Aquisition

"Shit! Shit! Shit!!!" Mac's maniacal screams tore through the air, his machine gun spitting bullets in a frenzied arc that was impossible to watch without a wince. Dutch and Arthur exchanged subtle frowns, silently disapproving of Mac's unbridled savagery. Damn it, he always loved violence, loved bloodshed.

Before their thoughts could fully form, Hosea's face, wreathed in a triumphant smile, emerged from behind a cannon atop the mountaintop. "Oh, Dutch, firing a cannon feels truly wonderful! I never thought a cannon could have such a strong feel!"

Alright, this old man is a lunatic too. Dutch's frown deepened into a sigh. "Hosea, you damned old man, you're completely different now, old friend. You're too crazy!"

"Oh, John, you must remember to remind me not to provoke this old man in the future. I feel like he's gone completely wild now," Arthur muttered, a slight shiver running down his spine.

This battle didn't even require their direct intervention, so Dutch and his senior gang members merely waited on horseback at the very rear of the formation. Mac's bloodlust was one thing; he simply loved killing. But no one could have predicted Hosea's descent into a similar frenzy. Damn it, the first shell fired just now was from this old man!

The escalating power of the Van der Linde Gang had evidently fueled an unprecedented surge in Hosea's confidence. Before, he'd merely entertained thoughts of rebellion; now, he was personally unleashing hell on the battlefield. Dutch felt a growing concern that if he didn't rein Hosea in, the old man might just try to charge the American White House by himself next!

"Hahaha, Dutch, a person always needs to experience things he has never experienced before, and the same goes for me now." Hosea remained unbothered, chuckling without pretense, unconcerned by Dutch and Arthur's teasing. He was old, his ambitions largely sated, and now all he craved was to experience as much of life as he possibly could.

"Hahaha, you are still young, Hosea, you are still young! William, at your same age, can still be president, and I'm sure you'll live longer than him!" The current American President was McKinley, a man destined for assassination in 1901. Thus, barring the unforeseen, Hosea would indeed outlive him.

"Hahaha, I hope so, Dutch." Hosea nodded with a smile, then mounted his horse.

Dutch's gaze swept towards the distant garrison base. In just the few moments they had been talking, the entire Spanish garrison base had been utterly flattened! The remaining hundred-odd Spanish soldiers had been utterly incapable of resistance. Eighty Maxim guns alone were enough to completely mow them down, not to mention fifty terrifying "Iron Men" relentlessly advancing, impervious to their bullets. Furthermore, over a thousand gunmen with semi-automatic rifles continuously rained fire from the surrounding mountains and forests. For those hundred-plus men to hold out for over thirty seconds was already a testament to their sheer tenacity.

Looking at the completely decimated battlefield, whether it was Arthur, Hosea, Mac, John, Charles, or any other Van der Linde member, all were shocked, all filled with a profound sense of awe. Damn it, they never knew fighting could be so simple!

Gazing at the eighty Maxim guns now silent, the cannons on the surrounding hilltops, and the dense ranks of a thousand gunmen alongside fifty Iron Armors, a deeply felt emotion wellled within them.

"Oh, shit, is this civilization, Dutch?" Mac murmured, a genuine chill running down his spine as he surveyed the victorious ranks of gunfighters. If they hadn't changed, would they too have been crushed by this tide of "civilization," completely annihilated by the relentless wheels of time, just like these Spanish soldiers? A thousand against five hundred, zero casualties,if this wasn't a display of civilization, then what was?

"Yes, Mac, it seems you understand now, my boy. The clothes we wear, the weapons in our hands, the firearms of our troops, including our logistical resources—all of this is civilization. Now, I think you should be able to understand the greatness of civilization." Dutch spread his arms, gazing at the scene before him with a mix of satisfaction and solemnity.

Though a thousand against five hundred with zero casualties seemed remarkable and civilized, it was, in truth, merely scratching the surface of what civilization could achieve in warfare. These Van der Linde Gang members had never seen airplanes, never witnessed the devastation of a Gulf War. The true hierarchy of civilization could only be fully displayed in advanced, modern warfare.

The Van der Linde Gang members stared at the battlefield where the smoke of war had dissipated, their worldviews completely shattered. When had these damned cowboys ever witnessed such a terrifying spectacle? They had always believed the world was just a vast Wild West, and that no matter how powerful someone was, they were just like the Pinkerton Detectives, with more gunmen and more firepower. But this small-scale war had utterly demolished their beliefs, making them realize they were indeed long outdated. In America, they were nothing more than grasshoppers in autumn, their jumping days nearly over.