Beauty

After repeated, utterly sincere refusals from Marko and Randy, Dutch, with a theatrical sigh of resignation, had no choice but to concede and withdraw his wildly generous bonus plan of one dollar commission per rifle sold. He looked at Mr. Marko and Mr. Randy, who stood before him, still beaming with joy despite their rejection of his fortune, and shook his head with a good-natured smile.

"Alright, gentlemen, alright! If you truly, truly do not want this one-dollar commission, then I shall insist on this instead: I'll give each of you a ten-thousand-dollar bonus! And gentlemen, this ten thousand dollars, you must accept. Remember, gentlemen, the Van der Linde Gang always, always rewards merit! This is my solemn guarantee to you!"

"No, Mr. Van der Linde, I simply can't take this…" Mr. Randy, still vibrating with excitement from the sheer generosity of the thought, quickly, almost frantically, began to refuse. The two-thousand-dollar monthly share had already sent him into paroxysms of ecstasy; it was already the finest reward imaginable, far more than he'd ever dreamed. He wanted no additional bonuses, nor, in his profound sense of gratitude, could he take them! Mr. Van der Linde had been so utterly generous; to accept further rewards would surely be taking advantage of an honest, benevolent man, wouldn't it?

However, his refusal had barely begun to form when Dutch, with a swift, decisive gesture, cut him off. "No! Marko! Randy! This money, gentlemen, is what you unequivocally deserve! If you two, the shining beacons of our ingenuity, do not accept this money, then no one else will dare to accept any reward either! But this is wrong, gentlemen, this is profoundly wrong! For the flourishing development of our future research, for the endless stream of brilliant inventions, I hope you two can set a shining example for more people by accepting this reward! This way, countless brilliant minds will be inspired to engage in vital research, which, in turn, will allow our Van der Linde Gang to develop robustly, healthily!"

Dutch laughed heartily, a booming, infectious sound, then picked up the semi-automatic rifle with a flourish and strode purposefully out the door, leaving the two stunned inventors no rational reason to refuse his 'command.' And this glorious news, he knew, would certainly spread like wildfire throughout Hope Ranch. This, indeed, was the best, most effective way to attract burgeoning talent. Dutch, after all, had always understood the subtle, yet powerful principle of 'buying horse bones with a thousand gold pieces.' To even further enhance his already soaring reputation, he resolved to continue showering Marko and Mr. Randy with generous percentages of future profits! Only a continuous, torrential flow of money could attract wave after wave of brilliant, eager inventors to his cause. And with their groundbreaking inventions, even if Dutch had to dole out a percentage for each batch of goods, he still made a steady, undeniable profit.

And at the same time, he could subtly entangle the interests of countless people, weaving them together to form a super-large, almost impenetrable interest chain, a vast economic community, thereby achieving an almost indestructible, ironclad resistance to any future risks… Money, Dutch believed, had always been about having enough; saving it merely turned it into worthless paper. Using the money you couldn't possibly spend to build an economic community, thereby expanding the number of beneficiaries, was the true, most profound, root-and-branch usage of wealth.

Dutch walked out of the wooden house, the sleek, deadly rifle held casually in his hand. Hosea, hearing Dutch's excited shouts from a distance, looked up from his paperwork and strode over, a questioning frown on his face.

"Is it developed, Dutch?" Hosea asked, his gaze fixed on the rifle in Dutch's hand, which, to his discerning eye, somewhat resembled a powerful, modern bolt-action rifle, but with an unsettling difference. He knew Dutch had been pouring money into Mr. Marko's research during this time, but he himself had been relentlessly busy building bunkers, and hadn't had a chance to visit the research shed. Just now, hearing Dutch call out to Mr. Strauss, he had suddenly remembered this mysterious project and followed him out.

"Hahaha, oh, Hosea!" Dutch crowed, pulling Hosea into a spontaneous, almost bone-crushing embrace. "Marko and Randy are absolute, unquestionable geniuses! I told you, my friend, they would never disappoint me! Look at this gun in my hand, Hosea. Just look at it." With that, Dutch raised the gun, his movements fluid and practiced, and pulled the trigger, aiming at a sturdy tree trunk opposite.

"Bang bang bang bang bang…"

Bullet after bullet poured out of the muzzle with a rapid, continuous rhythm, crossing a hundred meters in a blur to strike the thick trunk of the large tree. The gunshots were continuous, a steady, terrifying stream, utterly unlike the stuttering, deliberate cadence typical of the bolt-action rifles of this era. And in the skilled hands of the sharpshooter Dutch, the bullets from this rifle remained steadily clustered within one firing area, a tight, devastating pattern.

"Oh… shit!" Hosea's approaching steps slowly, almost involuntarily, ground to a halt. His gaze was fixed, mesmerized, on the semi-automatic rifle in Dutch's hand, his face completely filled with a profound, almost childlike astonishment. Damn it, he thought, the fastest rifle of this era was the Winchester repeating rifle, but even the Winchester still required constant bolt action for rapid loading and unloading! Even with Arthur's incredible speed, it was only three shots per second, whereas the rifle in Dutch's hand… it didn't need to be loaded at all! It could continuously fire when held! And judging by the speed of Dutch's finger on the trigger, he could probably increase the firing speed even more if he pulled it faster!

"Shit! This is simply a genius invention!" Hosea watched Dutch firing shot after shot at the tree in utter disbelief, his face flushed with a surge of raw, unadulterated excitement. Damn it, he had originally thought Dutch's ambitious firearms plan was just an unattainable dream, a madman's fancy. But he had actually managed to create a firearm, and one that was completely, terrifyingly unique! Oh, shit! Their Van der Linde Gang will live forever!

"Hahaha, good gun! Hosea, come and see, partner!" Dutch emptied a magazine of bullets, then, with a flourish, ejected it, throwing the empty clip to the approaching Hosea, his face filled with an excited, triumphant smile. "This is the semi-automatic rifle made by Marko and Randy! Damn it, I knew they were good! I just knew it!"

"Oh, Dutch, I… I didn't expect them to actually make it!" Hosea stammered, his hands trembling slightly as he grasped the empty magazine, then the sleek firearm itself, which was so profoundly different from a clunky bolt-action rifle. "Oh, shit, this is simply unimaginable! Well, I think our arms business can finally begin!"

They had played with guns all their lives; who wouldn't instantly comprehend the sheer destructive power and overwhelming dominance this new, continuous-fire rifle could unleash? It could be said that as long as a heavy water-cooled Maxim gun was not deployed, this gun completely, utterly, overwhelmed all other individual firearms! It could rightfully be called the undisputed king of individual weapons!

(The Garand rifle, after all, is widely considered the best rifle of World War II, a testament to the power of semi-automatic fire. The Garand is a true beauty.)

As for the water-cooled Maxim gun, well, that thing couldn't be transported by a single person; it was magnificent for static defense, but obviously impossible to wield for an assault.

"Of course, Hosea, of course!" Dutch purred, his gaze beginning to harden, a cold, calculating glint entering his eyes. "I think it's high time for us to start expanding! Marko! Randy! Gentlemen, how long will it take you to begin mass production of this rifle?"

The Murfree Brood in New Hanover, he mused, were a persistent, irritating itch he had long wanted to scratch, to encircle and suppress. Once this magnificent rifle could be mass-produced, the Van der Linde Gang would move en masse, a terrifying, unstoppable force, to clear out the entire New Hanover, occupy its various mining resources, and establish their very own, formidable arms factory! And Marko and Randy, true to their genius and their boundless loyalty, did not disappoint Dutch. Listening to Dutch's urgent inquiry, Mr. Marko practically thumped his chest with pride, guaranteeing:

"It will take two weeks at most, Dutch! These two weeks are solely for ordering and transporting the related specialized machinery; in reality, the molds themselves can be made in just two days! However, we also need to order various raw materials from outside; with our current industrial level, we can only cast the basic structure of the firearm, not forge the specialized steel needed for barrels and internal mechanisms."

"That's enough! More than enough!" Dutch nodded in profound satisfaction, a dangerous smile on his lips. "Very good, Marko, Randy. Begin working at full capacity! I think it's time for us to start heading to Guarma!" He then turned to Hosea, his expression grim. "Alright, Hosea, for the next period, I want you to buy more Maxim guns on the black market. These damn Murfree Brood, it's time for them to face their inevitable doom! Damn it! For the safety of our factory workers, for the safety of the entire New Hanover, we must kill all these damn bastards! Their very existence hinders the development of civilization itself, and they are utterly unforgivable!"