Advance

The tavern buzzed with an energy carefully cultivated by Dutch. To unify the crowd's spirit, he understood the need for a common enemy. An imagined adversary could forge a stronger sense of belonging and identity among the people.

This strategy subtly fueled the American "rednecks'" animosity toward the upper class. As their hostility mounted, they would become even more fervent than Dutch, their actions driven by their own growing resentment.

However, the members of the Van der Linde Gang had more pressing concerns. Their focus was entirely on the impending advance on Guarma Island.

Across the dense forest, in the vast wasteland beyond the Shady Belle Factory, the air thrummed with activity. "Hya!" shouted teamsters as carriages laden with supplies rumbled onto the sparsely populated plains.

Rows of gunmen, a thousand strong, stood in neat formations, their figures partially obscured by the surrounding forests. Dressed in clean, uniform military-style attire, each man carried a Marko semi-automatic rifle. They were equipped with 300-round ammunition belts and various explosives, improved by Mr. Rand.

The Van der Linde Gang's explosive technology had advanced significantly. Their previous detonators had been replaced with new cast-iron grenades, similar to modern hand grenades. While manufacturing limitations meant they weren't as powerful as contemporary grenades, they were far more effective than the old detonators. Unlike the game's surprisingly potent but small-radius detonators, these cast-iron grenades ensured shrapnel expulsion upon detonation, drastically increasing their lethal range. Plus, cast iron was easy to produce.

Anyone stumbling upon this scene would have been utterly stunned by the sheer size of the force. The Van der Linde Gang had expanded recruitment, leading to a rapid increase in both veteran members and new gunmen. Paying these thousand gunmen alone cost $100,000 monthly.

Despite this hefty expense, the gang's finances remained robust. With 1,500 female workers, averaging two garments produced per person per day, and each garment selling for $25 with a $5 production cost, monthly production reached $560,000. This yielded a profit of $400,000 after expenses—more than enough to cover worker wages, and that didn't even include real estate revenue or current port smuggling operations.

Since taking over the Van Horn Trading Post, port smuggling had been contracted out to the gang. Even the ships that transported John and his companions had been seized from the trading post. Such smaller operations no longer required Dutch's direct involvement; Hosea or Mr. Strauss handled them entirely. Dutch's primary focus remained on territorial expansion and the arms business. Indeed, if not for the continuous bunker expansion in New Hanover, the Van der Linde Gang's presence in Saint Denis would already be considered top-tier.

Carriages continued to arrive, transporting logistical supplies for the thousand gunmen: eighty Maxim guns, ten cannons with corresponding ammunition, and a thousand sets of bulletproof paper armor and helmets that had been prepared long ago. While these couldn't stop close-range rifle bullets, they offered good defense against pistol fire and significantly reduced casualties even against rifles. Additionally, ten carriages carried ten sets of full steel, full-defense steel armor. Dutch, recalling the armored soldiers he'd seen in Battlefield, had specifically ordered fifty sets from a Saint Denis factory at a high price to bolster the intensity of their charges. However, these were too heavy for most, inconvenient for movement, and vulnerable to incendiary bottles, so only a limited number were ordered, primarily for deterrence and fixed-point assaults.

Male workers, full of envy, unloaded goods from the carriages, their gazes fixed on the vast, dark mass of gunmen.

"Oh, these gunmen are so impressive! Damn it, why can't I improve my marksmanship? I've wanted to fight for Mr. Van der Linde for a long time. Look at these gunmen, damn it, even the United States Army doesn't have their equipment and morale!" one exclaimed.

"I also want to fight for Mr. Van der Linde! Damn it, I must practice my marksmanship diligently and become one of these gunmen!" another vowed.

"Alas, I'm miserable. My wife absolutely refuses to let me join Mr. Van der Linde's gunmen. Damn! I've decided to kick her out after she gives birth. Our current lives are all thanks to Mr. Van der Linde, but when it's our turn to repay him, she's unwilling. I'm sure if there ever comes a day when I can't work, my wife will definitely leave me without looking back, letting me fend for myself!" a third lamented.

"Your wife is truly something, damn it! My wife strongly supports me becoming Mr. Van der Linde's gunman. She always tells me that if Mr. Van der Linde doesn't have gunmen to protect him, our good life cannot continue! But unfortunately, I've never even touched a gun before, and no matter how much I practice during this time, I can't meet the standard," yet another chimed in.

As the transport workers continued, they periodically glanced at the gunmen's formation nearby. Several sailboats from the Van Horn Trading Post had already been moved to the sea, ready to ferry all the supplies and, subsequently, the gunmen, to Guarma Island.

Hosea, now clad in his cowboy suit and carrying a Marko semi-automatic rifle, was in charge of the operation. He conversed with John, Charles, and others.

"Sean, Lenny, Charles, Flying Eagle, Elephant, you're responsible for leading the troops. As per Dutch's instructions, completely clear all Spanish troops on Guarma Island. As for the prisoners, bring them all back to become mine workers. Remember, Dutch demands a strict cleanup for this operation, ensuring Guarma Island is completely safe! So all caves and cliffs must be thoroughly cleared!" Hosea instructed.

Then, turning to John, he added, "And John, my boy, perhaps you shouldn't participate in this operation after all. You can't swim, there's no need to board the ship again."

Hosea, the old man, was acting eccentrically. This operation wasn't initially his responsibility, but he'd insisted on joining the combatants, claiming he'd never witnessed a battle of this scale and didn't want to miss the Van der Linde Gang's first full-scale major battle.

John, unwilling to be excluded, argued forcefully. "Oh, come on, Hosea, I've been on a steamboat twice already. If you don't let me go, you shouldn't have sent me to Guarma Island for that mission. Now it's finally time for a big show, and you won't let me go. That's not right!"

Hosea was about to earnestly persuade him when a sudden remark interrupted their conversation.

"Oh... John Marston! Unbelievable, you didn't drown on Guarma Island? Good heavens, did you learn to swim, Marston?"

Arthur's sudden voice disrupted Hosea's persuasion, drawing their gaze. On the road not far away, Dutch and Arthur rode their horses towards them. They had just returned from Saint Denis, where they had informed Mr. Brown about the advance on Guarma Island to ensure the Cuban and United States Navies wouldn't interfere.

Thankfully, Mr. Brown had been reliable. The Morgan Family's forces had already occupied Guarma Island, causing both Cuba and the United States to selectively ignore the island, which they didn't value much anyway. America's vast land meant they genuinely didn't care about a small island like Guarma. And since Americans would be developing it, there was no risk of it being occupied by other countries, so Mr. Brown's influence held sway. As for Cuba, their internal situation was already a mess, and there was even less to say about a place still occupied by the Spanish and agreed upon by the United States itself.