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

Chapter 53 The Cross Hanging Upside Down (5,000 words, seeking first subscription)

Chongyue and his companion gently placed the two corpses on the ground and made a simple gesture towards the deeper shadows of the cemetery behind them.

Silently, dozens of figures, each with a wooden stick in their mouth and their faces painted in the same bright colors, emerged from the darkness.

They split into two teams. One team quickly surrounded the main church building, while the other team, led by Chongyue, rushed towards the row of low adobe houses behind the cemetery.

Chongyue arrived at the first mud-brick house, where there was a tightly closed door with a rough brass padlock hanging on it.

His companion stepped forward, took out a wire, inserted it into the keyhole, fiddled with it for a few moments, and with a click, the spring bounced and the lock fell to the ground.

Chongyue opened the wooden door and held the kerosene lamp he had taken from the guard inside.

The dim, yellow light instantly illuminated the scene inside the room.

The children huddled together on the cold, muddy ground. They shielded their eyes with their hands, clearly having not seen sunlight for some time; their eyes squinted sharply at the bright light, their expressions filled with terror.

He stepped inside and repeated simple words in several common Native American tribal languages ​​spoken in California, his voice gentle: "Don't be afraid."

"We've come to rescue you."

"Keep quiet and come out with me."

"There is food and water outside."

The children stared at him blankly, most of them still not having reacted, only a few of the older ones had a glimmer in their eyes.

The soldiers outside quickly followed, carefully helping or carrying the weak children one by one away from the suffocating cage.

On an open space a little further away from the adobe houses, other soldiers had taken out the hard bread and leather water bags they carried with them and carefully fed the children the broken pieces of bread and water.

Chongyue didn't stop and continued to go to other rooms.

They pried open the locks, comforted the children, and took them away to feed them. The group repeated this process several times, and the scenes in each room were equally shocking.

"Three rooms, crammed with so many people like livestock, and they don't even provide water or food!"

The companions who were with them watched the children wolfing down their dry bread and water, saw their withered hands and feet and pale faces, and saw the wounds on their bodies. They were so angry that they could hardly contain themselves.

"There are so many empty houses nearby, and there's no shortage of water and food. Those beasts did it on purpose!"

Chongyue's gaze swept over them, and he said, "It's alright, those beasts will soon get their retribution, a retribution we will personally inflict."

"Let's take the children away first, otherwise once the guns are fired and the fire is set off, the white people will surround us from all directions, and then it will be difficult to retreat."

His companion nodded and gestured to the people behind him to take the child to the horses.

Just then, a girl stopped as she passed Chongyue. She looked up at him and shook his hand: "Uncle, I don't know you, but my sister hasn't come back yet. I want to stay here and wait for her, and go home with her."

Chongyue slowly squatted down, bringing his gaze to the level of the little girl, and asked softly in the language of the little girl's tribe, "Your sister? Where did she go? I'll go and bring her back for you."

The little girl pointed to the church ahead and nodded vigorously: "My sister was taken away by the people inside. Uncle, we promised to go home together."

Chongyue nodded: "I'll help you bring her back. You should go with the other uncles first, okay?"

The little girl hummed in agreement and released his hand. A soldier waiting nearby gently picked her up and joined the evacuating team.

Chongyue watched the group depart until the last person disappeared into the night before he slowly turned around and strode towards the church.

The area around the church has been silently sealed off by Native American warriors.

At the entrance, side windows, and backyard, key access points were all hidden in the shadows, with Native American warriors watching their every move.

As Chongyue approached, a soldier quickly stepped closer and whispered, "Chief, something's wrong. The oil lamps are still lit inside, but there's not a sound."

Chongyue listened intently, and just as his companion had said, there was no sound of human voices inside except for the crackling of the oil lamp burning.

"There are patrols outside, but no one is inside?"

He frowned and said softly, "Wait five more minutes. Wait until the children have retreated to a safer distance. When the time is up, no matter what's inside, kill them!"

Five minutes later.

Without the slightest hesitation, the group of dozens rushed into the church, their revolvers pointed at every corner where enemies might be hiding.

However, all that met the eye was emptiness.

Beneath the towering dome, benches are neatly arranged, the altar is solemn, and dozens of oil lamps burn quietly, casting flickering light and shadows onto the holy images on the walls.

The soldiers quickly split up and searched the interior of the church, the second floor, and the tower.

The confessional, the storage room, the monks' quarters—all the rooms were searched, but no one was seen.

"What the hell? Where are they?" someone asked, scratching their head. "They couldn't all have gone to meet their master, could they?"

"Chief! This way!"

A startled cry suddenly came from the main hall on the first floor.

The crowd quickly gathered around.

A soldier pointed to the side and rear of the altar, where there was a thick wooden plank similar in color to the floor. It was easily overlooked if one did not look closely.

He pried the edge with force, and the wooden plank rose up, revealing a dark hole below. A spiral staircase leading underground appeared before them.

"They're not all down there, are they?"

"Going underground all at night? Is this a priest or a devil?"

"What's the difference?"

Chongyue raised his hand, interrupting the conversation.

"A few of you come down with me and let's see what's down there."

"The rest of you continue the search to see if there are any other hidden passages, and keep a watchful eye out."

Having said that, he didn't hesitate any longer and stepped into the tunnel first. Several soldiers followed closely behind, their figures quickly swallowed up by the darkness below.

The stairs spiraled downwards, and after about a minute, they had descended several meters underground. Faint sounds could be heard ahead.

Chongyue gestured for everyone to tread lightly, hold their breath, and tiptoe to the end of the passage.

There was a half-open wooden door, through which dim light seeped, and the sounds of conversation and chewing could be heard.

Boom!

After confirming that someone was inside, Chongyue kicked the heavy wooden door hard, causing it to spring open and crash heavily into the wall!

The white people in the basement, disheveled in their underwear, were startled by the sudden loud noise, and their fervor and satisfaction turned into astonishment.

The instant they turned their heads, Chongyue and five Indian warriors had already rushed into the basement like lightning.

The dark muzzles of six revolvers were also aimed at the foreheads of six white men!

Chongyue pointed his revolver at a man who looked to be about fifty years old, wearing a black robe and a silver cross hanging on his chest, while his gaze swept around the small basement.

He didn't ask about the girl's whereabouts; the strong smell of blood had already given him the answer.

A surge of anger rushed to his head.

That is behavior that no empathetic human being could tolerate.

"Chongyue, don't let them die so easily."

Zeng Tai, who witnessed this scene through Chong Yue's eyes, said, word by word, "Cut off their hands and feet. I want them to die in agony, screaming in agony!"

"Yes, Sachem!"

Without a word, the enraged Indian warriors swarmed forward, using rifle butts or their fists to smash the white men in the back of the head or the sides of their necks, knocking them unconscious. Then, like dragging dead dogs, they roughly pulled them uphill.

Father Juan awoke in agony.

He instinctively reached out to touch the source of the pain, but only felt a strange, hollow sensation in his shoulder blade, accompanied by a burning, intense pain.

Not only in his arms, but also in the groin area of ​​his legs, came a terrifying, agonizing pain, as if he had lost the connection between his limbs.

"My hands? My feet?!"

He struggled to open his blurry eyes and looked at his shoulders and thighs in horror.

It was completely empty; there wasn't a single limb to be seen.

He roared in despair, "Where are my hands? Where are my feet? You damned, hell-deserving savages!"

What did you do to me?! What did you do?!

"Call me 'Mom,' you bastard!"

Not far away, an Indian warrior who had already learned of the horrific scene in the basement from his comrades was annoyed. He strode over, grabbed the butt of his rifle, and smashed it down hard on the man's face!

"puff!"

With a muffled thud, Father Juan's roar abruptly ceased, turning into a sob. Several bloody teeth fell to the ground, and half of his cheek swelled and bruised visibly.

The soldier's face was filled with undisguised hatred and contempt, as if he were looking at a bunch of filthy maggots. He said coldly, "Bastard, cherish this last moment of your useless life before our ceremony is complete."

Father Juan groaned and looked around.

He then realized that he was bound to an upside-down frame in an extremely humiliating and painful position with rough hemp rope.

Not far in front of him, the monks and guards in the church were undergoing the same punishment as him, bound to five other inverted crosses.

Six mutilated bodies, spaced at specific intervals, were placed in the center of the church's main hall, ultimately forming two inverted triangular patterns.

"Demons, you demons! The Lord will punish you, He will cast you into the flames of hell forever!"

Hearing this, Chongyue scoffed: "If your existence is real, and if there truly is such a thing as a Doomsday Judgment, the first people He would punish are you bunch of perverted bastards who do things beneath His sanctuary that even the devil would be ashamed of!"

"I knew Catholic priests were a bit perverted because of the requirement to remain celibate, but I never imagined they could be this perverted."

Father Juan trembled violently and retorted in a hoarse voice, "How can you heretics and barbarians understand the miracles of Christ?!"

"The sacrifice of the lamb is sacred; it is a necessary step in the forgiveness of the sins of mankind."

Father Juan struggled to recite the Mass in broken Latin.

"Hic est enim Cali Sanguinis mei, novi et aeterni testamenti; mysterium

fidei: qui pro vobis et pro multis effundetur in reminissionen peccatorum.

""

(This cup is my blood, the blood of a new and everlasting covenant; the mystery of faith; it will be poured out for you and all people to forgive sins.)

The Native American warriors inside the church simply watched coldly, as if they were looking at a clown.

They ignored Father Juan's shouts and chants, and simply followed Chongyue's instructions to spread more dried firewood, straw, and tattered scrolls from the church storeroom and outside evenly on the floor of the main hall, especially around the six upside-down shelves.

Chongyue, carrying a kerosene lamp, walked up to Father Juan and said softly, "In the Bible, which you hold so dear, your Lord, before deciding to destroy Sodom, told Noah Abraham, 'Even if there are ten righteous men in that city, I will not destroy it.'"

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the other five people who were groaning weakly, before finally settling back on Father Juan's face.

"Then tell me, in this church, among all of you, can you find a righteous person?"

What essential difference is there between you and those sinners in Sodom who were destroyed by sulfur and fire?

Upon understanding these words, Father Juan's eyes turned bloodshot, and he roared, "Heretics! You blasphemous heretics! How dare you claim to possess the authority of the Lord and bestow judgment upon us?!"

Chongyue ignored him and simply placed the kerosene lamp under the inverted cross, right next to the dry tinder.

Then he turned around and, together with all the soldiers, strode out of the main hall of the church.

Standing at the church entrance, Chongyue raised his revolver, aiming the muzzle at the small oil lamp on the floor of the main hall, dozens of steps away.

"Go to hell, you scum!"

boom!

The bullet shattered the glass lampshade with pinpoint accuracy, spilling lamp oil that was instantly ignited by the still-burning wick!

boom-!

Orange flames suddenly shot up, quickly igniting the surrounding dry grass and firewood. The fire spread and expanded at an alarming speed, and the scorching heat even rushed out of the door, illuminating the faces of the soldiers outside.

Almost instantly, the entire main hall of the church was turned into a raging sea of ​​fire!

A soldier looked at Chongyue: "Chief, the children have been sent away, and these beasts have been burned. Should we retreat now? The fire is so big, it will soon attract the Whites."

Chongyue picked up his spear, loaded a bullet, and asked, "Retreat?"

"Do you think killing those six bastards in the church is enough? Enough to quell the fire in your heart?"

He paused, then said, "Use this burning church as bait to set up an ambush nearby. When the sun rises tomorrow, I will make every household in Los Angeles mourn and weep!"

The next day, the news from Los Angeles shocked the entire state of California. And as time went on, the news quickly spread to other states and regions across the United States.

"The atrocities of the devil! The sanctuary was burned, and the servants of God were martyred!"

"Inverted cross! A blasphemous ritual performed by Native American Satanists!"

"Los Angeles transformed into a battlefield: barbarians in full-scale rebellion, the outpost of civilization in imminent danger!"

Beneath the sensational headlines were vivid descriptions: the sacred church was burned to the ground; priests and monks were tied to inverted crosses and burned alive in a manner of "devil worship"; and inverted triangle symbols representing evil were left at the scene.

White civilians and militiamen who went to help fight the fire were ambushed and suffered heavy casualties.

These details, especially the extreme and distorted blasphemy against Christian symbols, are enough to make white Christians' minds explode.

"Blasphemy! This is the ultimate blasphemy! Only a demon from the deepest depths of hell would commit such an act of trampling on the holy name of our Lord and defiling the sanctuary!"

"They've rebelled! They've rebelled! The Native Americans have rebelled!"

"Seize them! Seize these Indians! Don't let them escape! Hang them on the cross! Use their blood to cleanse the defiled land!"

Extreme voices quickly became the mainstream, and angry people began to spontaneously search for, drive away, and even violently attack any lone or small group of Native Americans within their line of sight.

Across the United States, the number of atrocities against Native Americans has surged dramatically.

Meanwhile, more Americans are questioning: "What is the Los Angeles city government doing?! Where are the sheriffs and militia?!"

"Is the Sacramento state government asleep at the wheel? Why are they allowing such a savage riot to happen?!"

"Taxpayers' money is just supporting this bunch of useless people?!"

Faced with overwhelming public opinion and relentless media scrutiny, the California state government in Sacramento is currently in a difficult and frustrating situation.

Due to attacks from the American Party, Congress was paralyzed, government orders were blocked, impeachment proceedings were initiated, and a barrage of media attacks ensued.

The horrific tragedy in Los Angeles has given the American Party new ammunition to launch a fierce attack on the incompetence of state governments under Democratic rule.

If Los Angeles weren't located in Southern California, where the Democratic Party has traditionally wielded considerable influence and where party organization is less robust than in Northern California, executive orders issued by the Democratic Party might not have been able to be enforced.

Even so, the state government's response appeared slow and ineffective.

A day after the tragedy, an emergency order was issued, requiring San Diego County, San Bernardino County, Santa Barbara County, Tulary County, and other counties in Southern California to immediately mobilize and assemble their militias and rush to Los Angeles County to eliminate the Native American mob.

Meanwhile, strongly worded and threatening official letters were sent from the state government office to all Native American settlements in California.

The official letter was simple and tyrannical: each tribe must hand over the perpetrators of the Los Angeles massacre and their accomplices within a specified timeframe. They must also unconditionally cooperate with the white authorities' investigation and manhunt, and provide all intelligence regarding the rioters.

Otherwise, a cleansing of all Native Americans in California would ensue.

"Governor, I still recommend seeking assistance from the federal government."

Inside the governor's office, Bigler's aide, Gan, said, "The Indian mobs capable of attacking courthouses in multiple counties simultaneously are definitely organized, and the current militia force alone will find it difficult to suppress them."

"Let's wait and see what those Native American bastards say in response."

Bigler waved his hand and said, "Unless all the Native American bastards in California are involved, I'm confident I can get those bastards to kill each other."

'