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

Chapter 78 Elections and the Northward Journey

Chinatown.

"My lord, that's all Howard had to say."

A fat, big-eared businessman stood in the courtyard, respectfully repeating everything he had heard at the Nob Hill mansion.

"Want to start the election early? That's interesting."

Zeng Tai lay in the rocking chair, listening to him talk while eating tangerines.

"Slytherin, you continue to infiltrate Howard's inner circle. Send over any important intelligence you may have."

The merchant named Slytherin replied respectfully, "Yes, my lord."

Slytherin left, and Zeng Tai looked at Jian Yuan, Guilliman, and the others beside him.

"What are your thoughts?"

Jian Yuan replied without hesitation, "My lord, this is simple. I'll take a few dozen men tonight and wipe them all out. The so-called early election will then come to nothing."

Guilliman, who was standing to the side, twitched at the corner of his mouth and said, "My lord, I have a different opinion."

"That businessman named Howard may be a bit reckless, but his idea is correct."

"As the presumptive choice to go to Governor Bigler, given Bigler's death and the boiling public discontent in San Francisco, Humphrey certainly couldn't continue as acting mayor."

"Even if you kill Howard today, a Charles might pop up out of nowhere tomorrow and want to start another election."

He pondered for a moment, gathered his thoughts, and continued, "So my suggestion is to let them do it. That way, they can vent their anger and resentment."

"We just need to make sure two things: first, that the candidates are basically all our people, so it doesn't matter who they vote for; and second, that enough white male citizens vote for our people."

Zeng Tai understood.

Isn't this just like the US presidential election in later generations?

Voters may feel like they have power when they vote, but in reality, the options have already been predetermined.

It doesn't matter whether you vote for Zhang San or Li Si, they're all their people.

He nodded and said, "Humphrey's mission as acting mayor has indeed come to an end."

"

"I will concentrate the white supremacists I summon next in San Francisco and have them find Humphrey and Hosea to forge American citizenship identities. When the election comes, these people will be our voter base."

He paused, then looked at Guilliman: "As for the candidates, Guilliman, what are your thoughts? Or do you want to take the mayoral office yourself?"

Guilliman quickly waved his hand and laughed, "My lord, didn't you say you wanted me to be the governor of California? Let's forget about the mayor of San Francisco. It's just a mayor; it's not worth my personal involvement."

Zeng Tai raised an eyebrow: "Quite ambitious."

Guilliman chuckled and did not deny it.

"As for the candidates, it doesn't really matter. Just pick some people from your subordinates and let them run for office."

"

He said seriously, "White faces, eloquent, and willing to listen to us are enough. We'll campaign for them in the newspapers and flood their voter bases with votes; we can't lose."

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The next day, the streets of San Francisco were suddenly filled with flyers.

"Elect early! Give power back to the people!"

"Humphrey resigns! San Francisco needs a real mayor!"

"End the lockdown! Restore order! Save San Francisco!"

The flyers, printed with eye-catching slogans, were handed out by Howard's employees to everyone passing by in the neighborhoods and to residents knocking on doors.

Newspapers also featured full-page articles calling on citizens to support early elections.

The San Francisco Gazette published three editorials in succession, condemning the Humphrey administration's "tyranny" and demanding an immediate mayoral election.

Meanwhile, Howard also organized a large-scale rally in the port area.

Hundreds of residents from the port area gathered in Portsmouth Square, waving signs and chanting slogans.

Howard stood on a makeshift stage and delivered a passionate speech to the crowd.

"Gentlemen, San Francisco is being ruled by a group of people who disregard freedom!"

Humphrey, our acting mayor, has never represented us, the American citizens.

He used the pretext of controlling the plague to lock down neighborhoods, demolish houses, and even have those Chinese patrolling our streets with guns. Is this still our city?

"No!" the crowd roared.

"What are we going to do?"

"Election! Election! Election!"

Howard nodded in satisfaction.

"Then let's go to City Hall together and let Mr. Humphrey hear our voices!"

Several hundred people marched towards the city hall, with more joining them along the way. By the time they reached the city hall entrance, nearly a thousand people had gathered.

Humphrey stood at the second-floor window, looking down at the dense crowd below, a slight smile playing on his lips.

The secretary said somewhat nervously, "Mr. Mayor, should we call the police—"

"Need not."

Humphrey straightened his tie, opened the window, and waved to the crowd below.

"Citizens, please be quiet!"

The crowd gradually quieted down.

Humphrey cleared his throat and said in his usual, slightly bureaucratic voice, "I heard you want to see me."

'

Howard stepped forward and looked up at Humphrey through the window.

"Mr. Humphrey, we demand an early mayoral election! You've been a terrible acting mayor; San Francisco needs a mayor truly elected by the people!"

The crowd erupted in cheers of approval.

Humphrey was silent for a few seconds, as if he was thinking.

Then he laughed.

"OK."

The crowd was stunned.

Howard was also stunned.

"What—what did you say?"

Humphrey shrugged, his demeanor as casual as if he were casually commenting on the weather: "I said yes. Early election, no problem. I've been wanting to step down from this responsibility for a while now. Since you're all so enthusiastic, let's hold the election."

Howard opened his mouth, somewhat stunned.

He had prepared so many arguments, so many reasons, so many ways to exert pressure, but Humphrey agreed without hesitation.

Humphrey smiled slightly at his expression.

"I will instruct the city hall to formulate an election plan and set an election date as soon as possible. Rest assured, since it is the voice of the people, I will certainly obey it."

He turned and disappeared through the window.

Once he realized what was happening, Howard, disregarding what Humphrey thought, suppressed his joy and shouted loudly.

"Citizens, this is our victory! Next, we will ensure a fair and transparent election to elect a mayor who truly represents San Francisco!"

A cheer erupted from the crowd.

The election announcement was released quickly.

Election Day is scheduled for two weeks from now.

In the days that followed, San Francisco entered a bizarre election frenzy.

Howard and his businessmen spent huge sums of money printing leaflets, organizing rallies, and publishing GG in newspapers. Their propaganda could be seen on every street, in every bar, and in every church in San Francisco, campaigning for Howard's election as mayor and garnering votes.

In addition, they have put forward many candidates to compete for positions such as members of parliament, judges, and prosecutors.

Hosea and Humphrey were not idle either.

Using the list provided by Zeng Tai, they forged American citizenship for each of the newly recruited white assassins.

Name, birthplace, occupation, length of residence—everything was perfectly documented. After obtaining identification, these individuals were distributed across various districts in San Francisco, becoming the most reliable voter base.

As for the plague, it's no longer important.

Because of the election, the police lifted the blockade, and the members of Xinghan Church returned to Chinatown.

Zeng Tai figured that since most of the dead were white people, there was no rush to deal with San Francisco's sanitation situation. He figured it wouldn't be too late to tackle it after the new mayor took office and the plague worsened.

Howard, on the other hand, took the police's removal of the blockade as his own achievement and began to publicize it extensively.

As for those who contracted the plague, what business is it of theirs?

Both sides tacitly went about their own business, waiting for election day to arrive.

Meanwhile, in Sacramento.

Governor's Office.

Mike Doug sat behind his desk, a report in his hand, his brow furrowed. A cup of coffee on the table had long since gone cold; he hadn't touched it.

The door was pushed open, and the staff member Gan walked in.

"Governor, the person has been brought."

Doug looked up and rubbed his temples. "Let him in."

A soldier, still shaken, walked in.

Although he rested in the hotel for a while and changed into clean clothes, his eyes were still somewhat vacant, as if he had just crawled out of hell.

Doug looked at the soldier and asked in a deep voice, "Soldier, are you from the First Dragoon Regiment? Can you guarantee that what you're saying is true?"

He simply couldn't believe that 1,800 soldiers, two elite dragoon regiments, had been defeated in the war against the Indians.

This is the United States' well-trained and well-equipped regular army!

"I swear to God!"

The soldier nodded, his lips trembling, and recounted in broken sentences what had happened at the edge of the central valley.

Thousands of Native American warriors, three large-caliber cannons, and ten weapons capable of continuous fire. Precise shooting, a dense hail of bullets, and terrifying artillery fire—

Doug and Gan looked at each other, feeling as if they were listening to a myth.

They then summoned a soldier from the Second Dragoon Regiment to hear his account of what he had seen and heard.

"Holy crap, this is actually true?"

Doug closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

A few days ago, when someone reported that the edge of the Central Valley was full of American corpses, he didn't believe it, thinking that some people were playing a cruel April Fool's joke.

But when the fleeing soldiers gradually appeared in Sacramento, recounting everything they had encountered, and with both sides corroborating each other's accounts, he had no choice but to believe them.

Gan asked cautiously, "Governor, how should this matter be handled?"

"What should we do?"

Doug sighed and said, "Two regiments of troops were defeated by the Indians. This is a historic defeat that has never happened since the founding of the United States. California cannot handle it."

"Compile the intelligence into a booklet, make two copies. Send one copy to Brigadier General Wool in Oregon, and send the other copy to Washington to request assistance."

Gan was silent for a moment, then asked, "Should we put this matter on the agenda for the state legislature?"

Doug thought for a moment, then revealed a slightly sinister smile: "Of course, how can we be the only ones worrying about this life-or-death issue for California?!"

Deep in the San Bernardino Mountains of Southern California.

More than a thousand Native American warriors set up camp here, their tents sprouting up from the valley like mushrooms, densely packed together.

In the largest tent, Chongyue sat in a fur coat, handling various miscellaneous tasks.

Troop deployment, logistical arrangements, and the transportation of women and children all had to go through him before being relayed down.

"Chief, we really need to find another place."

Baiyun lifted the tent flap and came in, complaining, "We've hunted all the prey we could find nearby—deer, bison, rabbits—and the rest have all run far away."

The mountain roads are difficult to traverse, and supplies from outside are arriving slowly. If we don't move soon, we'll start going hungry.

Without looking up, Chongyue said, "This is simple. Just divide the team into several groups, each with one or two hundred people, and have them set up new outposts in other mountains."

Bai Yun asked in astonishment, "Splitting the troops? What if we don't have enough troops to attack the major cities frequented by white people?"

Chongyue looked up, puzzled, and asked, "Who said we were going to attack major white-majority cities?"

Bai Yun said matter-of-factly, "Two regiments of the US Army have been wiped out by us. Next, we'll definitely press on and take San Francisco and Sacramento in one fell swoop!"

"Give me a break!"

Chongyue rolled his eyes: "Not to mention that Sachem is in San Francisco, such reckless behavior could easily disturb Sachem."

With only about a thousand men under our command, we're fine for taking down small cities and settlements, but we're too weak to take on large cities with tens of thousands of people.

Baiyun scratched his head: "So, are we just going to stay holed up in the mountains from now on?"

"Stay indoors?" Chongyue shook his head. "Who said we were going to stay indoors?"

He began to mentally connect with Zeng Tai.

"Sachem, there's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Zeng Tai's voice quickly followed: "Speak."

"We're a bit overstaffed right now, with over a thousand people crammed into the San Bernardino mountains, and supplies are running out." Chongyue paused, "I'm thinking of sending some of them north to Oregon and other places."

"Heading north?" Zeng Tai became interested. "Tell me your thoughts."

Chongyue sorted out his thoughts and said, "Sachem, after those two regiments of the US Army were wiped out by us, the entire West will not pose much of a threat to us for a short period of time."

It would be a waste to keep so many soldiers in California, so I think we should split up the force. One part should remain in California to continue attacking white cities and settlements, using war to sustain war and keep them from having peace.

The other part will head north to open up second, third, and even fourth battlefields. Oregon, Idaho, Washington—I intend to set the entire West Coast ablaze, with people dying everywhere.

Zeng Tai said, "You intend to slowly deplete the white manpower like this?"

Chongyue nodded and said, "Yes, even if the white people's reinforcements come from the east in the future, they will be too busy to help them."

"If a thousand people are gathered together, they can focus their attacks. But if a thousand people are scattered across thousands of miles of land, how can they fight? Which group should they chase after?"

Zeng Tai asked, "How many people do you plan to send?"

"Three or four hundred, I guess. Send a small group to scout ahead and find the route."

Chongyue said, "In addition, I need Leon's men to provide intelligence on the situation of settlements in Oregon and other places."

"Okay," Zeng Tai said. "Just go ahead and do it. I'll provide all the support."

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