Nobita's Time Heist

If he were a young man in his teens or twenties, in the prime of his youth, he might very well have been swayed by Dutch's passion and, in a fit of anger, drawn his gun and joined the Van der Linde gang, embarking on a seemingly passionate but ultimately pointless path of no return.

Unfortunately, Lao He is almost sixty years old this year.

Moreover, he was already on the road.

“I don’t think I’m that important, Dutch.” Arthur shrugged. “We’re just a bunch of ghosts wandering the wilderness, nobody cares about us, that’s all.”

“You haven’t seen the essence of things, my child… They are afraid of us!” Dutch said with a pained expression. “It is because they are afraid that they want to drive us to this snow mountain. Those well-dressed, elegant civilized people are afraid that we will bring about change. They are afraid that their position will be challenged, and even more afraid that people’s will will be awakened.”

"I assure you, this day will come sooner or later... I still have a plan."

"This is a very good plan."

Saying this classic line no longer impressed his two friends.

Those plans filled with dreams and robbery now only bring Arthur and Hosea unease.

“Dutch, we finally found this place to stay… This escape has exhausted everyone; we simply don’t have the energy for anything more. For us now, the fact that everyone is still alive and has a place where we don’t lack food or the cold is already a blessing from God,” Hosea said in a deep voice. “I don’t think we have any reason to act recklessly under these circumstances!”

……

After a moment of silence, Dutch's gaze towards them changed, filled with disappointment and dejection, like when you ask your buddy to play duo queue for a fun way to rank up, only to be rejected by him with the excuse that he "needs to go to the library to study."

However, while most people can distinguish between games and reality, he cannot.

His entire life seemed to be immersed in the role-playing game of Robin Hood.

“I know… the recent string of setbacks has made us all a bit demoralized.” A glint of ruthlessness flashed in his eyes. “So, what if I told you I could get my hands on a real ‘big guy’?”

Chapter 48: I used to call you the timely rain of the West!

Arthur and Hosea exchanged a glance, neither responding. Instead, Arthur looked at Dutch with some concern. If it were any other time, Arthur might have laughed and asked if he'd lost his mind to make such a nonsensical joke.

However, after a series of failures, being crushed and forced to hide, stripped of all dignity, Dutch at this moment may no longer be the person they knew.

Or rather, closer to himself.

“I sent Micah to New Austin to tell Norman Andrew about our situation. Once he makes his point clear, when he comes back… we’ll see what this groundbreaking ‘giant’ really means. Compared to the lucrative arms trade, what we have in Cornwall is nothing more than a child’s toy.”

In Dutch's eyes, the flames of greed burned fiercely. "We won't sink into this quagmire like this, I promise! We can make a comeback, go back to Saint Denis, go back to the place that brought us all these painful memories, and turn all the humiliation and resentment of these days into wealth, and squander it to our heart's content."

“Just you wait and see, Arthur, Hosea. It won’t be long before you realize I’m right, I’ve always been right. As the leader of the gang, I have to consider things from everyone’s perspective… This is definitely a plan worth doing.”

"When it's all over, I mean... when everything that's been bothering us is really over, we'll be free. Not just us, but Jack and those women too. Imagine that kind of life! No one will dare call us country bumpkin gunmen anymore, no one will dare to criticize us anymore. It's a winner-takes-all world. As long as you have money, no matter how you get it, you'll immediately earn everyone's respect."

“The last vote, Arthur, the last vote.” His breathing became heavy, and amidst the howling wind and snow outside the window, Arthur began to hallucinate, as if a ferocious beast lurking within Dutch was speaking in his voice, “Let’s start from the snow mountain again, and do it once more… but this time, do it properly!”

……

“No matter how many times we do it, the result will be the same.” Da Xiong, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke up. Facing a gang leader who had killed countless people, he showed no fear on his face, as if he were simply stating the fact that one plus one equals two. “The outside world no longer has any fertile ground for outlaws to survive. In a few years, the world will undergo earth-shattering changes.”

"This is your last chance to survive."

This is the conclusion Nobita reached after spending all night researching historical materials yesterday (the "Cosmic Terminal Encyclopedia" can still access historical information on the normal timeline). Actually, this doesn't require a deep understanding of history; even someone as uninformed as Nobita could figure it out.

The process of urbanization is unstoppable.

In a few years, when skyscrapers are everywhere, gangs will become the subject of stories and be integrated into the long river of history.

“Oh, boy…you’ve finally spoken.” Dutch looked at him with a complicated expression, a hint of admiration for his talent, but more so, an unfathomable amusement. “Hosea told me that you were holding back from us. You seem to be a very, very, very skilled gunman. In Saint Denis, you accomplished with just five bullets what an ordinary gunman might have to pay a huge price to do.”

"It's truly ironic that such a talented young man ended up in the hands of the lowly Odrisco gang."

"Snapped!"

Dutch suddenly pulled out his custom-made revolver from his holster and slammed it on the table, seemingly urging Nobita to make a decision.

“We’re not like those gangs where the boss can’t even remember the names of his underlings. Da Xiong… those who stay with us are the elite of the elite. With your abilities, you’re destined to be someone who doesn’t remain unknown in this era.”

"Please allow me to once again formally welcome you to the Van der Linde gang."

His tone, with its rise and fall, carried a subtle sense of pressure. Dutch braced himself on the edge of the wooden table, leaning his burly upper body forward, his eyes narrowed, staring intently at him. More than a welcome, it was a notification, leaving him no room to refuse. The gold-plated revolver was pointed directly at Nobita; the dark muzzle itself silently conveyed a message.

"..." Arthur's breathing quickened, his gaze shifting back and forth between the two of them. He cursed under his breath, gritted his teeth, and placed his hand on the handle of the revolver.

Outside, snowflakes were falling.

Inside the house, the fire in the stove flickered.

Nobita's reaction still surprised everyone.

"Snapped!"

He took the souvenir he obtained from Western Star, the "Floating Gun," from his pocket and, as if striking a blow to the wheat awn, slammed it onto the table.

"...Alright, I'll take that as a 'no'." For a fleeting moment, a hint of killing intent flashed in Dutch's eyes, causing Nobita to instinctively place his hand on the hilt of the Piao Piao gun. He sensed that when facing a gunslinger of this caliber, there was no room for carelessness.

Fortunately, in the end he simply put the revolver back into its holster and sighed with a hint of regret, "What a pity, it seems that these days, even the story of a wandering gunman can't attract young people."

“Stories are fine, but nobody’s willing to risk their life playing along with you forever. Except for Micah, he just wants to muddy the waters, kill more people, and make more money. That’s probably why you trust him,” Nobita retorted bluntly. “Dutch, it’s time to end this.”

“You don’t understand us, child, you don’t understand the predicament we face! It will never end!” When a stranger said this to him, Dutch blushed a little, and his voice involuntarily rose.

Lies don't hurt, truth is the knife.

If Dutch slamming the revolver on the table earlier was merely a negotiation tactic to intimidate him, then now he genuinely intended to kill Nobita.

It was so short, so very short... that even he himself didn't realize it.

“Micah… at least he’s loyal. He doesn’t nitpick at my mistakes, nor does he constantly nag me about breaking up the group. Break up? What then? We’ve been targeted by various factions for a long time. Once we scatter, even if we escape to the ends of the earth, they’ll tear us to pieces!” Dutch pounded his chest, showing some frustration, more like using this as an excuse to vent his dissatisfaction on Arthur and Hosea. “Have you considered these things? You haven’t!”

"I made this choice for safety, so that everyone's future won't end up on the gallows!"

……

Nobita stopped arguing with him, but the smile that suddenly appeared on his lips made Dutch feel like he had stepped into a trap.

"why are you laughing?"

"In other words, as long as that Cornwall guy is willing to give up the money and, incidentally, remove the Pinkerton detectives and bounty hunters' warrants against you..."

"Disbanding the gang isn't so unrealistic for you, is it?"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"..."

Upon hearing this, Arthur and Hosea looked at him as if he were a monster.

“Ha… kid… I thought I was the most outlandish person in this room.” Dutch chuckled dryly, instinctively sensing that things weren’t going the way he expected, but still forcing himself to stay focused, he said rationally, “Do you know what you’re saying? Even if you have tons of guns and bullets, even if you can take on a hundred people, this kind of thing still…”

“I mailed a letter this morning. If all went well, she should have received it by now.” Da Xiong ignored him and said with a smile, “Don’t worry, Dutch.”

“I also have a ‘good’ plan.”

Chapter 49: And some people are "capital" itself.

"Dutch!"

The conference room door was rudely pushed open. Seeing Lenny's loyal face, Dutch could only swallow his anger and nod slightly to signal him to continue. Who knew that the young man's next words would nearly stop Dutch's heart.

"We're surrounded!"

“…Calm down, Lenny.” At times like this, the experienced Hosea was the one who remained calmer. “By whom?”

“I’m not sure either. They must be military personnel, so many we can’t even count them. But I haven’t seen any Pinkerton detectives, bounty hunters, or police officers, just soldiers.” Although Lenny was Black, his face was indeed rather pale at this moment. “Hosea, what should we do next?”

When he got up and looked around, almost all of his companions were already gathered outside the door. Even the women who usually didn't care much about the gang's development had all come.

Ultimately, everyone knew their own limitations; they were just bandits. Their real opponents were organizations like the police or Pinkerton detectives. If they really messed with the military, they'd be in deep trouble. No one wanted to take on a regular army unless absolutely necessary—the consequences would be unbearable for everyone.

His gaze fell on Dutch's shoulder, making his earlier grand ambitions seem like a joke.

I haven't even had a chance to settle in, and they've already caught up with me. How am I supposed to live like this?

At this moment, only Da Xiong, who did not belong to a gang, remained calm. "Approximately how many people are there?"

“I saw them during my patrol, definitely several hundred! Many more are gathering down the mountain, right there in Strawberry Town. We're completely surrounded!” Lenny’s eyebrows practically flew off in anxiety. “Is this also the work of that Cornwall guy, Dutch?”

"It's him again? Last time we fled from Valentine's place in a panic, it was all thanks to him."

"This guy just won't let us go! What did we do to offend him?!"

"Maybe...it's because we stole his train before?"

"Ah...this..."

……

"Enough!" After everything went wrong, Dutch also fell into confusion, and confusion is the best way to breed anxiety. "Everyone be quiet! Give me some time to think!"

The quiet atmosphere had some effect; amidst the chaos, people began to find a starting point.

“No, Dutch, think about it calmly,” Da Xiong said in a deep voice. “How could the army possibly take action for a small gang that is disturbing the peace? Besides, if their goal was really to annihilate you, they would have already used the difference in firepower to rush up the mountain. Why would they still be surrounding you at the foot of the mountain, giving you time to react?”

"All signs indicate that a big shot is coming, and the troops stationed here are merely her bodyguards, ha..."

Da Xiong smiled and shook his head, seemingly surprised that things would develop in such an unexpected way.

The magnificent dream of the West from my childhood seems to continue even today.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

“Dutch van der Linde, it’s me!” The voice that had made Dutch grit his teeth for countless days and nights had never been so close, mixed in with the howling wind and snow, making him almost think he was dreaming. “Calm down, don’t shoot yet. As you can see, I’ve come to see you alone!”

“Cornn...son of a…” A vulgar curse was almost uttered from Dutch’s lips. Just hearing his voice made Dutch furious.

The Van der Linde gang's current decline is largely due to the relentless pursuit of Pinkerton detectives, while Cornwall is the biggest financial backer behind Agent Milton.

This high-ranking railway merchant and sugar tycoon, with his vast wealth as advisors, this arrogant and domineering capitalist and monopolist, is now, riding on horseback in the midst of a blizzard, frozen into a ball, repeatedly knocking on the door.

Without Dutch giving any orders, all the gang members picked up their guns, gathered together, and prepared for the fierce battle to come.

“Dutch?! I thought… you were a gentleman!” Cornwall’s voice was so cold it was almost distorted. He kept rubbing his hands together, but couldn’t generate any warmth. “I’m here today with no hostility. I just want to talk to you.”

“If you don’t need your eyes, you can donate them to someone else, Mr. Cornwall.” Dutch had no idea what he was up to. “Are the troops gathered down the mountain just for show?”

“They didn’t come for me… I… Listen, Mr. Van der Linde, things have changed. Because of the intervention of higher authorities, I can now consider myself a mere messenger. And the message I have to deliver is very simple.”

Cornwall didn't even dare to breathe, afraid that a blast of cold air would dry out his throat. He uttered those two words in incredibly short syllables.

"Peace."

……

This moment feels like a dream.

Arthur felt unsteady on his feet, as if he were walking on cotton, and everything around him seemed unreal. Looking around again, he saw that most of the gang members had the same bewildered expression, as if they couldn't believe that they had actually lived through such an illogical week.

Except for Nobita.

He looked out at the snow scene, a slight smile playing on his lips, revealing a smile that reflected how everything had turned out exactly as he had anticipated.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"...Did I miss something?"

“No, Mr. Van der Linde. By ‘peace,’ I mean—no more bounties, no more pursuit, no more Pinkerton detectives following you day and night. All my grievances with you are wiped clean right here. Have I made myself clear enough?”

Cornwall's lips were purple with cold. On the way there, he had anticipated this moment would be humiliating. Bowing to a low-class cowboy reeking of cow dung was hardly something an elite should do. But when it actually happened, all he wanted was to finish quickly and get back to warmth. The words that had been difficult to utter before now flowed smoothly.

"Shit..."

“Wait a minute, Mr. Cornwall,” Dutch’s voice came from inside the house. “Is that all? Is that all?”

"If you're also thinking of ripping me off..." Cornwall said sarcastically, "I'm sorry, I don't have any cash on me."

"I'm curious, Mr. Cornwall, what external force prompted you to make this decision?"

……

Cornwall slowly turned around in the wind and snow, and in that instant, Dutch saw a hint of helplessness in him.

“You know, Mr. van der Linde, there’s a German social activist who wrote some interesting books in which he called people like us ‘capitalists.’ I think that’s quite a fitting description of the current situation. People who own capital are capitalists. We have money and assets, and we employ many people to work for us. That’s how it seems.”

"but……"

"In the end, people like us are just errand runners."

"But some people are 'capital' itself."

This answer shocked Dutch like never before, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that it opened another door for him. This cowboy, who had spent most of his life on the run, finally glimpsed the logic behind how the world works.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Surrounded by military horses, a flawless white foxtrot slowly trotted along the narrow path, revealing a graceful figure shrouded in black velvet. She wore a jet-black gown on top, but instead of the traditional ladylike long skirt, she donned dark blue thermal trousers. A black veil covered her face, giving her an air of unapproachable authority.

This time, without any instructions, Dutch opened the door for her naturally.