Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 102 You still have a weapons factory, give it to me!

after an hour.

Chinatown Central Square.

This is the only open space in Chinatown.

But at this moment, the vacant lot has also been filled in.

Thump—thump—thump—!
The drum teams from the Six Guild Halls put all their strength into banging the drums.

The shrill, noisy sound of gongs and drums echoed through every corner of Chinatown.

"Everyone out! Everyone out!"

"The elders of the six guild halls have something important to announce!"

"Get the hell out here!" Master Luo's men were yelling at the top of their lungs in the crowd.

The influence of the six major associations far surpasses that of the newly established Aoyama Association.

This is the prestige accumulated over decades.

Soon, thousands of people gathered in the square.

It was crowded and crowded.

Everyone craned their necks to look at the makeshift platform that had just been erected with wooden planks.

"what the hell?"

"Yes, all the bigwigs from the six major guild halls have come out..."

"Could it be that the White devils are going to come and exterminate people again?"

"Shh...keep your voice down! I see the Green Mountain Gang...the ones in black! Oh my god...they're here too..."

The crowd was filled with whispers and uneasy commotion.

"Quiet!"

Uncle Yu, leaning on his cane and supported by two members of the guild hall, walked up to the high platform.

The whole place fell silent for a moment.

Uncle Yu is the pillar of Chinatown; everyone holds their breath when he appears.

"Dear fellow villagers and elders."

Uncle Yu's voice was full of energy.

He
Why did we leave our homes and cross oceans to come to this gold mine?

There was dead silence in the audience.

"It's to survive!"

"It's so that our wives and children back in our hometown can survive!"

"But look at the present!"

He slammed his cane against the wooden platform!
Do we live like human beings?

"More than 40,000 of us are crammed into this pigsty that the white devils have given us!"

"What are we eating? Rotten vegetable leaves that they don't want!"

"What are we doing? The kind of backbreaking work they refuse to do!"

"We can't find work! We can't afford to eat! We're sick and we can only wait to die!"

Every word Uncle Yu said was like a heavy hammer blow to the hearts of every Chinese worker in the audience!

The crowd began to stir.

Many people lowered their heads, their eyes reddening.

Their hearts, long since worn down by life, were pierced with pain!

"I can't go on living, I really can't go on living..."

"I haven't received any work for half a month..."

"If my wife doesn't send money home next month, she's going to be sold..."

Uncle Yu had been waiting for this moment.

He sensed that the atmosphere was just right.

He took a deep breath and roared with all his might:
"Folks!"

"We can't just wait to die like this!"

We need to find a way to survive!

"So, we old bones from the six major guilds risked our lives to find it for you!"

"Now, we've found it!"

"We found out that there is an organization for Chinese people in Northern California called the Chinese Youth Association!"

"They can arrange jobs for all of us!"

"Today! We went through a lot of trouble to finally get Director Wang from the Chinese Youth Association to come!"

"Everyone... welcome!"

Amidst thousands of gazes, a mixture of shock, disbelief, and a flicker of hope.

Wang Dafu made his entrance with a friendly expression.

"These are the people from the Chinese Youth Association?"

"He doesn't look like a bad person; he seems more like a kind person from our hometown..."

As soon as Wang Dafu stepped onto the stage, without uttering a single wasted word, he first bowed deeply to the audience.

"Fellow villagers! Brothers and sisters!"

"I, Wang Dafu, greet you all!"

This one move instantly won everyone's favor.

"Everyone, don't be nervous!"

Wang Dafu flashed his signature honest smile.

"I'm sure everyone is having some doubts as I stand here."

"Is it some damned pimp again, making up lies to lure us to the mines in Nevada to be treated like pigs?"

This crude yet hilarious joke ignited the entire audience.

The audience laughed.

They laughed because many of them had actually been fooled in this way.

As a joke, their vigilance towards Wang Dafu decreased by more than half!
"Don't worry, everyone!"

Wang Dafu laughed along, "If it were really that kind of business that would ruin the family line, these six uncles below would be the first to break my legs! They wouldn't be letting me stand here!"

"That's right!" Master Luo shouted from the audience, raising his arms like a shill: "Manager Wang is one of us!"

The laughter stopped.

Everyone's eyes turned fervent.

"Brothers!" Wang Dafu's smile vanished, and his expression turned serious.

"I won't mince words."

"I have a job in Northern California."

"Countless jobs!"

"The farms, orchards, and logging camps there are all short of workers!"

"Go there, food and lodging provided! We'll stay in wooden houses, not these damn pigeonholes!"

"and……"

He held out a finger.

"One Dollar a Day!"

The whole place was dead silent.

At that moment, thousands of people seemed to stop breathing.

If the laughter just now was a sign of relaxation, then the silence now is a sign of shock.

So shocking that I couldn't believe it, so disbelieving that it seemed absurd.

One day, a piece of eagle soaring?
Here, they're considered lucky if they can save three dollars a month!
How can this be?

"fraud……"

"It's definitely a scam..."

"There's no such thing as a free lunch, falling on the heads of pigs like us..."

The hope that had just been ignited in the crowd was about to be extinguished in an instant by this deep-rooted doubt.

Wang Dafu saw it.

"People don't believe me, right?"

No one in the audience dared to respond.

"You're right if you don't believe me!" Wang Dafu slapped his chest.

"In this world, if anyone dares to pat their chest and say, 'I believe you,' they're a fucking idiot!"

"So!" Wang Dafu spread his hands: "I'm not here today to force you to believe me!"

"I'm here to urge everyone to go and see for yourselves and understand!"

"We do not engage in forced sales!"

“Let’s select thirty representatives that you can trust from among these thousands of brothers!”

"If you trust Li the blacksmith next door, then choose him!"

"If you trust Chef Wang, then choose him!"

"Select them! These thirty people will follow me, Wang Dafu, today!"

"I'll take them to Northern California!"

"Let them see for themselves! See the farms! See the new houses!"

"Let them listen with their own ears! Go ask the brothers who are already working there, is it really true that they get one Eagle Point a day?"

“And then!” Wang Dafu’s voice reached its peak.

"I'll send them back exactly as they were!"

"Let them tell you for themselves! Whether what I, Wang Dafu, said is the truth or fucking bullshit!"

"By the time!"

"Are you all willing to stay in this pigsty and wait to die...?"

"I'd still rather follow me, Wang Dafu, to Northern California to make big money and live like a human being!"

"It's entirely voluntary!"

The crowd exploded!

"My God, you get to choose who goes to see it?"

"You'll return it after you've finished looking at it?"

"This doesn't look fake!"

"If it were fake, would he dare to do this?"

All doubts were shattered at that moment by this irresistible offer.

"Fellow villagers!"

At the crucial moment, Uncle Yu took to the stage again.

"Manager Wang, Gao Yi!"

“Even our six major associations don’t trust him!” he shouted.

"so!"

"Of these thirty representatives, each of our six families will send an uncle or elder to accompany them personally!"

"We'll go check for you!"

"We also promise to bring these thirty brothers back safely!"

This was the last straw.

Even the gentlemen of the six major guild halls personally escorted the vehicle?
What else could be fake?

"I choose dried tangerine peel! He's the most honest one!"

"I choose Rotten Tooth Zhang! He's the quickest-witted one; I can't fool him!"

"And there's One-Eyed Liu!"

They no longer doubted and vied to elect the person they trusted most.

After half an hour.

Thirty representatives, each with a different expression—a mixture of tension, excitement, and bewilderment—were selected.

There was a blacksmith, a cook, a laundry worker, and an old accountant.

They are the most ordinary yet most trusted backbone members in this "sardine can".

"it is good!"

Wang Dafu looked at the delegation with satisfaction.

He turned to Uncle Yu and Master Luo and bowed again, saying, "Uncles, Wang Dafu is waiting for you at the dock."

"Manager Wang, you're too kind!" Uncle Yu and the others were also deeply moved.

They seemed to have already envisioned a brand new future, with business spanning all of Northern California!
Wang Dafu then discussed the departure details with the uncles and elders of the six guild halls.

Finally, under the watchful, expectant, and eager gazes of thousands, Wang Dafu led the uncles and elders of the six guild halls, along with the thirty representatives of the Chinese laborers who carried the hopes of forty thousand people, to the dock in a grand procession. They were to board a ship and head towards that promised land, Northern California.

Tongfu Tea House
Qingshan stood by the second-floor window.

A cold, shepherd-like smile curled at the corner of his lips.

All beginnings are hard.

All you need are these thirty "samples" to see that land in Northern California with your own eyes.

Seeing those Chinese laborers under the jurisdiction of the Chinese Youth Association, receiving double wages, living in new wooden houses, and even daring to stand tall and proud in front of the white devils.

It's hard for them not to be moved; they might even go crazy.

Lawson doesn't need to force him; he just needs to demonstrate.

Show a better cage.

A golden cage.

Once this "Road of Hope" is established, he can pump out the remaining valuable labor force from Chinatown to Northern California like a pump.

This is a sustainable, long-term supply chain.

In this way, the overcrowding problem of Chinatown, which resembles a sardine can, will be perfectly solved.

And after the problem is solved...

Lawson slowly exhaled a smoke ring.

This is not a solution.

This is just clearing.

Only after clearing out the sardines could he make room.

Make room for his real plan.

San Francisco.

In 1878, San Francisco was the economic heart of California and a golden bridgehead for the United States to reach the Pacific Ocean.

Chinatown, the very heart of the heart, this prime location that was disliked by white people yet "unopened"...

In Lawson's blueprint, it must not look like this muddy mess it is now.

Lawson narrowed his eyes.

In his mind, the image of that sinful city that would rise from the desert in later generations, built with gold and desire, came to mind.

Las Vegas.

And the land beneath his feet...

"Ha ha……"

Lawson chuckled softly.

This place will become an even more lucrative goldmine than that desert gambling city.

There will be no more pigeon coops here.

The most luxurious casino and the most upscale private club in the United States will be built here.

This place will become a money pit for all the wealthy, politicians, and bankers in the United States and even the world to spend lavishly.

This is what this prime location should look like.

As for the owners of those large and small "land deeds" and "properties" that are now occupying this land?
Lawson's network of assassins had already thoroughly investigated their backgrounds.

Among them were greedy white officials, cunning Jewish moneylenders, and even a few wealthy Japanese businessmen.

Lawson's net has been cast.

They are just waiting for the right moment to close the net.

"but……"

Lawson paused his thoughts for a moment.

Another message came from the assassin network.

Those underground workers outside of San Francisco's Chinatown seem to have finally reached some kind of consensus.

They are planning to unite and take action against the new Chinatown.

"Ah……"

Lawson's face was expressionless in the smoke.

He had anticipated all of this.

In San Francisco, fighting for territory is more common than eating.

Chinatown has always been a tempting target for various forces.

In the past, there were three local bullies here: Master Long, Jing Hai, and He Wei. Although they were old, they were tough enough to fight each other.

This check and balance prevents those outside stray dogs from easily attacking.

And now, all three local dogs have disappeared overnight.

This piece of fat meat is now undefended.

The vultures that had been waiting nearby, drawn by the smell of rotting flesh, were naturally eager to pounce and share the meal.

Lawson flicked the ash from his cigarette with his fingers.

He soon obtained several other documents.

Map showing the distribution of San Francisco's underground forces.

He turned to the first page.

"Finnigan Quinn O'Malley".

"Irish. The uncrowned king of North Beach and Sydney, the leader of the Celtic Fist. Controlling bootlegging, dock extortion, and the population."

Lawson's gaze lingered on the word "population." This referred to the poor Irish girls who had just disembarked.

"The Dutchman Van Kerk"

"The true mastermind of the Barbary Coast, the family godfather. He runs the most upscale entertainment in all of San Francisco—casinos, brothels, and even more expensive drugs."

“Damn it…” Lawson cursed under his breath, “a bunch of bastards.”

He turned to the third page.

"Soli Ross".

"Jew. An arms dealer in the Mission District. On the surface, he's a respected hardware merchant. In reality, his Ross Precision Machinery is the largest underground arms factory in Northern California."

Lawson raised an eyebrow.

"A bunch of worthless bastards."

In fact, even if they didn't come, according to Lawson's planned development strategy, he would still have to clean up this group of scum who were entrenched in San Francisco.

How could his den of iniquity, his Babylon, allow another swarm of flies to buzz around it?
"These idiots..."

Lawson stood up and walked to the huge map.

"At least you helped me move the time forward."

His finger pointed to the outskirts of Chinatown on the map.

Mission Area... North Beach... Barbary Coast...

"Then we don't need to wait for you to come to Chinatown."

A bloodthirsty glint flashed in Lawson's eyes.

"I'll go find you first."

It's time for a new underground force to emerge in San Francisco.

Lawson knew very well that a healthy underground ecosystem could not be too monolithic.

If the Green Mountain Society, this yellow-skinned dragon, were to devour everything, it would become the common enemy of all white people.

This is not in Lawson's interest.

and so……

In San Francisco, besides the Green Hills Society, there must be another underground force of white people.

Lawson had been preparing for this plan for some time.

"A weighty responsibility"

Lawson whispered the name.

This is a gang formed by English and Russian suicide bombers.

A ghostly gang.

To avoid alerting the enemy, they never gathered together.

They were the largest and most ruthless gang under Lawson's command, totaling three hundred men.

Their operating methods are completely different from those of wolf packs and hyenas.

They did not have a fixed base, but were scattered across various industries in San Francisco.

They were dockworkers, barbers, bank clerks, coachmen, housekeepers in wealthy neighborhoods, and even police officers patrolling the streets.

They each have their own professions, cloaked in perfect legality, and are cogs in the machine of this city.

However, as soon as Lawson gives the order, these three hundred ghosts distributed in the city's capillaries will instantly gather, forming a terrifying force capable of tearing apart any prey!
"So……"

Lawson's gaze returned to the few sheets of data that had turned to ashes: "The first prey..."

His finger moved slowly across the map, finally stopping at the mission area.

"Soli Ross".

A hint of appreciation appeared on Lawson's face.

"The arms business is doing very well."

"Ross Precision, a small weapons company? Making and selling counterfeit goods?"

"interesting."

Lawson developed a strong interest in this Solly Ross.

"He actually has the mindset of a craftsman who strives for perfection? Even when making a replica, he wants it to be better than the original?"

“Haha…” Lawson laughed: “That’s really good.”

As the number of his assassins grows exponentially, weapons will become his biggest expense.

He can't keep robbing gun shops; that's too low-class and too conspicuous.

If he had his own weapons company, capable of continuously manufacturing sophisticated killing tools, it would be like adding wings to a tiger!
"His first target is him."

Lawson wanted more than just Solly's gun; he wanted his factory and his brain.

Night falls.

Inside a respectable Victorian-style townhouse in the Mission District, the lights were on.

"Darling, I'm leaving."

Solly Ross looked like a university professor. He kissed his wife's forehead.

"Come back soon, Solly."

His wife straightened his tie: "The children want you to take them to the park again tomorrow morning."

“Of course, of course,” Solly Ross said with a gentle smile. “I promise.”

He walked out of his house.

The moment the door closed, Solly Ross glanced at the thick fog that enveloped the entire street and muttered a curse under his breath: "Damn weather..."

A black carriage stopped in front of him.

A man as tall as a brown bear jumped down from the driver's seat.

"boss."

This is his bodyguard, Bruno.

“Let’s go, Bruno.” Solly Ross climbed into the carriage. “We’re going to be late.”

“Yes, boss.” Bruno climbed back into the reinforced driver’s seat.

The carriage started slowly.

Solly Ross sat in the windowless, dark carriage and slowly pulled a silver-plated Colt revolver from his pocket.

He checked the magazine; there were six bright yellow bullets.

He was nervous.

There's a big business deal to discuss tonight, a very big deal.

The other party is someone with considerable influence.

They were those lunatics who crossed the Canadian border.

Those damned Irish revolutionaries.

They actually wanted to buy Gatling guns from him.

This is strictly prohibited at the federal level.

The price they offered...

Solly Ross licked his dry lips.

It was too high, too high for him to refuse.

He had to go to his basement, Ross Precision's basement, in person to talk.

P.S.: Some readers have mentioned that the update was a bit late and that they were tired of waiting, so I apologize in advance.

Actually, it's not too late, it's too early. I always update at the earliest possible time every day so that my brothers can see it as soon as possible.

It was my oversight. How about we change the update time to 6 PM from now on?

I'll send you 18,000 today, and then tonight at 6 PM, I'll update another 12,000 as compensation. Thanks, brothers! If you have any monthly tickets, throw them at me!
(End of this chapter)