Munitions Empire

In the village square, there was a group of women who had been stripped of their clothes. A band of soldiers who had just pulled up their trousers began leering and shouting at the other villagers kneeling on the ground, "Dammit! If you can’t produce the grain, don’t you have any money either?"

A brawny leader with a musket slung at his waist and carrying a long knife walked among the kneeling crowd and grabbed an old man.

He viciously threw the old man to the ground, which only made the children in the village cry louder. Everyone was too afraid to lift their heads, let alone plead for mercy.

"If you don’t hand over your valuables, I’ll kill him!" the muscular man shouted, pointing the tip of his knife at the old man, addressing everyone present.

"Sir, sir! We really have nothing left! We’ve given you everything we have! Please spare me! Spare me!" the old man cried, lying on the ground and begging for mercy.

"If you really have nothing left, what’s the use of keeping you?" The brawny man sneered and thrust his long knife forward, piercing the old man’s chest.

Instantly, the old man lost all strength to struggle, his head drooped to the side, and without even a scream, he passed away.

"Hurry up and pay! Or you’ll end up like him!" The brawny man pulled out his knife, shook off the fresh blood, and continued to shout threats loudly, "If you don’t hand it over, I’ll start killing the children!"

"Could it be that they really have no money?" One of the bandits holding a musket whispered to his comrade-in-arms, "We’ve been pressuring them this much, and still hardly a penny to be seen."

"Probably so, but how would they know our power if we didn’t scare them a bit, huh? Hehe, that woman just now… didn’t you have a go too?" His companion, with a sabre at his side, bragged.

"Hehehe! She screamed so miserably at first, but didn’t she quiet down later? A couple of slaps and she didn’t dare even let out a fart," the bandit holding the musket said with a lewd laugh.

"Hahaha!" The companion laughed along; they had been lording over this place for half a year now, with the local authorities too scared to intervene. Who would dare to meddle?

In order to bleed the village dry, they had initially only robbed food and money, but in the past two months, there had been less and less of both. To extract more resources and to vent their bestial desires, these men had started to prey on the women.

On the ground lay two men who had tried to resist, their corpses with dried blood. The bandits, dozens in number, were significantly more than the able-bodied men in the village, and were also better armed with guns and knives, making them stronger fighters. Those who dared resist were usually killed, like the two lying on the ground.

"Ah!" A woman, devoid of clothing, rose frantically from the ground and charged at a bandit soldier closest to her.

The bandit soldier gaped and swung his long knife, blood sprayed from the woman’s body as she screamed and fell silently to the ground.

More bandits began laughing, as this was part of their daily routine, something everyone had come to accept. Living in such turbulent times, they felt they were living the good life.

Killing and arson, taking pleasure in revenge and bullying, every day was about tormenting the weak and taking advantage of others’ wives. What was there to complain about in this life?

"Hehehe! That’s the spirit." Seeing a woman hacked to death not far away, these men, no longer human, merely expressed their admiration.

"If you don’t give money, we’ll burn down your houses!" A man with a scar on his face went to the front, kicked an old man in the face, sending the man sprawling on the ground, spitting out blood-stained teeth.

"Yes! Burn it! Burn it all!" The surrounding bandits joined in the clamor, fearing the lack of chaos wouldn’t showcase their cruelty.

"We dare not! Oh, we dare not let you burn!" The kneeling villagers cried out in despair, hastily throwing out some hidden items, "This is all that’s left, only this much."

Indeed, what was thrown out was hardly worth mentioning, some hidden salted fish and sea goods, and even torn fishing nets, bits of thread, and scissors. The only item of any value was a silver ring.

In short, it was all junk.

Picking up the silver ring and blowing off the dust before tucking it into his chest, the brawny man spit on the other trinkets and continued to curse, "Pah! A bunch of misers! You won’t cry until you see the coffin! Dammit, it doesn’t feel right if I don’t kill a few of you!"

"There, they produced something else! Keep searching! Maybe there’s more," the man with the scar on his face wickedly suggested to the brawny man.

"Hmm! Makes sense!" The muscular man grinned and nodded, then turned his gaze back to the villagers, who had turned pale with terror, "There, you’ve hidden things, haven’t you? Not being honest, right? You must have stashed away other things! Hand them over! Or I’ll start killing you one by one to find them!"

The crying grew louder, but this time, no one in the kneeling crowd threw anything else out. In truth, they did not have anything left to surrender.

"You worthless things! Watch me kill a few more and you’ll all be compliant!" The brawny man rubbed his nose with his fingers, picking up the blood-stained knife, ready to swing at another to see if that would work.

They too had to settle accounts, after all. If they didn’t bring something back for the officials in the city, where would the court’s taxes come from? Were they expected to pay out of their own pockets? Impossible.

"Stop!" A stern shout at the entrance of the village halted the action of the brawny man. The bandit leader turned his head and saw a familiar face in the distance.

"Hey! I’ve been looking for you! Old Yang! You ran away and dared to come back?" Dropping the knife, the brawny man sneered at the old fisherman and jerked his chin up, "Where’s that little niece of yours? Gramps will bestow his grace upon her today, hahaha!"

He burst into proud laughter, and the surrounding bandits also laughed loudly with him. Amid the laughter, a sudden gunshot caught everyone off guard.

A bandit who was laughing looked down to see his chest gushing blood from a hole. He was bewildered and wanted to touch the crimson blood, but he found his arms were no longer taking orders.

The bandits around him hadn’t reacted yet when another gunshot followed. A comrade standing next to the shot bandit had his head burst open like a watermelon smashed on the ground.

"Ah! Ah!" A bandit drew his knife and yelled loudly to embolden himself. He hadn’t yet seen where the enemy was, so he couldn’t mount any response.

As a result, another bullet came flying, piercing through his neck, and blood immediately poured down his tattered uniform, cascading like a waterfall.

He dropped his weapon and tried to cover the hole in his neck with his hands, but the blood kept spurting out between his fingers, unstoppable no matter what he did,

Only at this moment did these bandits finally realize that there were many enemies, and they were equipped with a lot of firearms.

The first thing they thought of was the Official Army of Zheng Country had come to eradicate them! But then they thought again, even if those worthless troops really came back, they wouldn’t attack without any warning.

The officials in the city still depended on them for collecting taxes, how could they move against them? Even if they were to kill the donkey after it had done its job grinding the wheat, the Official Army didn’t have the combat strength for it.

"Who is it! A misunderstanding! It’s all a misunderstanding!" The brawny leader sought cover while hunching over, shouting loudly.

Up to now, he still hadn’t grasped the situation, not to mention organizing a counterattack. They were just like the Official Army—virtually no combat strength. Bullying the common folks was no problem for them, but to stand in formation and fight a pitched battle? That was a joke.

"Big brother! The gunfire is coming from the north! We run south!" A bandit with a scar on his face, carrying a flintlock pistol, reminded his boss from behind a well.

The brawny man listened and found it made sense. He immediately called out to his men: "Run south! To the mountain! Back to our stronghold!"

The disorderly bandits hurriedly ran south. This time they showed some improvement, for they finally saw who it was they were dealing with.

These people wore strangely colored clothing with lots of pockets, and they had pots on their heads, looking as foolish as opera singers.

The enemies didn’t seem numerous, just two, so the dozen or so bandits charged at them recklessly, hoping to kill these two obstacles and escape into the deep mountains.

But as they got closer to these fearless fools, the two "fools" let their oddly-shaped short guns spit out tongues of fire.

They had thought these weapons were like flintlock pistols, merely making a bang. But it was only when the battle began that they realized just how wildly wrong they were.

The Thompson Submachine Gun in such close quarters was like a lawnmower. The Marine who fired first tossed aside the empty magazine, reloaded, and by then there were no more targets standing before him.

His comrade who had just shot the last bullet began to reload in turn, the two coordinating flawlessly.

Upon hearing the relentless gunfire, the bandit leader and his accomplices still in the village immediately lost the nerve to break through.

The joke was, just by listening to the dense gunfire, they certainly didn’t have the guts to go out seeking death. It was unclear how many men the other side brought, or which deity they had managed to offend.

Marines were already rushing into the village, some beginning to help the women who were barely clothed, others trying to control the disordered villagers.

A bandit knelt on the ground, crying out for mercy. Soon a Marine ran up to the bandit.

"Spare me! Spare me!" The bandit knelt and kowtowed, each time he raised his head he shouted with a crying voice, "Please spare me! Spare my life!"

The Marine holding the rifle glanced at the women lying senseless and naked on the ground, then at the kneeling bandit bowing his head fervently.

His comrades were covering the violated women with raincoats and tents. He slung his rifle over his shoulder, drew his S3 pistol from his waist, flipped off the safety, and pulled the trigger aimed at the head of the kowtowing bandit.

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