The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 736 You are a slaveholder, I am an abolitionist, but we both oppose the Black Eight Banners!
April 1862, 4, Missouri.

The St. Louis train station on the Mississippi River was shrouded in spring clouds. The vibration of the rails came from far away, and the black smoke of the steam locomotive crawled over the river bank like a giant python. The leader of the slavery faction, Sterling Price, clutched his gold-plated pocket watch, and the veins on his forehead throbbed. General Nathaniel Lyon, an abolitionist, adjusted his military cap, and his fingertips unconsciously touched the carved handle of the Colt revolver at his waist.

These two people who were supposed to be sworn enemies were now standing side by side, and the looks they gave each other were no longer filled with hatred, but instead, friendship!

This is really incredible! The Missouri slaveholders and abolitionists actually "fell in love" with each other, and the reason that brought these two factions together was, of course, the "Black Eight Banners" created by Emperor Xianfeng!

This system where black slaves could earn points by joining the army and earn promotions was unacceptable to both the slaveholders and the abolitionists, especially since black slaves could earn points by killing white people and then "become" white. How could this be possible? Isn't this confusing right and wrong?

Even the most radical abolitionist in Missouri, General Lyon, commander of the state militia, was furious when he learned the contents of the Eight Banners Law - liberating black slaves does not mean allowing them to become white people, nor does it mean recognizing that black slaves can be masters like white people!

For Price, the leader of the Missouri slavery faction, black slaves were not considered human beings at all! Not only were black slaves not considered human beings, but the Indians in Colorado and Indiana, and the Chinese on the West Coast were not considered human beings either. Now black slaves could actually become human beings by accumulating military merits, and could even become masters. This was the opposite of the heavenly power!
Absolutely unacceptable!

Thus, Mr. Price, a big slave owner in Missouri, and General Lyon, a leader of the abolitionists, "came together".
"Here they come." "The niggers are coming." "The nigger army is coming!" "Damn it!"

The whispers among the crowd spread like wildfire.

The first troop carrier roared to a stop at the platform, and the door flew open. Zeng Ke was the first to jump off the train. The gold-rimmed "Pure White Banner" uniform made Price's pupils shrink - this black slave dared to wear the sash of a southern gentleman! General Leon's face also darkened, because he saw a heavily made-up, voluptuous white woman carrying a rattan box and getting off the train with Zeng Ke. What was the relationship between this woman and the black officer?
Immediately afterwards, teams of black soldiers marched out in neat steps, and the bayonets of Minié rifles formed a silver wave in the sunlight.

O'Hara, Hampton III and a corps of dozens of white officers walked at the end, but they seemed to be a foil to this black torrent.

"Oh my God!" William Quinterill, an abolitionist, stepped back. "They gave the niggers Minié rifles. The white militia in Missouri doesn't have such good guns!"

Finally, Xianfeng, dressed in military uniform and the uniform of a major general of the federal army, walked out of a carriage surrounded by four colonels: Sushun, Yuanbao, De Ling and Linshu.

The slaveholder Claiborne Jackson spat out a mouthful of tobacco dregs and sneered as he came forward: "You are Governor Zhao, right?" He pointed at the black soldiers lined up on the platform and said, "Are you going to teach the niggers to point guns at their masters?"

Xianfeng's pockmarked face broke into a smile, and he said in English with a southern accent: "They are soldiers of the Union Army, not your black slaves!" He deliberately raised his voice, "After this war, the brave warriors among them will become respectable people in America!"

The crowd erupted in commotion. James Lane, an abolitionist, suddenly squeezed to the front row, his goatee shaking with anger: "Freedom is a gift from God, how can it be bought with blood?"

"Reverend Lane is right!" Samuel Curtis, a slaveholder, actually thought that the abolitionist's words made sense. "Niggers should stay on plantations or charity schools, and only white people can join the army and fight!"

Zeng Ke suddenly took a step forward, and the "Pure White Flag" badge on his chest almost poked Curtis' nose: "According to federal law, I am now a legal citizen, and I am white." He grinned and pointed at the woman next to him and said, "This woman who wandered from Ireland to America is now my maid. I paid to hire her!"

Hearing this, Price's fist clenched and General Lyon put his hand on the holster. The soldiers of the "Black Gun Brigade" following behind Zeng Ke also held the Minier gun in their hands.

Seeing this, O'Hara tried to smooth things over: "Gentlemen, the black army is here to help us fight the Yankees."

"Help?" Quinterill interrupted sharply, "I think you're here to grab land! The San Francisco Ordinance says that all land west of 100 degrees west longitude can be exchanged for points - then who owns the fertile land along the Missouri River?"

Xianfeng smiled and said, "I am the winner!"

That night, at the long oak table in the basement of the St. Louis State Government, a kerosene lamp cast a shadow on the yellowed map of Missouri. William Quinterill, the leader of the Missouri slave militia, pointed a dagger at the Kansas border: "If Zhao Si's nigger army is not eliminated, our cotton and wheat will sooner or later belong to the niggers!"

"My people have learned that something happened in Colorado." Missouri Governor Claiborne Jackson threw out a blood-stained letter. "Governor Evans has an urgent report that the Indian barbarians have joined forces with a group of Mongols who came from nowhere to besiege Denver. They say they want to establish some kind of 'Eight Banners of the Grassland'."

Abolitionist Reverend Ryan actually laughed out loud: "Mongols? These yellow-skinned bastards really think America is the prairie of Asia!"

"That's perfect!" General Lyon, an abolitionist, tapped his knuckles on the edge of the table. "Let Zhao Si fight the red-skinned barbarians. We'll cut off their food supply and force the black army to starve to death in the Rocky Mountains." Curtis twirled his beard and pondered, "Every white person in Kansas has a gun, and so do white people in Missouri. If our two states join forces, we can mobilize 30,000 to 40,000 militiamen. It's just that the Yankees in Illinois have always been eyeing Missouri."

"Yankees?" Quinterill smiled sinisterly. "Lincoln hates the Nigger Army more than he hates us. If we really want to fight, maybe we can borrow troops from the Northern Army."

The candlelight flickered suddenly, and the iron door of the basement creaked open. Hampton III, wrapped in a mink coat, followed Sterling Price, a large slave owner from Missouri, and rushed in, with the silver spikes on his riding boots jingling: "Gentlemen, don't forget that Zhao Si has 20,000 guns in his hands."

William Quinterill stood up suddenly and looked at Hampton with sharp eyes: "Mr. Hampton, you are the number one plantation owner in South Carolina!"

"I still have a whole brigade of slave soldiers." Hampton took off his white gloves, revealing a hand full of gold rings, "but I want another three brigades of slave soldiers!"

A room full of abolitionists and slaveholders looked at him, the slave-owning warlord.

Hampton III shrugged and said, "Slave soldiers are also slaves, and I want to be the king of Colorado!"

In the military tent, Xianfeng was reading the St. Louis Times by lantern. The front page was "The Black Eight Banners Threat". Sushun ducked into the tent and said, "Master, Evans's letter for help has arrived."

"Read it." Xianfeng took a sip of absinthe.

".The Mongolian cavalry burned down three railway bridges, and Hongyun Khan threatened to sacrifice white people's scalps to the gods." Sushun's voice became lower and lower.

Xianfeng suddenly laughed: "Amur, this fake lama, is quite amazing. He actually taught the Indians how to herd horses and sheep!"

Sushun did not seem to understand the meaning of "teaching Indians to herd horses and sheep" and did not know how to respond for a moment. Xianfeng smiled and explained, "In fact, the Indians in the Midwest of the United States are good at fighting, and there are still many of them, still hundreds of thousands to millions, but their production is too backward, they are not good at farming, and they can't herd, they can only chase buffaloes everywhere. Hehe, you can't support a large tribe of tens of thousands of tents by chasing buffaloes. If the Indians learn to herd sheep and cattle, they can gather a large group of 100,000 or 200,000 people!"

He grabbed the map and drew a circle around Denver with his fingernail. "Tell Amur to prepare 200,000 rounds of ammunition and enough food for my 20,000 troops for half a year."

Lin Shu said anxiously: "Master, those people in Missouri will definitely cut off our retreat!"

"Good decision!" Xianfeng's pockmarked face shone in the light. "If we don't have a way out, how can we be 'forced' to stay in Colorado and become local tyrants?" He turned to Zeng Ke, "Tomorrow morning, go to the abolitionist newspaper and tell them that we want to distribute land to Missouri blacks who have served in the army and made contributions according to the San Francisco Ordinance."

Zeng Ke grinned knowingly: "Those red-necked landowners will definitely go crazy!"

Thirty miles outside Denver, Amur's white horse stood on a hill. Shu Tonga rode over, with the heads of white cavalrymen tied to each side of the saddle: "Master, Evans' patrol has been wiped out!"

"Send a team of Indian spies to tell the master," Amur turned the prayer wheel, and the prayer flags fluttered like flags in the night wind, "to tell them that the eight Indian banners have surrounded Denver and the stage has been set up."

At the foot of the mountain, three hundred Cheyenne warriors were practicing thrusts with captured rifles—the bayonets were engraved with the inscription "Jiangnan Manufacturing Bureau." Cheng Bao led the Comanche tribe's envoys forward, and on the parchment scroll was a secret note from Hong Daquan: "The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom's munitions have arrived in San Francisco. Send someone to California to get them immediately."

Amur looked towards the gradually whitening sky in the east and murmured, "When the master enters Colorado, the Legend of the King of Pingxi will begin."

The St. Louis newspaper printed an extra edition overnight: "The Black Flag Army forcibly seized Missouri land!" The slaveholding plantation owners and the abolitionist free farmers were crowded in the same tavern, cursing. At the bar, Quinterill and Price clinked glasses of whiskey.

"Damn it," the slavery leader laughed bitterly, "I actually became a comrade-in-arms with the abolitionists."

"Because we all dislike black people, and yellow monkeys!" Quinterill shook his glass, "This time we must hang Zhao Si, the yellow-skinned fake white man." He suddenly lowered his voice, "I heard that Lincoln secretly sent an envoy?"

Price squinted his eyes. The Mississippi River outside the window was as dark as ink. On the other side of the river, on the land of Illinois, the lights of the Union sentry tower flickered.
(End of this chapter)