America 1881: They Call Me Legend

The light coming from the small lighting window on the ceiling of the basement gradually became dim and faint, until it finally disappeared completely and became pitch black.

The basement door opened once, and a guard whom he had never seen before came down, hung up a dim lantern, and threw a small piece of bread as hard as a rock to each of the three men in the cell.

"I wish you a good dream on your last night." The guard dropped the last words, closed the basement door, and took the ladder away.

Chen Jianqiu was lying on the bench without moving, but his ears were always paying attention to the movements upstairs.

At first, there were still a few people chatting, and the content ranged from two fools fighting each other on a nearby farm to an unknown widow who recently appeared in the town. It was not until one person suggested that they go for a drink that the voices gradually died down.

, there was only the sound of a person pacing back and forth.

After an unknown amount of time, the pacing stopped.

Chen Jianqiu sat up and gently knocked on the iron railing to signal the black guys to start working.

After Sean fumbled for a while, the lock was opened with a "click". Then, he once again proved his professionalism. After a while, the locks of Chen Jianqiu and Feiniao's cells, as well as the bracelets and anklets of the three of them, were unlocked.

, all fell to the ground.

Sean stepped on Asuka's shoulders, raised his hands, and carefully pushed against the basement door.

It couldn't be opened, the door was locked from above.

Chen Jianqiu patted Sean's leg, motioning for him to come down first, and then whispered something in their ears.

The first floor at the moment

The guards who were left on duty were putting their feet up on the table, reading today's newspaper, and at the same time they were all cursing the charlatanism of their colleagues.

He has no part in drinking, gambling, and doing the dirty work.

Suddenly, a "winter" sound came from the basement.

"What the hell are these damn bastards doing?" The guard was filled with anger. He took out his riding whip from the drawer and held the lantern, preparing to go down and leave some memories for these three bastards before they die.

He opened the basement door, put down the ladder, put down the light, and stuck his head down.

"Boys, let daddy teach you how to be a prisoner!"

Then, he saw a pair of white eyes and a crescent-like white arc of light.

The guard was pulled down with a light on. One person held down his legs, another locked his arms, and another directly covered his mouth and nose.

After struggling desperately for several minutes, the guard stopped moving.

Feiniao tested his breathing, felt his pulse, and signaled to Chen Jianqiu that the guard was dead. He dragged the body to the cage, laid it down and threw it on the bench.

Chen Jianqiu climbed up the ladder gently, then leaned against the wall and quietly walked to the corner of the stairs on the second floor and looked up.

There was no movement, and the only person in the security station was the guard they had just killed.

I have such a big heart. Is it because the security in the west is too good? Or is it that the miners in this town are usually too honest.

He looked back and saw the birds following behind him.

"Let's go." Asuka said.

"Where's Sean?" Chen Jianqiu suddenly noticed that the black man was missing and turned around to ask.

The two retreated from the second floor and found that the door to the Sheriff's Office was open. The black guy's ear was pressed against a safe behind the Sheriff's seat, and his other hand was turning the knob.

"What are you doing? Leave quickly?" Feiniao was a little anxious and wanted to go over and pull Sean.

"Shh, don't talk." Sean put his index finger on his lips and made a silencing gesture towards Asuka.

The two of them looked at Chen Jianqiu at the same time. Obviously, they had already acquiesced that Chen Jianqiu was the commander of this temporary three-person team.

Jianqiu thought for a moment and stopped Feiniao. He glanced at the clock in the hall, and then said to Feiniao: "Go collect the gun and bullets. We will set off in five minutes."

Feiniao nodded and walked away quickly.

"Are you sure you can handle this?" Chen Jianqiu walked to the table and asked in a low voice.

Sean didn't answer. He was concentrating on listening to the sound of the yellow bullet in the safe lock. After a while, he only heard a "click" sound, and the first circle of numbers was correct.

Chen Jianqiu lamented the simplicity of safes in the 19th century. He turned around and walked to the desk in the Sheriff's Office, pulled out the drawer and began to look through the contents.

In the drawer on the far left, there was a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes. He picked up the cigarette and put it into his vest pocket. He opened the lid of the wine and leaned his nose on it to smell it. There was a smell of toasted smoke.

The aroma of nuts and cereals, and then I took a look at the label on the bottle.

"Kentucky bourbon?" He resisted the urge to raise his neck and take a sip, put the wine on the table, and opened the middle drawer.

The drawer was littered with messy newspaper clippings, ranging from the California Star to the Nevada Herald. The content was even more diverse. But without exception, they all advocated that Chinese workers had usurped the job opportunities of local workers and should be punished.

Expelled. Chen Jianqiu picked up one of them, with a cartoon printed on it, in which a white American wearing a top hat was kicking the butt of a Chinese with braids.

When did hard work become a reason for persecution?

He threw back the newspaper clippings in his hand and finally opened the rightmost drawer.

There was a book lying quietly in the drawer. Chen Jianqiu picked it up. A photo slipped out of the book. He picked it up and looked at it carefully. It was a group photo of several men at the door of the tavern.

He quickly found the coal mine owner and Sheriff Morris between the two rows of people. At this time, they were all wearing military uniforms and looked to be about 30 or 40 years old.

"It turns out they have known each other for a long time." Chen Jianqiu stuffed the photo back into the notebook and was about to open it to see what was written inside. But he heard a "bang" sound and turned around. It turned out that Sean had already plundered the safe and opened the door.

Closed.

"What was found inside?"

Sean shrugged and handed Chen Jianqiu a few U.S. dollars, which seemed to be about ten dollars. Chen Jianqiu did not take it, but stared at his face.

The black man was a little embarrassed by what he saw, and quickly handed him a deerskin bag: "Um, there is also this."

Chen Jianqiu made no move and still stared at the black man.

"Brother, there really is nothing else." The black man trembled.

"You should keep the money for now." Chen Jianqiu took the deerskin bag with a calm voice. He reached into the bag and pulled out a paper-like thing made of an unknown material.

The black man felt a little guilty. He had stolen ten dollars and chased him with his life. How could he become so generous now?

Chen Jianqiu did not look at him anymore, but unfolded the thing in his hand. The material of the thing was very soft, a little yellowish, and even wrinkled. There was a hastily drawn painting on it, which seemed to be depicting some scene.

He was about to take a closer look when the sound of birds flying next to him came.

"It's human skin." Feiniao held two spears in his hands, a revolver hanging on his waist, and carried his bow and arrows and the ax behind his back.

"A rifle, a shotgun, and a revolver belonging to the man we killed." Asuka put the gun and bullets on the table.

Chen Jianqiu looked at the guns on the table. The rifle was a Springfield 1861, an explosive model during the Civil War. The shotgun was double-barreled and the model was Colt 1878. Strictly speaking, it was a shotgun.

Type breech loading, powerful firepower, and worrying accuracy.

If the martial arts and body reactions are the instinctive reactions of this body, then this body seems to have never shot a gun before, at least it has no feeling; he had some understanding of firearms before time travel, but he had never used one, let alone

marksmanship.

Chen Jianqiu put the human skin back into his pocket and stuffed the small book he found in the drawer into it.

He threw the rifle to the Indians and the revolver to the blacks.

Sean's hand holding the gun was like holding a soldering iron. He threw the gun back in a hurry and shook his head like a rattle: "Hey, boss, I don't know how to use a gun."

Chen Jianqiu didn't say anything, put the revolver back into his waist, and raised the double-barreled shotgun.

"Set off!"