Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 122 Trial? No need, just hang them all on streetlights.

Matteo, the leader of the Latin district, and Gis, the leader of the Dutch district, are faithfully carrying out Lawson's order to close the net.

"Come on!"

Matteo shot and killed a Mexican man who was trying to desert, and roared at the rest of the men: "Those Irish idiots have already stormed into the banking district. If we don't go now, we won't even get a taste of the soup!"

"The warriors of the Netherlands!"

On another street, Gis was stirring things up: "The golden women are all up ahead, kill them, and San Francisco will be ours for the fuck!"

The two of them acted like the most dutiful sheepdogs, driving thousands of rioters out of their hiding places.

They drove them to the slaughterhouse that Chief Aoyama and his 180 new recruits had already prepared.

The loyalists of the Chongtu Gang, like a group of efficient butchers, followed behind the sheepdogs, responsible for cleaning up the battlefield.

Those who surrendered, as well as the rioters who were maimed, were all tied up and awaited unified processing.

The gunfire gradually subsided.

The silence at this moment was even more chilling than the three days of indiscriminate shooting that had followed.

San Francisco residents, hidden in various locations, listened intently.

Their nerves, which had been steeped in fear for seventy-two hours, keenly picked up on this fatal change.

The previous gunfire was chaotic and intermittent, it could be described as random shooting.

That was Irish, Mexican, and Dutch people having a blast with cheap revolvers and old-fashioned shotguns.

The gunfire now is rhythmic and efficient, with every shot hitting its mark.

"Are you a police officer?"

A tailor hiding behind the curtains finally saw hope.

"My God, they're fighting back!"

The situation on the streets has completely reversed.

The thugs who set fire to houses and dragged women away are now fleeing in panic through the streets.

In the black rain, the masked assassins of the Chongtu Gang advanced like ghosts.

They didn't waste any words, shooting one thief after another, picking off the thugs who still tried to resist.

Behind them were 180 members of the Green Mountain Society.

"All citizens, stay home and do not go out!"

"I am your new director, Aoyama. We are eliminating the pests in this city. Repeat, stay at home and lock your doors and windows!"

"Who is Qingshan? Never heard of him. When did the bureau chief change?"

"Whoever it is, we're saved! We're saved!"

Inside the main hall of the Green Mountain Society in Chinatown.

Barkley's face was almost pressed against the window, his gaze greedily fixed on the dark force outside that was reaping the thugs.

I wish I had such a great team of my own.

"Senator, did you hear that? He succeeded! He really is cleaning up the city!"

Crestwood sat upright in the armchair, his face expressionless.

"Barkley."

He slowly said, "You're right."

"This is an opportunity, a tremendous opportunity."

"This city has just experienced a catastrophe. It needs heroes, it needs a powerful voice to tell it that order has returned."

"Are you saying that the Chinese man was just a tool for us, a useful knife?"

Crestwood walked over to Barkley and patted him on the shoulder: “That’s right, but the hand holding the knife must be ours. Barkley, this is a once-in-a-lifetime political opportunity. Now come with me. The people of San Francisco need to see their leaders and stand with them.”

"But there's still a war going on outside!"

Barkley instinctively shrank his neck.

"Idiot! The war is almost over, we're safe to go out now, and we're the most valuable ones! You piece of trash, do you want that yellow-skinned monkey to steal all the limelight?!"

Barkley was startled by the scolding, but quickly recovered.

That's right, this is the best time to boost political achievements.

"You're right, Senator, we absolutely must take the lead in all of this!"

The other councilors and officials in the hall were all shrewd individuals, and seeing that Crestwood and Barkley were about to rush out and reap the benefits, they couldn't sit still any longer.

"Senator, wait for us! We'll go with you!"

"Yes, we must show the citizens the government's determination!"

A group of impeccably dressed gentlemen, with their bow ties straightened and top hats put back on, looked as if they were the generals who had just commanded this victory.

Samuel Black was squeezed to the back of the crowd, and Penny Black stood beside him, quietly taking his hand.

"Dear, you..."

"He'll do it!"

Samuel whispered, "He promised me this was the best opportunity. That old bastard Crestwood, he rushed out himself, he's asking for it!"

Penny's heart pounded, and she instinctively looked upstairs at the room that belonged to Aoyama.

The events of last night flooded her mind again, sending a tingling sensation through her body.

"Samuel."

Penny also lowered her voice: "We'll stay here and not go anywhere. No matter what happens, we won't make a sound."

The mayor nodded excitedly; this time, his wife's idea unexpectedly coincided with his own.

The rain has lessened considerably.

Crestwood and Barkley walked out of Chinatown, surrounded by a group of members of parliament and officials.

They were like a group of proud roosters, stepping back into their territory.

"Citizens, don't be afraid!"

Crestwood's voice boomed: "I am Crestwood, your senator. Look, order is being restored. Under my command, these thugs, uh, these thugs..."

He suddenly choked up, unable to utter the rest of his words.

Because at that moment, Qingshan was riding a tall black horse, coldly watching him.

That horse was Barkley's most beloved mount, but now it meekly submits to this Chinese man.

Aoyama was covered in splattered blood and brain matter, making him look like a demon who had just crawled out of hell.

"Under the heroic efforts of Director Qingshan, they will soon be wiped out!"

Crestwood managed to salvage the situation.

He began giving speeches to those closed windows, reassuring them, promising tax cuts, and frantically embellishing his own image.

Aoyama's eyes were filled with sarcasm, and he immediately turned his horse around, not bothering to pay any attention to him.

The cleaning is still ongoing.

The henchmen of the Chongtong Gang and the newly appointed police officers drove thousands of rioters out of their hiding places and forced them toward the largest square in the city center, working in blocks by block.

The space for these rioters to operate is being rapidly compressed.

Declan, Matteo, and Geese finally met at a three-way intersection.

Behind them were nearly a thousand exhausted thugs.

"FUCK!"

Declan kicked over a trash can blocking his way: "There are too many cops! Where the hell did they come from?!"

"It's that Chinatown!"

Matteo wiped away the blood: "Those yellow-skinned monkeys, they've all fucking picked up guns!"

"What should we do, Declan?"

"We're surrounded. We either fight our way out or we die here!"

"Kill out?"

Declan looked around.

The Irishmen behind him were all ashen-faced, their guns either out of bullets or lost during their escape.

Their only advantage right now is their large numbers.

"Do not."

Declan forced a smile: "Brothers, listen to me!"

"There are many of us. That new, yellow-skinned bureau chief won't dare to do anything to us. The law doesn't punish the masses, you understand?"

"But they're still killing people!"

A young thug trembled.

"That's because we're resisting!"

Declan roared, "Listen to me, throw the fuck out your weapons and let's surrender!"

"surrender?"

The crowd erupted.

"Are you fucking insane, Declan? Surrender and they'll hang us!"

"Shut your stinky mouth!"

Declan pulled out his revolver and pointed it at the yelling guy: "If you rush out now, you'll be riddled with bullets in three seconds. Surrender! We're prisoners of war. If they want to try us, they'll have to go through legal procedures!" "Including those captured brothers, the trials of over two thousand of us could go on until next year! By then, we'll have a chance to escape. The California government won't dare hang two thousand Irish, Mexicans, and Dutchmen all at once; that would start a war!"

Matteo and Gis were also in their respective camps, shouting similar phrases in Spanish and Dutch.

"Declan is right. We outnumber them, we are civilians, they can't slaughter us!"

"Unity, unity!"

Matteo raised his arms and shouted, "Even though we've surrendered, as long as we all stand together, they won't dare touch us!"

This absurd logic, under extreme fear, became the only lifeline.

The rioters were persuaded.

Soon, one crude weapon after another was thrown on the ground.

"Don't shoot, we surrender!"

Nearly two thousand rioters, with their hands raised, surged toward the square in a chaotic manner, like a moving forest.

Declan, Matteo, and Geese mingled at the very back of the crowd.

When they reached a dark corner, the three of them exchanged a glance and simultaneously slipped into a dark passage.

Immediately afterwards, fifty Irish, Latino, and Dutch assassins also quietly broke away from the ranks.

The sheep had been driven right up to the butcher.

The sheepdog has to leave the stage.

……

on the square.

Crestwood and Barkley looked at the surrendered mob with smug satisfaction.

Most of them were already bound hand and foot, and unable to resist.

"Ha ha, look at them, Barkley!"

Crestwood, mounted on his horse, pointed his whip at the thugs: "Look at these European scum, San Francisco maggots! Weren't you so cocky the other day?!"

Barkley, swaggering and yelling, "You bunch of bastards are finished! You think surrendering will make things alright? Let me tell you, none of you will escape. The gallows, all the streetlights, will be filled with your corpses!"

Among the prisoners was a thug who looked extremely thin.

He kept his head down, his whole body trembling violently.

Crestwood noticed him too; the kid looked like an easy target.

He's been holding back his anger for far too long and desperately needs to vent it.

But while other thugs might be in danger if he slapped them, this skinny guy certainly wouldn't be.

He rode up on his horse from a high vantage point, raising his whip to strike.

Unexpectedly, the short man suddenly sprang up.

They weren't tied up?

He wasn't trembling at all; he was gathering his strength.

He moved with such speed that he didn't seem like a thug who hadn't eaten for days. He grabbed Crestwood's ankle and pulled him down with superhuman strength.

"what!"

Crestwood was forcibly pulled off his horse and rolled around in a heap with the skinny thug.

"Protect the senator!"

Barkley was so frightened that he kept yelling, but he himself was so scared that he turned his horse around and ran several meters away.

"boom!"

Qingshan shot the skinny thug in the back.

The surrounding police officers immediately rushed over and pulled the already lifeless body off the senator.

Everything finally quieted down.

In the square, nearly two thousand prisoners, one hundred and eighty new police officers, and the surviving councilors all held their breath.

Crestwood lay motionless in the mud.

"A senator?"

Barkley approached shakily, asking, "Are you alright?"

Crestwood's eyes widened, as if he wanted to say something, but could only let out a series of breathless sounds.

He raised his hand and pointed to his neck.

Only then did people realize that a short knife, still covered in feces, had pierced Crestwood's neck.

Qingshan dismounted, walked to the thug's corpse, and shot the assassin in the head, splattering red and white matter everywhere.

He turned around to face the crowd, including Jerry and Peter who were hiding behind cover and filming it all.

A thunderous rage appeared on a face stained with blood.

"These thugs attacked San Francisco, burning, looting, and killing innocent civilians!"

"Now, right in front of us, they have attacked and murdered Senator Crestwood of the United States!"

"His crimes are heinous and unforgivable!"

He raised his revolver and pointed it at the sky.

Qingshan raised his pistol high and shouted angrily, "I declare that all these thugs will be hanged from the streetlights!"

There was no trial, no legal process.

They have to die.

This is completely different from what their leader said before.

The rioters were furious when they heard the news.

"We've all surrendered, why are you still killing us!"

"You can't do this!"

"Liars, you bunch of faithless bastards!"

The curses shook the earth, but what responded to them was the ruthless action of the 180 newly appointed police officers.

"Do it!"

Aoyama coldly gave the order.

An Irish man who tried to resist was struck hard on the temple with the butt of a gun by a Chinese police officer.

The burly man collapsed to the ground.

Immediately afterwards, the officers worked in pairs, like tigers entering a flock of sheep.

"No, I surrender, I surrender!"

A Mexican man knelt on the ground, tears streaming down his face.

An officer walked up to him expressionlessly, grabbed his hair, and another officer put a thick rope around his neck.

The other end of the rope was swung over the crossbar of the gas streetlight.

"Please, I still have family!"

The officers ignored his cries and pulled him down with a sudden jerk.

"Uh, hehe!"

The Mexican was lifted into the air, his feet off the ground, and he kicked wildly at the air.

His face quickly turned a deep liver color, his eyes bulged out, and his tongue stuck out uncontrollably.

Like a fish just pulled ashore, he struggled futilely for several seconds before finally tilting his head to the side and falling silent.

"You bunch of yellow-skinned devils, you're going to hell!"

A Dutch mob witnessed all of this and roared like a madman: "You, uhh!"

A gun butt was shoved directly into his mouth.

His mouth was filled with teeth mixed with blood and foam as he was punched out.

The officer then struck him on the back of the head with the butt of his rifle.

The thugs fainted.

"Hang it up!"

The unconscious thugs were easily hung on a street lamp, like a sack of flour.

These 180 police officers demonstrated exceptional efficiency.

They remained silent, with a clear division of labor.

If one streetlight isn't enough, hang two or three.

Starting from the square, along the widest avenue leading to the city hall, corpses were continuously hoisted up.

Irish, Mexican, Dutch...

Their bodies swayed gently in the damp, cold morning breeze.

Black rainwater washed over their bluish-purple faces.

Flocks of crows flew down from the burned-out buildings, landed on the crossbars, and eagerly pecked at the feast.

Nearly two thousand corpses were hanging all over the street.

(End of this chapter)