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

Rong Hong looked surprised and suspicious: "Send more Han people over? Why?"

"Naturally, we will transform this land into a new home for the Han people."

I once picked up a piece of braised pork belly with alternating layers of fat and lean meat, its color a bright red, and put it in my mouth. The fat melted and the aroma lingered on my lips and teeth.

He said, "Just like what Qin Shi Huang did after conquering the Baiyue, Emperor Wu of Han after taking over the Hetao region, and Emperor Taizong after taking over the northern desert, expanding the territory naturally requires immigrants to settle the borders."

"But California is already a state of the United States, and Han Chinese don't have the right to vote..."

Yung Wing stopped abruptly halfway through his sentence, and finally asked incredulously, "Mr. Tsang, you intend to take over California?"

"Why not?"

He once casually remarked: "Nine years ago, during the Mexican-American War, the United States seized this vast state of California from Mexico with only two or three thousand troops."

Today, the entire population of California, including whites, Hispanics, Native Americans, and Han Chinese, is only around 200,000.

Of these, Han Chinese make up one-tenth. If the strategy is sound, it's not impossible to repeat the "snake swallowing an elephant" tactic and accomplish a world-changing feat.

Upon hearing this, not only Rong Hong, but also Chen Long standing to the side were stunned speechless for a long time.

They originally thought that all they wanted was to fight for a stable place for Chinese people in a foreign land, to strive for equal rights, and even to make achievements in business and politics.

But now it seems he's ambitious and wants to establish his own independent regime!

Having caught a glimpse of the shock on their faces, he chuckled softly, "What? You don't believe me? You think that with my current strength, accomplishing this is nothing but a pipe dream?"

He stood up, dusted off his sleeves, and said, "Seeing is believing. I happen to have a newly made weapon that I want to test today. You two come with me to a place, and after you see it, you may understand why I dare to make this suggestion."

The three of them hastily finished their lunch and, led by Zeng, left Yuanfanglou.

Outside the gate of Yuanfang Tower, dozens of upright soldiers carrying standard-issue rifles stood waiting, and their horses were ready.

Once Zeng Jing, Rong Hong, and Chen Long had mounted their horses, the assassins quickly mounted their own as well, forming a guard formation and escorting the three away from Jackson Street, speeding out of the city.

An hour later, in a secluded valley.

The valley entrance was narrow, easy to defend and difficult to attack. The assassins quickly dispersed, occupying the high ground around them, while guarding the only exit of the valley and keeping watch for any disturbance.

He then led Rong Hong and Chen Long deep into the valley and arrived at a wide, flat area.

The vegetation here has been simply cleared away. At the deepest part of the valley stand several walls made of wooden planks and bricks, with a dozen or so wooden human-shaped targets scattered around the walls at varying distances.

Not far in front of them was a strangely shaped piece of equipment:

It was mounted on two sturdy wooden wheel supports, and at its core were ten parallel barrels that gleamed with a cold metallic luster. Next to the barrels was a crank handle, and next to it were several long metal magazines.

He pointed to the middle-aged man standing next to the strange equipment and said, "Let me introduce you. Gan Jiang is the head of my weapons team. His specific responsibility is to develop various firearms and ammunition."

The two people were slightly taken aback upon hearing the name.

Gan Jiang nodded to the two men as a greeting. Then he said, "My lord, everything is ready. May we begin the experiment?"

He waved his hand and said, "No rush. Let's explain the machine gun's specifications to these two first, so they won't be confused."

"Yes, my lord."

Gan Jiang looked at Rong Hong and the other man, pointed to the machine, and began to introduce it: "Gentlemen, this is called the Danger Type 1 machine gun. The main body consists of ten barrels, which are driven by a hand crank to rotate and fire sequentially. The theoretical rate of fire is about four hundred rounds per minute."

It is compatible with .45 caliber metal ammunition and uses a top-mounted, upright long magazine. An adjustment gear and directional dial are located below the barrel, allowing for precise adjustment of the lateral and elevation angles of fire, enabling either wide-spread or concentrated fire.

After the introduction, Gan Jiang said no more. He picked up a long magazine full of gleaming yellow bullets, deftly inserted it into the feed port on top of the machine gun, then gripped the crank handle on the side, took a deep breath, and began to turn it at a steady pace.

"Da da da, da da da, da da da."

With each half-turn of the crank, a gun barrel emitted a bright flash, and a series of crisp gunshots rang out.

Bullets rained down on the distant targets and brick walls like a storm. Stone dust flew from the brick walls, which were quickly riddled with honeycomb-like bullet holes. The targets shattered and splintered wood, instantly becoming unrecognizable.

A dozen seconds later, the gunfire stopped, and the smoke from the black powder filled the air.

He fanned himself with his hand and frowned, saying, "There are too many black powder residues. I wonder when Su Song will be able to develop smokeless gunpowder technology."

"Then you'll have to wait a while, my lord."

Gan Jiang took out an empty magazine and shrugged: "Although the chemistry team has produced a lot of nitrocellulose, the output is not even enough to make film."

Furthermore, nitroglycerin certainly can't be produced in Chinatown; you know the explosive power of that stuff. We need to find a new, secluded, and safe location. Add to that the purchase and development of new equipment, and even if everything goes smoothly, it will still take at least six months.

He once complained, "Aren't you in the weapons team? How come you know more than I do?"

Gan Jiang checked the temperature of the gun barrel and said, "We see each other all the time, and everyone knows the progress of each group."

Meanwhile, Rong Hong and Chen Long on the other side were so shocked by the scene before them that they were speechless.

The destructive power displayed in those brief ten seconds was far more impactful than Gan Jiang's straightforward explanation.

They had seen firearms before, flintlock rifles, Minié rifles, and revolvers, but they had never seen such a continuous, relentless storm of metal, like the scythe of death reaping everything in its path.

Four hundred shots per minute!

What does this mean?

This means that any densely packed infantry or cavalry formation would become a sitting duck in the face of its barrage.

This means that as long as it is set up at a key pass or on a city wall, it is enough to make one man hold the pass against ten thousand!

Rong Hong swallowed hard and asked eagerly, "Mr. Zeng, are these the weapons you intend to sell to the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom?"

"That's right, mainly this Danko Type 1 machine gun and another rifle."

He nodded, then casually picked up a Pacific Type 1 rifle from the side and tossed it into Yung Wing's arms. "This is an improved version of the Sharps breech-loading rifle that I made; it's faster, has a longer range, and is more powerful."

"It uses the same type of ammunition as the machine gun, which can effectively reduce logistical burden."

He gestured invitingly: "Mr. Rong, you've used Sharps, haven't you? Why don't you try out this Pacific Type 1 yourself?"

Yung Wing also used a Sharps rifle; after all, hunting was a frequent activity at Yale.

He carefully examined the rifle in his hand. The stock had a fine texture and a smooth, warm feel. The barrel was thick and straight, exuding the quality of meticulous craftsmanship.

He took a gleaming yellow bullet from his hand.

Pull the lever to lower the boom bolt and load a bullet.

He rested the butt of his rifle on his shoulder and aimed at the damaged target not far away.

"Bang!"

With a crisp gunshot, the wooden target in the distance exploded into a cloud of wood chips, having been accurately hit.

"Great gun!"

Yung Wing lowered his gun, his face showing excitement: "I never expected to see weapons here that far surpass those of Western countries."

"After all, the wisdom of the Han people has never been inferior to that of any other race."

He once smiled slightly and said, "If we hadn't invented gunpowder, those foreigners would still be playing horseback riding and sword fighting in the Middle Ages. Without our invention of the compass and paper, their Renaissance and Age of Exploration would be out of the question."

"The current weakness is nothing more than a little bit of hardship."

Upon hearing these words, the pent-up frustration in Rong Hong's chest caused by the decline of the nation seemed to be dispelled by a scorching force.

He took a deep breath, solemnly handed over the rifle, and then said, "Mr. Zeng, no, my lord, Rong Hong is willing to serve you as your subordinate!"

"I can return to my country at any time to contact the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom for you, my lord, to discuss arms trade."

"This matter is not urgent."

He waved his hand and said with a smile, "Let me introduce you to someone first, Zhao Sanjin, come here."

A bodyguard with a braid down his back strode quickly from the direction of the valley entrance and bowed respectfully before Zeng Zi: "My lord."

He pointed to Zhao Sanjin and said, "Sanjin is a member of the Hongmen and is quite familiar with the internal communication channels of secret societies. A month later, you will travel back by boat with him."

With him leading the way, and with some men providing protection, establishing contact with the Taiping Army would be much smoother and safer.

Rong Hong suddenly understood, then asked with some confusion, "My lord, why do we have to wait another month? Is there some goods that need to be prepared?"

He once said, "The primary reason is that the production of the Danko Type 1 machine gun takes time. This one is just a prototype, and the ones for official sale have not yet been produced."

"Secondly, my ship is still adrift in the Pacific Ocean and will not arrive for another twenty days."

The people from Xieyitang have already gone to work in the mines and sawmills, so their pig-shaped boat, which hasn't even docked yet, naturally belongs to them.

"For the next month, Yung Wing, you will work with Gan Jiang to familiarize yourself with the detailed structure, operation, maintenance, and even tactical applications of these firearms. Knowing yourself and your enemy will allow you to speak with substance and respond with ease when negotiating with buyers in the future."

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.

Meanwhile, the coastal mountains.

Leon arrived at the camp between the two gold mines with a team consisting of a dozen bodyguards and several cargo wagons.

The rough wooden door creaked open as Yuan Guang and his men came forward, smiling as he asked, "Leon, what good things have you brought us?"

"That's too many."

Leon pointed to the several carriages behind him and grinned: "I've added forty miners for you, all from the Chinatown gangs. Keep a close eye on them. My lord has also added ten guards for you, these are the ones behind me."

He walked to the first carriage covered with an oilcloth, lifted a corner to reveal neatly stacked wooden crates inside.

"In addition, I brought you twenty Pacific Type 1 rifles and twenty newly designed revolvers, along with ten boxes of ammunition."

And a mixture of black powder and picric acid for mining, equipped with detonators. It's quite powerful, so handle with care.

Then he pointed to the two carriages in the middle, both heavy freight wagons pulled by eight horses. On the wagons, two steel monsters with boilers and piston rods were secured by ropes.

"Two ore-carrying camel-shaped machines. These things can burn coal or wood, and since there are plenty of forests around here, we have enough fuel."

He paused, then continued, "Oh, and I also brought you two doctors, Dr. Zhang Zhongjing and Dr. Joseph Lister."

As he spoke, two men with very different demeanors stepped out of the car. One was a man of European descent with black hair and brown eyes, wearing a simple but neat coat; the other was an elderly Chinese man with a peaceful expression, wearing a dark long gown.

"They would help the people in the mines with medical checkups, and also kill mosquitoes, fleas and rats in their homes to prevent outbreaks of infectious diseases and other problems."

"This is truly a timely help."

Yuan Guang's eyes lit up, and he immediately stepped forward and cupped his hands in greeting. "Gentlemen, you've come at just the right time! There are a few people in the camp who have been experiencing alternating chills and fever, feeling weak all over, and have been lying in bed for several days. I sent someone to the town down the mountain to buy medicine, but the foreign pharmacist there only gave them tincture of opium or laxatives."

"Even though I'm not a medical expert, I know these two things aren't for treating colds. There's nothing I can do but let those people rest more and feed them more hot water."

"It's probably malaria; it's a common disease in California," Lister said. "The treatment should be able to effectively control the symptoms."

Zhang Zhongjing, who was behind him, also said, "I have brought some Bupleurum, Artemisia annua and other medicinal herbs. You can take me to see the patient first, examine his pulse and diagnose his symptoms, and then I can take him to decoct and administer the medicine. This two-pronged approach will help regulate his vital energy, and he should see results in a few days."

Meanwhile, next to several other boxcars transporting prisoners,

The guards were forcing Cai Pei, Dai Heng, Meng Chuan, and forty other former gang members off the vehicle. The ropes binding their hands were untied, leaving only their shackles, as they staggered onto the muddy ground of the camp.

Cai Pei subconsciously rubbed his numb wrist, then squinted, silently surveying the land.

At this time, the camp was undergoing extensive construction.

The sturdy logs were shaved into neat squares, and groups of three or four people, chanting in unison, erected them into the dug foundation trenches.

To Cai Pei’s surprise, the faces of those who were working did not show the numbness and sorrow that were typical of manual laborers.

A man with a full beard was standing on the roof, hammering a tenon while talking and laughing loudly to the people below.

At the edge of the camp, more than a dozen acres of newly reclaimed land were roughly divided into squares, and the soil was turned into neat furrows.

Several simple wooden signs were stuck at the edge of the field, with crooked words written on them in charcoal: potatoes, corn, sweet potatoes.

Several men in short jackets were carrying wooden buckets and walking slowly along shallow ditches, carefully pouring the water from the buckets down.

"Come here, everyone, and line up!"

Several armed assassins stepped forward and shoved the bewildered former gang members into four rows of ten, standing crookedly in the open space in the center of the camp.

Having finished speaking with Leon and the two doctors, Yuan Guang strolled over, expressionless.

"From today onwards, you will work here. Mining, logging, building houses, do whatever you are told."

The rules were simple: those who worked would be fed and paid; those who slacked off, caused trouble, or ran away would be whipped and confined the first time, and executed by firing squad the second time.

His gaze lingered deliberately on Cai Pei, Dai Heng, and Meng Chuan, the three former leaders, for a moment longer before he grinned and said, "Our lord is kind-hearted and has spared your lives, giving you a chance to atone for your sins and start anew. I advise you not to seek your own death."