Abyss Train

Chapter 794 Bow and Arrow

  [Part ①: Gang Ceremony]

If you want to add a perfume bottle, you need to do three things. The tools you need to use are a rope and a stick.

Under the archway of Sloth Town, at the gathering place next to the well.

The gang's horse bandit captain sat on the ground. He was responsible for imparting his experience to the students and teaching them how to accomplish these three things.

The squad leader's name was Sullivan Okopela, a local, red-haired, and twenty-one years old.

His eyes were narrow, his nose was round, and he had many freckles. A black cape covered his body, and a raincoat blocked the sun, hiding his skin, whip, and gun.

"If you want to join the perfume bottle, the first thing you need to do is——"

Sullivan raised his index finger and smiled affectionately at the students.

"—with ropes and sticks."

He took out the teaching props behind him: a wooden stick soaked in butter, a sheep tendon, and a ball of cotton and linen.

"Make a bow."

The students were all young and strong handsome guys with fair skin and blue eyes. They couldn't help but be curious. They all leaned their heads out and stared at the tools in Mr. Sullivan's hands.

Sullivan began to make a bow. He twisted the scattered cotton and linen threads and sheep tendons together, kneading them into a tight line with his deft hands, and then stepped on the poplar wood, using this strong rope as a small saw to cut fine grooves on the steps of the bar.

Then they were assembled and rolled, tied with a slipknot, and finally a kerosene lamp was taken to bake the bow at a low temperature to ensure that the antiseptic butter had thoroughly penetrated into the wood.

Sullivan showed the boys his weapons.

"Done!"

The young people were full of praise for the captain's craftsmanship and were amazed.

"As expected of you, the captain..."

"It's amazing! Can it be used to hunt rabbits?"

"Mr. Sullivan, isn't this a primitive weapon? Why do the Perfume Bottle Gang also need to learn the craft of making bows? We all know how to use guns!"

Faced with students' questions, Sullivan explained patiently.

Sullivan: "Because courage is important!"

Student: “Courage?”

Sullivan: “Courage is knowing what fear is and accepting it as your own.”

As he said this, Mr. Sullivan drew an arrow from beneath his cloak and raincoat.

His posture of drawing the bow and arrow was very standard, definitely not something a layman could do. It was like he was a hunter who had learned from the natives for many years.

Where the arrow pointed, several students looked at each other, not knowing what to do.

When faced with this arrow, they felt unspeakable fear.

When I was young, the brave and warlike warriors in the Indian tribes used sharp arrows to take people's lives and then skinned and boned the captives.

As Mr. Sullivan swung his bow sideways, the arrows swept across everyone's nose.

The students also saw the full picture of the arrow.

Its blade was broad and bright white, and apart from that the entire arrowhead seemed to be made of dark gold with emerald green markings.

It's expensive and looks like it's worth the money.

Another student asked loudly and impatiently.

"Mr. Sullivan! If I join the Perfume Bottle Gang! I can get this arrow too! Right?"

"No!~No!~NO!~" Sullivan continued to explain: "Don't be anxious. First you have to learn how to make a bow and understand your enemy."

Another student realized this and echoed in a hoarse voice: "The captain wants us to kill Indians!"

Sullivan's face immediately lit up with a warm and kind smile that showed his sixteen white teeth and his eyes turned into crescents.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! After Homo sapiens learned how to make bows and arrows, they became top predators and the king of beasts. If you want to join the Perfume Bottle Gang, you must do this first - make a bow, understand its structure, analyze its weaknesses, overcome your inner fear, and ultimately surpass it!”

That’s the first thing.

Sullivan began to talk about the second thing.

Also related to [rope] and [stick].

He took out two logs, one thick and one thin, and two ropes, one long and one short.

Put them together, using the long and thick wood as the stove and the short and thin wood as fire starter.

Use these tools to drill sparks out of the loose wood chips.

The students were eager to try it out, thinking that it was a very simple task as their parents had taught them this kind of wilderness survival knowledge.

Just when the students were about to rush forward, Sullivan suddenly raised his head and stood up abruptly from his hunched over position to get fire!

His body was like that of a nimble and powerful wolf, his eyes became aggressive, and his intimidating aura scared away these disobedient little wolf cubs.

Sullivan stepped on the burning wood, rolling it around and playing with it.

"You must think this is an easy thing to do."

The students were terrified, and one timid child involuntarily wanted to pull out a gun from behind so that he could use this sophisticated machine to protect himself.

Mr. Sullivan took his time, stirring the wood to fan the flame, kicking it up gently and holding it in his hand.

“It’s actually very difficult to do.”

Holding a torch, he whistled at several quarry workers, who carried a wounded redskin prisoner out of the cellar.

"Young men, if you want to join the perfume bottle, the second thing you need to do is actually learn how to swallow cooked food."

Sullivan said as he did.

Tie the captives to the grill using [rope] and [stick].

Pile dry pine wood and tinder-friendly pine needles under the grill.

Then, send the flame in your hand.

"Mr. Sullivan... Mr. Sullivan! He is a living person... He is still alive!" Some students have begun to back off.

"Captain, are you kidding us? Ha... We don't eat human flesh, seriously..." There was a wanderer who came here from another place because of the reputation of the place. He still had fantasies in his heart and looked at the twitching native with cold sweat on his forehead.

Mr. Sullivan spoke calmly, a very skilled cook, explaining to the students the benefits of cooked food and the precautions that need to be taken when eating cooked food.

"Before you start cooking, prepare your tools. Silverware is the best choice as it has the function of disinfection and self-cleaning."

“When cooking, you should pray to God, learn to be grateful and smile, and face God’s gifts and mercy with a smile.”

"Flames can kill most life on the planet, including viruses and bacteria. You need to be skilled at controlling the heat. If food starts to smell burnt, peel off the burnt parts in time."

"Before the meal begins, in addition to the thanksgiving session, we must also be alert to the curse of the Native Americans - they are also a kind of [carnivore], and in the cold and hungry winter, they will occasionally eat their companions to survive until the next year."

"There's a legend in Algonquin County that a guy who eats human flesh will turn into a [wendigo], a mindless, mad, horned monster."

"To avoid this curse, we just need to remove the head of the food, and then we can use it without worry."

During the short time that Teacher Sullivan was teaching, the red-skinned native on the grill was completely dead, without any sound.

"The second thing is to tie up the prey with ropes and make a grill with sticks before it eats you."

The students just looked at the hunting knife as if it was placed on their necks.

No one dared to take a step forward——

-Joining the perfume bottle gang is the necessary second thing, which they can't seem to do.

Sullivan still had a smile on his face, as if he was comforting his younger generation and relatives, as if he was comforting a newborn baby, like a gentle mother. ——Still no student dared to step forward.

Mr. Sullivan taught and persuaded him earnestly, and asked him to take out the golden arrow.

"If someone eats this piece of meat first! Even if I give it to this fine young man as a gift! No one dares to taste it? Aren't you all [meat eaters]?"

Finally, a young man who looked a little bolder took a step forward, his eyes revealing a desire for wealth and fame, power and strength.

The student only took one step. He clearly remembered that he only took one step!

But his body stumbled forward involuntarily, and when he came to his senses, it was as if a pair of invisible hands pushed him in front of Teacher Sullivan.

  ——When he raised his head again, time seemed to have disappeared for several seconds, and he couldn't remember anything that happened in between!

When the student saw Teacher Sullivan's pleased and approving expression, he could not stop the nausea in his throat. He leaned on the steps and vomited continuously, with some greasy smell stuck on his tongue.

  [Part②·Blood Feud]

Mr. Sullivan pulled a floral handkerchief from his cloak and gently wiped the tears from his eyes.

"I'm so touched...you did such a great job."

When the student had vomited out all the filth in his stomach, he returned to the team in shock and fear. He didn't know where that inexplicable power came from.

  Obviously! A pair of hands pushed him!

What brought him to Teacher Sullivan?

When he was hesitant, when he saw the gold, that moment when he was blinded by greed.

When he still considered himself a human being.

The hands that turned him into the Wendigo, a pair of invisible hands, pushed him...

He opened his eyes wide and glanced at his companions, with a hint of resentment and complaint in his eyes. He began to feel proud and satisfied again, as if he had achieved something that his peers could not do.

the student asked Sullivan with joy and pride.

"Mr. Sullivan! That arrow! All that precious gold! It's mine now? Mine?"

Mr. Sullivan laughed. "Of course I lied to you! What were you thinking?"

The student's face was full of disappointment, but he did not dare to blame Sullivan. A stronger sense of hunger captured him - one day, he might be able to stand on that small podium, in front of the spring door, and give orders while stepping on another corpse's head.

Mr. Sullivan took out three wooden sticks and three ropes from the bar, twisted them together, twisted the three wooden sticks into a strong and durable handle, and used the ropes to bite the knots to make a thin whip.

At the very end of the whip, an arrow is stuffed in to act as a counterweight to keep the whip balanced when it is swung.

He used a loud whistle to call the slave laborers in the quarry and made the Chinese and blacks kneel in the well square in front of the archway.

Sullivan taught the students the key points of the last thing.

"If you want to join the perfume bottle, you also need to learn how to make a whip."

The long whip had a sharp blade. When it was swung, it could split the scorching summer air, and a turbulent and fiery wind would rush out, scratching the soft, fluffy beards on the students' faces.

“We are all God’s people, and we are to tame livestock with [rope] and [staff], like this.”

The long whip hit the slave's spine, and with a scream, a black man kneeling on the ground had a deep wound on his back that was visible to the bone.

When the whip returned to Sullivan's hand, drops of blood fell from the air onto the students' cheeks. Some wanted to block it with their hands, while others wanted to cover their faces and not look.

They were all caught by the gangsters and had to face this scene.

The whipped slave struggled on the ground with his eyes bulging, but after just a few seconds, he couldn't even scream. He looked just like a rooster being strangled by the throat.

Red blotches began to form on the slaves' skin, and the arrows hidden in the whips seemed to be soaked in poison.

When the scars spread to the poor man's chest, the slave let out a shrill scream, kicked his legs, and died suddenly.

In Sullivan's hand, the bright edge of the arrow was not stained with a speck of blood.

“Anyone want to try it?” the teacher wondered aloud. “Like me, all you need to do is make a [bow], become a carnivore, and then take this arrow, swing the whip, and the door to the perfume bottle gang will be open.”

As if they had realized that the slaves around them were dead, their companions who had fallen to their knees on the ground, and the other slaves began to mourn and weep, sighing and begging for mercy in their own native languages.

After hearing the promise from their leader, the young wolf cubs' eyes became bloodshot and they could no longer suppress the murderous urge in their hearts.

Someone immediately took the whip from Teacher Sullivan, wanting to prove his determination.

He looked at the black man's strong back and then chose the short yellow slave worker as his target.

He raised the whip high. A few hours ago, he was still in the back kitchen of the farm helping his grandmother dry the barley. He was holding the guard dog and counting the stars in the early morning, dozing off and humming a song.

——Now his face was hideous, with a weird smile on his lips, and he smelled an inexplicable fragrance.

  That feeling comes again!

As if there were hands!

No! There was an "invisible person" who was holding him, guiding him, holding his elbows and waist, and teaching him how to swing the whip.

"Bang!--"

A gunshot rang out and the whip suddenly broke into two pieces.

The bullet hit the weather vane of the chapel, breaking it into four or five pieces, and shattered a corner of the tower. Lime and bricks fell down, scaring away several sheep that were roaming in the backyard of the church.

Mr. Vincent pulled the reins, jumped off his horse, and gave Dolly a hard stab in the butt.

The horse immediately turned around and ran away.

More than seventy feet apart, Sullivan and Vincent looked at each other from a distance.

It’s almost noon, time for lunch.

The [cooked food] sizzles on the grill.

The strong wind blew open Mr. Sullivan's black cloak, revealing the gleaming silver pistol underneath.

Vincent released his grip on the trigger, and the grappling hook released its grip from the cylinder, making a metallic grinding sound.

The slaves were still weeping, and the students were hiding behind the hired hands and gang members.

Vincent: "I'm here to collect a debt."

Mr. Sullivan shrugged.

"Which account?"

Vincent pulled out a dozen Yellow Pages contracts from his tattered overalls at the back of his waist.

They were his co-workers, his partners, the brothers and sisters who set out together on the other side of the ocean, docked together, went through life and death together, and built the railway together.

Now they have turned into dust and blown away by the wind. They fell on the red mud and followed the groups of wind-blown grass to rush to the Gobi Desert.

Sullivan's expression was no longer as relaxed as before, but became serious. "You threw away the account books. It's hard to ask the insurance company to pay you. Go and pick them up."

Wen Bucai: "I don't want money."

Sullivan smiled and said, "What do you want? Where are you from? Don't want to talk about business? Ask your boss to come see me!"

Wen Bucai tore off his work badge and said: "I don't want to talk about business. I want you to pay with your lives. I want blood debt to be paid with blood."

Sullivan didn't take it seriously at first. He just waved at his companions, drove away the nosy students, and asked the brothers around the meeting place square to come over. At the same time, he said to Wen Bucai -

"——Hey, I never provoked you."

The sun just passed over the two people's heads, almost crushing all the shadows under their feet.

Wen Bucai: "I just saw it and felt it. There is also an evil spirit following you - it seems to be very powerful."

Sullivan's face changed drastically, and cold sweat slowly emerged from his forehead.

Blowing from the northwest is not only a surging hot wind, but also a strong psychic tide.

Wen Bucai ejected the shell and reloaded. He could only hear the "da da" sound of the metal parts colliding as the cylinder rotated, but he could not see any movement of his body.

  ——Yes, Sullivan realized it! This guy has soul power!

Wen Bucai waved his hand in provocation, inviting Sullivan Okopela to a duel.

"bring it on!"

  [Real name: Sullivan Okopela]

[Background: His parents, uncle, and aunt died in the great pioneering of the westward movement, at the hands of North American natives, and he hated people of color very much - later he joined the Perfume Bottle Gang and made a living by looting caravans.]

[Soul Power: Thyme]

[Destructive power:? ? ? ]

[speed:? ? ? ]

[Range: ? ? ? ]

[Sustainability: ? ? ? ]

[Precision:? ? ? ]

[Growth:? ? ? ]

[Special ability: ? ? ? ]