The Han culture is spreading strongly in Southeast Asia

Chapter 433: Self-cultivation of the New Generation of Chinese Colonists
Li Baohua kicked open a broken door that was about to fall down, and heard screams of fear from inside. He rushed in with a bayonet and saw seven people in the room, two of them men.

The older one held a stone spear, while the younger one, still a minor, held a dagger made of animal bones.

The remaining five, one big and four small, were all women. The women were probably thirty-four or thirty-five years old, and the girls ranged from twelve or thirteen to seventeen or eighteen years old.

Seeing Li Baohua and others rushing in, the two men shouted loudly, but their hands holding the weapons were shaking constantly and they looked very scared.

The deliberate loud roar was solely for the purpose of scaring Li Baohua and the others away.

Li Baohua hesitated for a moment, looking at the men and women in the house who were frightened and collapsed, especially the little boy who was about the same age as his nephew, he was a little hesitant to do it.

"Fuck you, you dare to point a gun at me!" The bandit scholar Chen Xinghua didn't care about that. He cursed loudly with a fierce look in his eyes, rushed forward with his bayonet, knocked the old man's stone spear off the target, and then kicked the younger one over.

Afterwards, several comrades who followed in rushed forward and stabbed the old man to death in the house in front of everyone.

As for the younger one, Chen Xinghua raised his foot and stomped hard on his chest.

There was a sound of broken ribs, and the little one was like a deflated ball, bleeding from the corner of his mouth, and curled up into a ball, and soon he was silent.

The four women let out earth-shattering screams, but no one tolerated them. Chen Xinghua slapped them hard in the face, leaving them with bruises and swollen faces, unable to cry.

Finally, several people took out the ropes they had with them, quickly tied the four women's hands, and led them out like sheep.

Even if the bodies of their loved ones were still on the ground, they would be beaten immediately if they dared to cry.

"Catch more later, don't be so shy. Old Sun has a lame leg and if you don't find him some women to take care of him, how will he live in the future?
If these women are not beaten to scare them, who will serve me in the future, or will I serve them?
We must beat them, beat them until their livers tremble at the thought of it, beat them until they are more obedient than dogs, so that if you and I become lame or even lose our limbs in the future, we will have such docile indigenous women to take care of us for the rest of our lives."

"Yes, not to mention that it was their ancestors who killed us Han people first. Even for our own sake, we can't be lenient!"

A vassal from the Earldom of Jeddah also noticed Li Baohua's soft-heartedness and kindly said to him, "On the battlefield, you must not be too soft-hearted!"

Li Baohua took a deep breath and nodded in agreement.

By the time they had kicked down the broken doors of several small shabby houses, seven or eight women were tied up behind them.

A native rushed towards Li Baohua crying and holding a stick. Li Baohua did not hesitate at all. He ran over and stabbed the native through with a knife. By the way, he also took away a small gold ornament from the native's waist.

A woman opened her mouth to cry, and Li Baohua slapped her in the face, causing her nose to bleed.

In just one hour, he had mastered all of this.

Shi Yaer stood at the highest point, simply lit three incense sticks and stuck them into the soil in front of him, "My ancestors from forty years ago, rest in peace.

Especially those fellow villagers and ancestors who were implicated. My ancestor Shi Gongban Rang was not careful in his planning and harmed everyone. Today, his grandson has come to apologize to you. After our ancestors enjoy this blood sacrifice, they will be reincarnated.

Master Guangzhong is here to take care of us Chinese in Southeast Asia. No matter where you are reincarnated, you will have a good life."

Ye Xiancai, a man from Kecheng, also came along. Although he was in a wheelchair, he looked very imposing.

In addition to the power of the title he has developed over the years, his son Ye Mingyue, who is only seventeen or eighteen years old, has made great contributions in the Northern Expedition as a volunteer. He is obviously a rising star.

In this era, having a good son, especially for a vassal, is a guarantee of greater glory and prosperity for the family in the future.

"The future of a nation lies in the bellies of young girls. Taking away a woman of childbearing age will reduce the enemy's strength by three to four people in ten years, while we will gain three to four people.

If we assume there are 15,000 women here, then the difference between them in ten years would be at least 100,000."

Ye Xiancai said with a smile that they, the vassal ministers, had begun to adapt to the Xia Jun Yi people's operation before the Han Dynasty, and they deeply understood the importance of young women to a nation.

"Captain Shi, please leave a thousand women for us in Kecheng!"

Hearing that Ye Xiancai wanted so much, Shi Yaer quickly came out of his grief for his ancestors.

"Lord Kecheng, why do you need so many? There are only three or four hundred Han people in your territory, and most of them are married."

Ye Xiancai chuckled, "My son has already negotiated with the Ruan family in Yangzhou. He will bring 500 canal workers here by the end of this year. I'll prepare two wives for each of them. I'll see who wants to leave after they come."

Shi Yaer couldn't help but give a thumbs up. He had read the internal information of the Jinyiwei. There were countless bachelors in Huai'an, Xuzhou and Sizhou in northern Jiangsu. Many poor men couldn't even get married in their hometowns.

Ye Xiancai prepared two for each person. Although they were local girls, they were enough to capture these bachelors.

On this side, Ye Xiancai was looking for wives for his future samurai and soldiers, and on the other side, Li Baohua was handing over the spoils captured by his team to the military officer of the central army.

The experienced officer of the central army was an old samurai from Tucheng (Tuwa) who was extremely familiar with all of this.

His two assistants, one was a Japanese from Hoi An and the other was a Han Chinese from Annam from Qui Nhon, both of whom had plenty of experience in dealing with the natives.

These people first sorted the captured local women according to age, physical condition, childbearing experience, and finally appearance. The higher the score, the more valuable it is.

Those with the highest scores are naturally those of appropriate age, strong bodies, and with childbearing experience. Such people can raise puppies when they are bought, and if they cannot, they can also be good labor force.

As for appearance, that was the last thing to be considered; as long as there was no missing nose or eyes, it was fine. As for the pale, young and thin appearance that became popular in later generations, it was the least valuable and was mostly used as a bonus.

Li Baohua squeezed for a long time before the officer completed the registration. After getting the receipt, he hurried to meet up with his comrades, still complaining.

"This dog is really experienced. He even opened his mouth to look at his teeth. He's buying livestock!"

. . . .

Outside Subang, the battle was nearing its end, but the Yogyakarta army still rushed out of the canyon.

After all, they were several thousand strong, while the 3rd and 5th companies of the Shinden Guards only had less than 300 men. It was impossible for them to block the valley entrance forever. Therefore, when the pressure of blocking was extremely high, it would be wise to simply let these guys out and then pursue them closely.

For the first time, the Sultan of Yogyakarta understood what powerlessness meant. He was an expert in swordsmanship, and the 300 guards around him were also masters of swordsmanship, but they had no room to display their skills at all.

Those Chinese only used three things: artillery fire, musket fire, and then bombing. If the Yogyakarta warriors did not collapse, they would do it again.

I don’t know how long I ran. Even a strong man like the Sultan of Yogyakarta felt out of breath, and the shouting and killing seemed to have stopped a lot.

The Sultan, unable to run any further and filled with rage, was the first to stop and shout, "Hold out my banner and tell the warriors to stop running."

Then, very quickly, the Sultan discovered that he was wrong.

The reason why the shouting and screaming had weakened was not because the Chinese could no longer chase them, but because the Chinese had circled back to the front and cut the fleeing Yogyakarta natives into several small encirclements that were not under the control of each other.

These Chinese were worried about not being able to find the Sultan of Yogyakarta, but he actually raised the flag himself.

Lian Song was so happy. He was the first to recognize the Yogyakarta Sultan's flag, and then he called a large number of his comrades to surround it. Everyone's eyes were shining with excitement.

The Sultan of Yogyakarta actually still has some musketeers. Although their weapons are a hodgepodge of flintlock rifles and matchlock rifles, they are still usable.

But unfortunately, what he encountered was the revived Chinese Empire.

Chen Lian personally rushed to the front line to command. Hundreds of Dayu soldiers formed relatively neat horizontal rows and continuously poured lead bullets to the opposite side.

How could Yogyakarta's rubbish firearms team withstand this kind of shooting? After a few rounds, they howled and rushed out with cold weapons.

Then it got even worse. Chen Lian personally brought in several four-pound cannons. Each cannon could hold fifty-six shotgun shells, and one shot could create a fan-shaped shell.

After the artillery bombardment, bombs exploded. The Sultan of Yogyakarta launched a charge of hundreds of people, but they could not even get close to the Chinese soldiers.

After the Japanese retreated, Chen Lian replaced the artillery shells with solid bullets and fired at the dense crowd.

Every shot fired would reduce one's health bar, and coupled with the continuous free firing of the flintlock rifle, even a god could not withstand it.

So, the Japanese retreated for less than a quarter of an hour and then rushed forward again with all their courage.

Then it was the same old routine again, shotgun shells and bombs, and the few who broke through the fire blockade would be stabbed with bayonets by groups of three.

The Sultan of Yogyakarta roared loudly, and shotgun shells rained down on him, and the number of loyal guards around him became fewer and fewer.

When he felt his vision was clear, he had already passed through the smoke produced by gunpowder, and a black cannon barrel was only twenty or thirty meters in front of him.

The artillery had just finished loading, and a gunner was about to light the fuse. Lian Song saw it clearly and quickly pushed the gunner away from behind.

"This is the Sultan of Yogyakarta, capture him alive!"

The gunner was about to lose his temper when he suddenly heard that the person in front of him was the Sultan of Yogyakarta. He quickly got up from the ground, took out the dagger he carried with him, and rushed forward shouting, ignoring even the cannon.

Lian Song secretly regretted that he had shouted too loudly and many people heard it. As a result, just as he had just fought with the Sultan of Yogyakarta, the Sultan was pinned down by seven or eight people who rushed over.

He had no choice but to put down his musket and rush forward, grabbing a thigh first to gain the right to share the credit.

The Sultan of Yogyakarta wanted to howl, but fists rained down on him, quickly knocking out all his teeth and breaking his arm.

Then he was carried by a dozen or twenty people making a lot of noise, drifting here and there like a pitiful little boat in the sea, heading towards a big flag.

. . . .

In Lower Burma, King Meng Yun of Burma looked at the city of Yangon in the distance with an extremely complicated expression.

The city was originally called Yangon. After his father Yongjiya captured it, he rebuilt the city and renamed it Yangon.

The most important thing is that when his father Yong Ji Ya was still alive, he originally planned to let Meng Yun go here to guard it.

"Your Majesty, Wu Wen has once again refused to pledge allegiance to you. It is said that he is prepared to pay a large ransom to the Siamese in exchange for their withdrawal from Rangoon and an alliance with him."

There was no trace of anger on Meng Yun's face. Instead, he couldn't help but burst out laughing, "When Wu Wen followed Xin Xinpiao in the past, I never saw him being so stupid!
Since he had to bribe the Siamese to gain control of Lower Burma, why did he betray the emperor?
Doesn't he know that his strongest armor is actually the one bestowed by the Great Emperor on Marquis Pegu?
Without this precious, hard-earned title, who would take Wu Wen seriously given his methods and family status?

When he smiled, all the Burmese generals around him laughed.

Meng Yun's trusted minister, Duan Tingdewen, looked at Meng Yun and said, "It seems the king has made his choice. Let's return to Pyin Uyen."

Meng Yun shook his head, "No, don't go to Pyeongchang to wait for the Great Emperor's angel. Since the Great Emperor's bottom line is to preserve Moulmein, then it's time for us to show our loyalty.

As soon as the enthronement is completed, we will immediately send troops to attack Rangoon and Pegu to lift the siege of Mawlamyine. If the Great Emperor permits, we can also send troops to capture Toungoo and even help the Great Emperor suppress the rebellion in Siam.

Duan Tingdewin was silent for a moment, then said cautiously in a low voice, "The current emperor is not Qianlong, who is far away in the north and has no knowledge of Southeast Asian affairs. Emperor Guangzhong grew up in Southeast Asia. I'm afraid he won't allow the emergence of a powerful Burmese kingdom."

Meng Yun was silent for a moment, as if shaking his head and nodding at the same time, and finally he said: "Let's take it one step at a time. At least we can become stronger while the Great Emperor is too busy to look south.

Since ancient times, the Miao Xiang people have never regarded Myanmar as their territory. All they want is for us to bow our heads and submit.

I think that in the future, when Emperor Guangzhong is distracted by the affairs of the north, he will understand how important an obedient Burmese king is."

Meng Yun is very confident, and the source of this confidence is the stereotype that China has given him for thousands of years.

But he had not yet expected that Mo Zibu from the future knew too well how important a hand reaching out to the Indian Ocean was.

(End of this chapter)