, Li Yuanheng picked up the gleaming pistol that was kept next to his armor and walked directly out of the military camp.

"You shall organize your troops here. This time, do not bring the Guard Battalion's men; only bring my Eagle Division headquarters."

Mounting Zidian, Li Yuanheng pulled on the reins and, facing Hu Wu who was signaling for the camp gate to be opened, gave him another instruction:

"The third team currently has only about sixty muskets. Send someone to the musket workshop and tell Master Wang that the remaining muskets must be repaired within three days, and bullets and gunpowder also need to be produced as soon as possible."

"As for the cannonballs, make as many as you can. Give me a third, and leave the rest in the prefectural city, along with the ones we've accumulated over the years, just in case—"

Having said that, Zidian gripped the horse's belly with both legs and leaped over the fence that usually blocked its way. Hu Wu, who witnessed all this, pulled the "bugle" at his waist and gathered the entire camp at the drill ground in just three or four minutes.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, the Cossacks were continuing their old ways, skewering mischievous children on wooden forks and then showcasing their unique culinary skills.