1840Indian rebirth

1840.

United States of America, Midwest, an unincorporated territory.

On the slightly undulating wilderness, there are dozens of conical cowhide tents. This is the most common type of dwelling among Plains Indians and is called a "tipee."

However, the Indians here did not enjoy the comfort of the owner's home. Instead, they were counted as corpses by a dozen white men holding rifles, and their blood stained the surrounding land red.

"We're rich, haha, these Apache scalps are worth over two thousand dollars!"

"I think there is at least a three thousand dollar bounty. Don't forget these adult men. Their scalps are worth a hundred dollars... Oh, by the way, the furs in their camp can also be sold for a lot of money."

For a long time, colonial governments in the Americas had issued bounties against Indians. The bounties were often evidenced by severed scalps. The price of the bounty varied depending on the period and region, but was generally quite high.

For example, the bounty for scalps of women and children was fifty dollars, and the bounty for scalps of adult men was one hundred dollars. In this era, Americans were still mainly engaged in agriculture, and most people's monthly income was only about fifteen dollars, which was enough to be regarded as a heavy reward.

Of course, it is not easy to get this bounty, especially when you are facing warlike Indians like the Apaches, and it is common for you to get involved.

"It's a big bounty, we have to have a drink!"

The white people were talking with harvest-like smiles on their faces, and then they took out their knives and began to harvest their trophies - scalps.

"Thank God..."

There were many devout believers among them, and they were praying habitually. The scalps of dozens of Apache Indians, although the majority were women and children, could give almost everyone a bounty equivalent to a year's income.

There is only gratitude in the heart of a devout person.

"Shet!" a young white man suddenly cursed, but he accidentally hurt his hand while scalping the Indian, and he was very angry.

"What's wrong? Didn't you say you have done this job before?"

A bit of embarrassment flashed across the young man's face, and he turned around and replied: "Come over and help me, Connor, my hand is injured."

Connor was unshaven and unkempt, but he was obviously a veteran. He was holding two complete scalps of hair in his hands, but there was no trace of blood on his clothes.

He smiled and walked over: "Watch it!"

As he spoke, Connor raised his hand and stabbed the dagger into the back of the Indian corpse's head. Then, as if he just shook his wrist from side to side, he made a neat circle of incisions.

Then he grabbed the hair on the top of the corpse's head with his other hand and yanked hard. There was a cracking sound and the bloody scalp was torn off!

"How's it going? Have you learned it?"

The young man did not answer, but frowned, as if he had discovered something, and stared straight at a conical tent at the edge of the Indian camp.

At this moment, a thin figure with a naked upper body, black hair, and yellow skin suddenly burst out of the tent and ran away as hard as he could. He looked only eight or nine years old.

a child.

Or rather, fifty dollars.

"Ah, there is still a fish that slipped through the net!"

Connor was the first to react. He immediately put down his scalp, picked up his rifle and chased after him.

But then someone said: "Connor, leave him alone. The Apache warriors of this clan seem to be coming back soon. I think we have to retreat as soon as possible!"

"It's just a little guy, he'll be fine soon!" Connor's voice faded away.

The Apache boy was quite far away, and he was running as hard as he could, but it was obviously impossible to outrun an adult, and he was caught up by Connor not long after.

As the distance shortened, Connor raised his rifle and pulled the trigger.

"Bang!"

Rifles, or rifled guns, are criticized by some because of their slow loading speed, but due to the rifling in the barrel, their shooting accuracy is much better than that of smoothbore guns.

This shot hit the Indian boy in the back, and his fragile body was immediately penetrated by the lead bullet, causing blood to splash!

The little guy screamed and immediately fell to the ground.

Connor did not immediately go over to harvest the scalp, but first replenished ammunition for his rifle out of a good habit he had developed over the years.

First, pour sixty grains of gunpowder into the muzzle of the gun, then stuff the lead bullet wrapped in oil paper into it, then take a small mallet and purge from the back, knock the bullet into the barrel and stab it.

Compact to the bottom of the chamber...

Well-trained and well-trained.

It only took him more than half a minute, yes, more than half a minute. This speed was enough for him to become a qualified soldier.

After each quick reload, Connor couldn't help but exhale slightly. This gave him a sense of security. In fact, this habit saved his life more than once. To him, this was like God's blessing.

After doing this and making sure that he could fire the next shot now, he walked to the Apache boy who had fallen to the ground, took out the dagger again, and leaned over to cut off the scalp.

However, as soon as he leaned over, he couldn't help but froze and looked at the Apache boy's back in disbelief - the gunshot wound there was healing at a speed visible to the naked eye!

"this……"

Connor blinked hard, trying to dispel what he thought was an illusion, but unfortunately, it was not an illusion.

The wound on the Apache boy's back is still healing rapidly, and the granulation squirms like earthworms, then condenses and closes.

In a moment, the terrible wounds caused by the lead bullets healed completely, leaving only some light-colored traces, which are the color of new skin.

So weird!

During this short period of time, Connor's spiritual world suffered an unprecedented impact.

He had been a hunter, been on the battlefield, and had seen many bloodier scenes... But neither the brains of his companions nor the intestines of the enemy had made him feel the fear at this time: "God, what is this?"

!”

Immediately afterwards, something more terrifying happened.

After the wound was basically healed, the Apache boy climbed up as if nothing had happened, looking around blankly and muttering something as if no one was around.

Connor does not understand the language of the Apaches, but he is certain that this is definitely not the language of the Apaches, let alone English!

In fact, let alone him, on the North American continent at this time, there was probably only one person in a hundred who could tell what language it was.

This is a language from another hemisphere, Chinese.

Anyone who speaks Chinese is naturally a Chinese soul.

"...Have you been hallucinating for so long before dying?" Ma Shao looked confused. His mind was a little confused, but he seemed to be gradually waking up.

He comes from China in the 21st century and is a young middle school physics teacher.

Mashao thought he had died, or at least was dying, or died of illness. When he was dying, he even heard the flattening beep of the electrocardiogram. The brain may not be dead yet, and it is normal to have some hallucinations.

But the hallucination seemed too long, he felt that it lasted at least ten minutes.

And why does the consciousness seem to be getting more and more clear... Is this the case for normal people after death?

"Ah!" A frightened and angry shout suddenly came from behind, frightening the horse whistle, and he suddenly regained consciousness.

However, he did not act in time, and almost at the same moment, a dagger was inserted into his Tianling Gai.

The real pain made him realize that this might not be an illusion.

What's outrageous is that, except for the not-so-severe pain, nothing happened to him - he felt like there was a BUFF or something on his body, which caused the wound to heal very quickly, which was equivalent to a kind of...

Temporary invincibility.

Just like that, a dagger was stuck in Tianling Gai. He turned around and saw a middle-aged white man: This man was wearing old-fashioned Western clothes, as if he came from an old American movie. Next to him was a knife of at least

The muzzleloader gun that had been out of use for a hundred years fell to the ground.

This guy was paralyzed by the sight of the horse whistle.

"You, you... the devil! The devil!" Connor's voice was trembling and his words were incoherent. He fell to the ground and tried to crawl back, but his legs and feet didn't work very well.

There was nothing he could do, the scene in front of him was too horrifying, a man with a knife in his head was standing in front of him unharmed!

The United States has a strong religious atmosphere, especially in this era. Even if the vast majority of people are not believers, they still have a certain respect for religion.

Therefore, Connor naturally thought of the devil, and he could not think of any other explanation other than the devil.

The horse whistle was actually also panicked. He was completely confused by the situation in front of him, especially the dagger on his Tianling Cover.

However, his intuition told him that this state of biological invincibility would not last long, and he must remove the dagger as soon as possible.

He vaguely felt that the unknown energy that maintained this state was gradually fading away from his body. Once this energy completely faded, he would die immediately... even though he had just died once.

Ma Shao immediately gritted his teeth, then used both hands to pull out the dagger inserted in his head!

Naturally, Connor was even more frightened by this situation.

But his fear seemed to have passed its peak, and he began to calm down. During his rapid breathing, his eyes noticed the rifle on the ground not far away.

Even if the Indian boy in front of him is possessed by a demon, he can't just sit back and wait for death!

The gun has just been loaded with ammunition and is ready to fire at any time!

Connor mustered up unprecedented courage, overcame his body's weakness, got up from the ground, and lunged for his rifle like a tiger pouncing on its prey.

When the horse whistle saw this, he didn't think much and rushed towards the rifle. At the same time, he threw the dagger he had just pulled out of his head at Connor.

"Ah!" Connor was stabbed in the shoulder. Although the injury was not deep, he screamed and took a step slower. Then Ma Shao took the rifle in his hand.

Looking at the horse whistle with the gun aimed at him, Connor opened his mouth in a daze: "You... are not a devil?"

The devil doesn't seem to be able to use a gun, right?

Ma Shao's English wasn't very good, to be precise, it was very poor, but he understood this sentence.

Although the situation is not fully understood yet, there is no doubt that the white man in front of him wants to kill himself, and he will naturally not be polite.

"Fuck_you , I'm_god!" Ma Shao replied in broken English, and then pulled the trigger.

"Bang!"