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

Night in Wolf Town.

In a single day, six people died, which was like throwing a match into a powder keg for a small town with only a few hundred inhabitants.

The news spread like wildfire. Every household tightened their doors and windows, reinforced weak points with wooden boards, and set up simple tripwire traps behind doors as alarms. The men silently checked their firearms, loaded them, and placed their rifles and revolvers in the most convenient spot by their bedsides, just in case.

The source of all this chaos was now leisurely sitting in a chair on the second floor of the cabin, listening to Lucy's report.

"The stable has five American standard stallions, seven Morgan horses, and ten local California crossbreds. At current market prices, they're worth about $2,500 in total."

"In a separate compartment in the backyard, there's a thoroughbred mare that Charles acquired at a high price, worth $1,100. Your Andalusian grey horse is also there; he wants to breed the two horses to produce a fine crossbreed."

"Inside the house, there were three fifty-ounce gold bars hidden in a secret compartment in the study, and some gold and silver coins in the safe, which amounted to about three thousand five hundred US dollars."

"A total of about seven thousand one hundred dollars, Master."

Seven thousand US dollars, converted to modern terms, would be worth about one million US dollars.

Whether in California in 1855 or in modern times in 2025, this is a fortune that would make anyone envious.

His fingers, which had once gently tapped the armrest of the oak chair, began to ponder the purpose of the money.

He quickly figured out how to use it.

Buy weapons!

As the saying goes, if you have money but no gun, you're the bank.

In the West, where laws are as fragile as paper, military force decides everything.

The horses can't be converted into cash right now, but $3,500 is enough to buy twenty rifles and twenty revolvers.

Although it was only the cheapest Springfield muzzle-loading rifle, its firepower was sufficient in an era when breech-loading rifles were not yet widespread.

Once Leon and Azrael were hired as guards at the gold mine and figured out the routes and numbers of people transporting the gold, the number of assassins under his command would be about enough.

At that time, his path to revenge will take its first substantial step.

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.

The next day, noon.

The cemetery in Wolf Town sits on a low hillside overlooking the entire town. Four simple pine coffins are neatly arranged in newly dug pits.

"For you are dust, and to dust you shall return. Amen."

The pastor closed the Bible and ended his prayer. The soil fell, the grave was filled, and the cross was erected.

Through Lucy's eyes, he observed the people who came to attend the funeral.

Through Lucy's introduction, he quickly identified three people.

Connor, the grocer, is a lean, middle-aged man. David, the gun shop owner, is burly and has two revolvers at his waist. Wells, the tavern and inn owner, has red hair and a full beard.

These three were the local swordsmen and gunners of Wild Wolf Town.

As the funeral ended and the mourners were about to leave, someone said, "Gentlemen, please don't rush off."

The speaker was Connor. He said, "Mr. Charles and his staff were murdered by robbers during the day, and Sheriff Robert and his deputy, who went to pursue them, were also shot and killed. Six lives lost in just one day."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across everyone's faces: "The town's security has deteriorated to a dangerous level. We can't just sit here and wait to die."

David, the gun shop owner, frowned. "Old Connor, what do you mean?"

Connor looked around, his gaze finally settling on David and Wells: "Since all the gentlemen of the Security Committee are here now, I propose that we elect a new sheriff and his deputy as soon as possible and form a decent patrol team to protect everyone's lives and property."

"I thought it was something serious," said Wells, the tavern owner, nonchalantly. "I have a dozen or so cowboys drinking at my tavern every day. I can just hire two or three of them. Food and lodging included, twenty dollars a week. Plenty of people would be eager to do it."

"Holy shit, Wells, are you serious?" David scoffed. "Your Irish buddies are good at drinking and causing trouble, but you want them in charge of security? The moment the robbers open fire, they'll run faster than startled rabbits!"

"Whose tavern got smashed two months ago? Oh right, it was your Gold Mine Tavern! Where were your Irish cowboys then?"

"If we don't recruit from cowboys, where else can we recruit them? Their marksmanship is at least up to standard."

Wells blushed, spat, and retorted, "You're hiring your nephew Billy? Or Connor's son-in-law Jack? I've seen those two idiots' marksmanship before."

"Last month, when hunting wild boar, Billy missed four out of five shots, and the last one almost hit Jack's butt! And Jack? At a target thirty yards away, he fired five shots and missed every single one! Putting this kind of scum as sheriff, are we just letting them laugh at the enemy when bandits come?"

The argument escalated, threatening to break out. Suddenly, Lucy Smith, dressed in a long black dress with a white flower pinned to her chest, spoke up.

"Gentlemen, how about this?"

Everyone looked at her. At this moment, Lucy looked haggard, with slightly red eyes, making her look pitiful.

"Let the surviving Mr. Henry take the position of sheriff. After all, he served as Mr. Robert's deputy for half a year, knows the rules, and has plenty of experience."

As for the four vacant deputy positions, we can first ask Mr. Connor's son-in-law and Mr. David's nephew to fill them, and then recruit two reliable cowboys from the tavern.

This way, at least basic order can be maintained in the town, which is better than having only one person in charge.

David and Wells exchanged a glance, neither of them immediately objecting.

Connor pondered for a moment, then slowly nodded: "That's a compromise. Henry has indeed done a good job these past six months; everyone trusts him."

"I have no objection," Wells shrugged.

David nodded reluctantly, "Then let's leave it at that."

Standing on the second floor of the cabin, Lucy watched all this from her perspective and whistled.

There was a reason behind Lucy saying those words.

In the past two days, he summoned eight more assassins, three of whom became employees of the stable under the guise of looking for work, responsible for protecting his safety.

As for the rest of the people, he sent them all out.

After obtaining the horses and weapons left behind by Leon, he sent several men on horseback to San Francisco. After all, firearms were too expensive in small towns, and buying too many at once would easily attract attention; it was better to go directly to San Francisco to buy them.

Once they return with their guns, they can begin one of humanity's oldest professions—

Robbers!

This can serve as practice for future gold mine robberies and also allow you to make a few more money.

Therefore, the weaker the town's security, the easier it is for the assassins to carry out their duties.

And the target had already been chosen: the gun shop in the small town!