Gringos

The previously bustling and noisy tavern was now eerily silent.

A group of outlaws knelt in unison on the street, each with their hands clutching their heads, their expressions panicked.

Sh*t!, when had this damned group of them ever seen such a sight? Look at the warships docked at Rhine Harbor; sh*t!, one warship would be overkill to fight them, like using a cannon to kill a mosquito, and there were ten of them, all neatly lined up!

And it wasn't just warships; there were even these five terrifying behemoths!

Dammit, they brought out steel fortresses. What kind of monsters are these?

Those who could be outlaws had long since cast fear aside; everyone knew that their head might fall off their neck at any moment.

However, after seeing these five steel behemoths, the fear in these people's minds surged, as if on cue.

Dammit, who had ever seen such a sight!

Especially the tracks, like a mixer, brutally crushing human bodies, intestines and internal organs squeezed out from their buttocks, bones protruding from their flesh—this terrifying way of dying touched their souls, making them fearful and disgusted, terrified and trembling.

Dammit, where had they ever seen such a way to die before!

The Van der Linde Gang gunmen, holding rifles, surrounded the street, herding these outlaws, each with a solemn and fanatical expression.

Working for Mr. Van der Linde was so maddeningly enticing; if not for the excellent treatment they received while alive, some might truly wish to die here directly and let their families collect subsidies.

Dutch disembarked from the oil tanker with satisfaction, leading Arthur, Hosea, and the others, slowly walking through the middle of the street.

His gaze swept over the surrounding gunmen, utterly satisfied.

This was his current strength. Warlords? No, they could already be considered a state machine!

Mr. Van der Linde led his gang members to the entrance of the tavern.

"Sh*t!, I've never seen such a dirty place!" Arthur's gaze swept through the tavern; trash was everywhere, the air was filled with a fishy stench, and various empty liquor bottles, even mixed with vomit, piled up on the counter's edge.

Outlaws liked to smoke and do drugs, and such people also liked to spit; the entire tavern floor was sticky with it, utterly disgusting.

"See, Arthur, this is what I told you; the people here are stubborn, they need to accept our salvation!" Dutch coldly snorted like an old charlatan, his mouth full of lofty words.

People in this era had not yet developed strong resistance to such rhetoric; they easily got carried away, especially these uncultured foreign commoners who had no resistance at all.

"You're right, Dutch!" Arthur nodded, feeling something was off.

They seemed to have been those damned bastards before, only now they had changed.

Mr. Lombardi and several other seemingly well-dressed individuals from inside the tavern were brought over, their heads pointed at by gunmen.

"Sir, sir, I am Lombardi. We, we don't have any conflict, do we, sir? Rhine Harbor is Mr. Amalfetano's territory. You, you doing this is against the rules!"

Mr. Lombardi couldn't quite grasp the situation; even at this point, he was still calling out Mr. Amalfetano's name.

He thought that if this well-dressed gentleman was involved in Mexico, he must know Mr. Amalfetano, so he thought that saying Mr. Amalfetano's name might make them hesitant.

However, his words indeed excited Dutch.

Dammit, they came here to sell arms, and the purpose of capturing this guy was to inquire about the distribution of forces in this place and then forcibly sell arms. Now, before even asking, this guy spilled the beans; this was practically a business opportunity delivered to their doorstep.

A satisfied smile squeezed onto Dutch's face.

"Mr. Amalfetano? Alright, gentlemen, we have a place to sell our first batch of arms! Arthur, find out Mr. Amalfetano's location, and the division of power here. Dammit, I don't want to wait until our arms are produced and have nowhere to sell them!"

"Alright, Dutch!" Arthur nodded, then looked at Bill.

"Hahaha, Arthur, let me do it!" A sinister smile appeared on Bill's face.

Bill's presence had been quite weak recently, mainly because his marksmanship was poor, and he wasn't good at close combat. Besides drinking a lot, there wasn't much use for him.

However, when it came to interrogation, he was the best after Mac.

Bill grinned sinisterly, pulled a dagger from his pant leg, then quickly stepped forward and pulled down Mr. Lombardi's pants.

"Oh, sh*t! I've never seen such a small one before! You damned thing, are you going to talk or not!" As he spoke, Bill gestured with the knife.

Stimulated by the coldness of the blade, Mr. Lombardi was so scared he almost peed himself. Tears streamed from his eyes, and he cried out in terror, "No, no, no! I was wrong, sir, I was wrong! What do I say? You haven't asked me what to say!"

"Dammit, tell me who exactly Mr. Amalfetano is, where his influence is, and how many large forces are around here!" Bill grabbed Mr. Lombardi's little Lombardi and roared.

"I'll talk, I'll talk!" Mr. Lombardi was completely scared to tears; he had never seen a man do that!

Arthur behind him couldn't bear to look, his face filled with disgusted anger as he scolded, "Oh~ sh*t! Bill, you damned thing, this isn't for your own pleasure right now!"

"Sh*t! Arthur, I'm interrogating!"

Bill was self-righteous, and Mr. Lombardi, terrified, spilled out all the information he knew, sentence by sentence.

"I'll talk! Mr. Amalfetano is the Big Boss of the Bartolo family. He has an army of over a thousand people in Mexico and occupies two mountain strongholds around Jon City, mainly cultivating and selling poppies. He also deals in oil and mineral resources and operates illegal liquor and tobacco in Jon City! Mr. Amalfetano is very powerful; the entire Jon City government has to act according to Mr. Amalfetano's wishes!

As for the other forces, they are all small gangs, and I don't know how many there are! Ahaha..."

"F*ck! This damned Mr. Amalfetano is truly a damned bastard!" Dutch listened to the intelligence and flew into a rage. He ordered Bill to release Mr. Lombardi and angrily rebuked:

"As a damned warlord, dealing in illicit goods is one thing, but why extend your hand so far to do those damned oil and mineral businesses?

This is truly beneath his status! I think it's necessary for us to help Mr. Amalfetano forcibly confiscate the oil and mines, and let Mr. Amalfetano return to his original profession!"

Dutch was furious, his gaze sweeping over Hosea and the others.

"Alright, gentlemen, now that we have the address, next, I need you to get to work."

"Hosea, have our men unload all the arms into these rooms, then you return with the ship and have our factory begin mass production of arms. Then use the ship to bring our workers over, rebuild this damned dock, and expand this place to a larger scale.

Javier, Arthur, Bill, John, I need you to take people to Jon City to gather information and get more complete intelligence.

The rest will temporarily stay here until our second batch of personnel arrives, then we will depart.

Dammit, Mr. Amalfetano is truly wayward, and that won't do, gentlemen, that won't do! We must reorganize our armaments, strike hard, and help him return to his proper path!"

Dutch's fear of insufficient firepower surfaced again.

Although their firepower was completely capable of encircling a warlord of over a thousand people, he preferred to fight a battle without pressure or casualties; he preferred to directly flatten the enemy.

Anyway, they had many people, so it was just like training troops.

Under Dutch's command, the members of the Van der Linde Gang quickly sprang into action.

Things were different now; the Van der Linde Gang used to operate cautiously, hiding their every move, but now they were completely unrestrained.

Hosea led a group of gunmen, escorting five to six hundred desperadoes from Rhine Harbor onto a steamboat. They would be transported to a mine in Lemoyne for penal labor.

Additionally, under Dutch's orders, three thousand soldiers from Lemoyne would be brought over next time, forming a force of five thousand to achieve complete military dominance.

Whether it was Jon City or Mr. Amalfetano, they had to buy firearms, whether they wanted to or not!

Furthermore, since Mr. Amalfetano was a damn warlord, why didn't he just focus on cultivating poppies? What about oil and mining businesses? These things had nothing to do with warlords. Why engage in businesses that fundamentally didn't fit their status?

They must be forcibly confiscated! All resources must be pulled back to Saint Denis and become the cornerstone of Mr. Van der Linde's production path!

Moreover, the Jon City government must express its sincere gratitude for the Van der Linde Gang's help by offering all resources, all wealth, and all people to Mr. Van der Linde, to show their appreciation!

As everyone knew, Mr. Van der Linde didn't rob; he just enjoyed training troops.

Rhine Harbor had completely become Mr. Van der Linde's territory. In addition, a thousand gunmen remaining there continuously cut down trees, expanded the Rhine Harbor's territory, and built watchtowers, just waiting for Hosea to transport cement and rebar so they could start building bunkers.

He couldn't help it; Mr. Van der Linde was timid and couldn't sleep without bunkers!

Dutch personally stayed in Rhine Harbor, overseeing its construction, while Arthur, Javier, John, and Bill rode their horses, leading fifty men, galloping towards Jon City.

"Javier, is your sister in Jon City?" Arthur rode at the very front.

With Dutch absent, the hierarchy was Arthur, John, Javier, and Bill.

So Arthur running at the front was implicitly accepted by everyone; no one would surpass him.

John rode behind him. Although young, John had joined early and was raised by Dutch and the others, so while he usually didn't show off, his status was invisibly high.

However, the Van der Linde Gang didn't pay much attention to this. In a Mafia family, the subordinates wouldn't dare to mock Big Boss, let alone show any displeasure. In gangs like the O'Driscoll Gang, the boss would brutally beat his subordinates, even to death on the spot, without issue.

But what about the Van der Linde Gang? That scoundrel Arthur would point at Dutch's nose daily and mock, "Oh, Dutch is thinking again, this isn't good!" John even dared to directly retort, "What's the plan? What the f*ck is the plan, Dutch?"

Who would dare to imagine this in other gangs?

The story of the Van der Linde Gang was full of regret, sadness, and exasperation, fundamentally because it was a gang with genuine camaraderie, like a family. If the O'Driscoll Gang were the protagonists, these bonds between desperadoes wouldn't be highlighted at all, only disgust and abhorrence.

Listening to Arthur's question, Javier hesitated slightly, then nodded and said, "Yes, Arthur, I received her letter when we first arrived in Valentine. She said she married a merchant and was doing some trade business with him, settling in Jon City for a while, but she might have already left." 

Javier was a little sad; his sister's letter not only mentioned her marriage but also their mother's passing.

The biggest regret was not being able to see Javier one last time.

"Alright, Javier, don't be sad, buddy. When Dutch takes Jon City, even if your sister isn't there, we can make time to look for her."

Arthur, uncharacteristically, didn't speak harshly but offered genuine comfort.

"Of course, Arthur!" Javier nodded, his emotions calming down a bit.

The four galloped with a mighty contingent of gunmen towards Jon City.

Jon City, a small city in Mexico. Mexico had a significant population, and because they were all natives, it even rivaled the United States at this stage, as the U.S. was a major immigrant country and its native population had been largely killed off.

However, due to internal turmoil and deliberate suppression by Europe and America, Mexico's economic level was extremely backward. Currently, due to autocratic rule, some large cities in Mexico had a basis for development, but the rest of the small cities were essentially no different in construction from towns like Valentine, just with more houses and more people.

Nevertheless, Jon City was still a city, and even if its standards weren't high, its basic infrastructure was decent.

Two-story buildings appeared before Arthur and the others as they drew closer.

Compared to Valentine, this place had a much larger population, so the city scale was vast. Due to varying terrain, a very long street was formed, lined with various small buildings and single-story houses. The streets were bustling with people, and the sidewalks were crowded with thugs, gang members, and Mafia members.

As a criminal nation valued by major European and American powers, this place was practically the European and American Golden Triangle, full of violence and sexual crime.

"Ah! This place is just like the old West, truly nostalgic!" Arthur's eyes lit up as he smelled the gunpowder in the air.

This city, filled with criminals and violence, made him feel like he was back home, familiar and moving.

"Sh*t! This is true paradise! I'm sure Mac would be scrambling to get here if he knew!" Bill laughed heartily, pointing at the various grim-faced thugs and gang members on both sides of the street.

During this time, Dutch had cleaned up New Hanover and Lemoyne, thoroughly eliminating all criminal organizations, which made it very difficult for them to adapt, especially having to greet others kindly when going out, which was torture for them.

Before, with people like Bronte around, there was still some excitement, but now that they were completely dominant, it was like a damn backyard, devoid of any thrill or enjoyment.

But arriving here, they truly felt comfortable.

Look at the ill-intentioned thugs on the street, look at the gang members on both sides already whispering to each other and even sending people back to report—this was normal! This was exhilarating!

Arthur's fingers trembled slightly, unable to resist reaching for his gun.

John was clearly more energized too, his eyes like a wolf's, scrutinizing the gang members on both sides of the road who were observing them, clearly ready to draw his gun.