Beiyang new warlord

During the guard, the unreconciled Jijiu, Jin Laoliu, and the ronin warrior Honda Civic Toyota Leiling from the Japanese country slammed the hot porridge pot on the ground, not to mention them, even the later ones, participated The fighting Hakkas were not happy, porridge was scattered all over the floor amidst the sound of ping-pong-pong.

It's a pity that Mao Xingjian no longer cares about their feelings. In his stomach, Mao Xingjian is filled with his huge ambition and desire to thoroughly educate these natives, convert them to Chinese Confucian culture, and let them be naturalized from the barbarism of ruthlessness and blood drinking. Come to the agricultural society where men farm and women lead!Still wearing a huge feather crown on his head and wearing the traditional blue linen cape of the Indians, under the light of the torch, Mao Xingjian appeared in front of the leaders of these Cheyenne tribes with strides.

Raising his hands high, he shouted quite sacredly: "Gu! Mao Xingjian is the prince of the Ming Empire! He is also the great chief of the Sioux tribe! The envoy of the three gods of corn!"

The words are quite sacred, but the translation is much weirder. In yesterday's battle, Song Yongzhong, who can speak multi-ethnic dialects, left without looking back. Su Yu translated the Cheyenne-speaking wizard to him, and he then translated it to a group of captives.

Fortunately, the effect is extraordinary. The captives don't know what the prince of Ming Dynasty represents, but the great chief of the Sioux tribe and the envoy mean a lot to them. , the matriarch of the Apache tribe who was almost beheaded was already roaring angrily like a cougar.

"Sacrificing us to the corn god? Sioux, just do it!"

Immediately afterwards, the same hostile buzz sounded, and pairs of eyes were vigilantly searching the surroundings, but to their surprise, Mao Xingjian shook his head heavily again.

"It is indeed a sacrifice to the three gods of corn, but it is not killing you!"

With a wave of his hand, the fire shone on the full cauldron, and Mao Xingjian once again said in a very clever manner: "Each person should drink a bowl of porridge cultivated from the water and soil of the Snake River, and then you can go back to the tribe! The three gods of corn have forgiven you all." !"

Listening to the translation, the prisoners fell silent in disbelief.

The prevalence of witchcraft culture, even the delicious porridge, is not something you can drink casually. After looking at each other for a long time, a man from the Huobi tribe who was clutching his crotch, who must have been begged for his balls by the Su people, staggered out. Apparently, some of his clansman held him back worriedly, but he waved his hand, and the man staggered straight to the side of the pot. He looked at death as if he was at home, and scooped up a shell of rice porridge and poured it down.

Under the nervous gaze of those southern tribal captives, the man limped back into the crowd and walked through the captives who gave way one after another, but when he was about to go out, the man thumped and fell on the ground. On the way, he screamed in surprise, got up again, staggered onto the wooden pontoon bridge that was still full of blood, and his figure gradually disappeared into the night.

With the first person to eat crabs, it is much easier for the rest of the people to accept. First, sporadic steps forward to eat porridge, and then leave, and then groups of people follow, those hot big porridge pots quickly bottomed out, causing The fellows who followed them went back to the camp to serve them. Looking at the captives who came again to get a bowl of porridge, the still hungry Gengars rubbed Gululu's stomach and hummed sourly.

"A group of barbarians, let them go and give them food. I really don't know what the prince thinks?"

"Why did you let us go? What kind of witchcraft did you do in this white thing?"

After all, women are more thoughtful. Those clansmen drank porridge and left quickly, for fear that the Su people would repent. She was full of vigilance and suddenly yelled and asked. Hearing her yelling, Mao Xingjian, whose face was full of distress, was also in a daze. Immediately afterwards, the crown prince suddenly showed a charming smile.

"Of course there is witchcraft. This porridge can fill you up and give you the strength to walk back to the tribe. Isn't this the most magical witchcraft?"

This explanation obviously made the cougar-like matriarch's face full of confusion, and she was completely confused for a long time. This sturdy woman simply gave up thinking, raised her head, and poured the porridge into her stomach fiercely, and immediately raised her hands, He bowed to Mao Xingjian.

"No matter what the witchcraft is, the great chief of the Sioux saved my life today, and I, the chief of the Apache mountain lion clan, Red Deer, owe you my life!"

After bowing, clutching the wound that was as deep as the bones, the woman also staggered slowly towards the other bank of the river.

At dawn, the entire riverside was empty of walking. If it weren't for the deep footprints of cow hooves on the ground, and the black and red blood that hadn't been swallowed by the earth, this fierce war would have seemed as if it had never happened!

Looking at the open field on the other side of the river, full of hope and apprehension, Mao Xingjian put down the binoculars heavily......

Chapter 798 The Prodigal Diplomacy of the Prince

The war is coming to an end for now. Even if more than 5000 middle-aged men and women prisoners of war were sent back willfully by Mao Xingjian, there would be three or four thousand casualties on the spot. The young male and female warriors were also begged for their testicles and wore nose rings. Within at least ten days and half a month, the tribes south of the Snake River will need to lick their wounds, and they are unlikely to launch an attack again.

But in this big victory, Mao Xingjian's prestige did not rise but fell. Relying on divine power, he firmly suppressed the objections of Snake City and the Sixth Division of the Soviet Union. Both immigrants from the Ming Dynasty and the Soviets were full of resentment towards the release of prisoners of war. However, Mao Xingjian didn't care too much about this. The people are so good at forgetting. After the autumn harvest, after a full winter, these guys will resurrect with full blood and follow behind him.

The most urgent thing to delay is to deal with the southern hunting tribes in Henan who are going north.

Only seven or eight days had passed since the war, and yet another huge caravan of buffalo and camels headed towards the other side of the river, pulling a heavy load of goods.

There is a strange circle in history. The mighty Eastern Huaxia Dynasty became poorer as it fought more and more wars. Just like Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty, he defeated the Xiongnu and wiped out the Kudir accumulated under the rule of Wenjing, but the Western colonists were The more you fight, the richer you become. A typical British wrestler always thinks about going to sea to fight against the poor. The Pirate Flag is hung all over the world, and the British have also become the richest royal family from the poorest royal family.

It looks so fucking unfair!But if we really go back to the origin, we can't blame others, only our own national essence.

The Huaxia nationality is a typical farming nation. The main income of the country and scholars comes from the extraction of surplus labor. The territory of the Central Plains civilization has not changed much in 2000. It is because of the Qin and Han Dynasties that the ancestors have almost all the territories suitable for farming in East Asia. Conquer it in your own hands, and then expand, either the north is too cold and the south is too hot, or the vast Gobi grassland with yellow sand, control there will not get much profit, but will lose money, we are still a state of etiquette, and we can't hold back the shame to rob Enslaving local tribes, the bigger and poorer they are naturally, and finally they farm the land honestly, waiting to be beaten.

And the western colonists, they are not gentlemen, they are pirates, just like the Queen of England who was poor at the beginning, who didn’t have the luxury to recruit pirates to go to sea to rob, and get a share of the pirate’s spoils, as long as they come to the money, burn, kill and plunder, Willing to do anything!I can't wait to take over the colonies to make them sky high, and the British have a small land area, and they don't expect to make a fortune by farming a little bit of land. Every time they lay down a piece of land, they plunder the other party's human and material resources through unequal trade. Naturally, the more they fight rich.

However, what is even more exasperating is that in later generations, they are a model of nobility, a symbol of local tyrants, and a model of civilization and human rights. These bandits can still justifiably point at the honest Chinese who are farming, and call them barbarians contemptuously.

In order to change this situation, what Mao Jue has done is to imitate the British spirit of insisting on shamelessness!What kind of state of etiquette?Is it possible that you are a king in the world, no matter what kind of native you are, wherever the Ming army goes, you have to work for me!Going to the capital to pay tribute to cheat money like in the Ming Dynasty, not to mention the doors, the windows are almost gone!

Then there is technological innovation. Once the cotton-padded clothes and trousers are fired in a coal stove, the Great Northern Wilderness, which used to be cold to the ears, can also become a Northern Great Cang. The criss-cross train tracks and sea ships connect the whole country, further reducing transportation costs.

The last is to rejuvenate the country through industry, and get rich through business!And it connects the huge empire. Today's Mao Ming court's income mostly comes from commercial taxes and several monopoly trading companies in the empire, and it doesn't count on that one-third of an acre of land!

Dynasties and dynasties were mostly destroyed by the Peng uprising. His mother's father stopped exploiting Peng. How dare you rebel!

It's a pity that Mao Xingjian still hasn't learned Mao Jue's three axes. He still stays in the era of the heavenly kingdom with vast land and rich resources, relying on the gifts of prodigals to engage in diplomacy.

After the defeat in the Snake River War, these tribes from the south retreated a full tens of kilometers, nearly retreated from the Snake River Plain, and shrank into the mountains and hills at the junction of the Great Basin and the Snake River Plain. Now Song Yongzhong's eyes are gone. Mao Xingjian could only look for it on his own. The cattle team walked dully in the field. After three days of searching, they still didn't find any trace of the southern tribe.

"Prince, are these tribes afraid of being beaten by us, and are they going south again?"

The sun in July and August was sweating profusely, and Chen Zao, a white-faced scholar, turned into a black-faced Bao Gong. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his big sleeve, and he couldn't help turning his head and talking.

Mao Xingjian himself was tanned enough, and he wore a hat with a big brim, which was a bit like the kind of scholar in Korean dramas, so he barely maintained his image as a noble son of Ming Dynasty. He also raised his head and looked at the hills in the distance that were no longer flat. He shook his head heavily.

"Impossible. Winter will come in another three months. The southern tribes will follow the trail of their prey. If they go south at this time, they will only be trapped in the desert near the Great Salt Lake. There will be a dead end. They dare not hunt in the fertile Snake Lake Plain. They must still be hiding in the nearby mountains.”

It really confirmed his words. Not long after Mao Xingjian finished speaking, there was a rush of bushes not far away, followed by groans, thirty or forty Indians from the southern tribes were carrying The wooden gun jumped out suddenly, and in an instant, the sailors guarding the team also raised the bayonet in their hands.

"Gu is the chief of the Sioux tribe, he came to visit your chief!"

When the sword was on the verge of breaking out, Mao Xingjian hurriedly separated from the crowd and walked in the front, yelling loudly. It could be considered that he was lucky. A yell also rang out among the Indians, and he also parted the crowd. Wearing two pieces of blue paint, with a straight nose, a gentle and heroic woman came out with a spear in her hand.

The Apache matriarch Chilu who met that day!

........

It is said that it is the tradition of Daming not to hit people with smiling faces. Here in India, if you give the wrong gift, you will fight. Fortunately, you met such an acquaintance.

Invited by Chilu, Mao Xingjian found the first stronghold of a southern tribe, similar to the original Dakota tribe. This Apache mountain lion tribe also camped in a valley to shelter from the wind. On both sides of the valley, in the middle is a public space for tribal sacrifices and gatherings. Surrounding a big fire, there are ferocious skulls of cows, bears, and deer, and the one in the middle is a ferocious mountain lion skull. As a foil, placed under the totem pole.

However, compared with the Dakota Department that we met for the first time, the Mountain Lion Department is obviously much poorer. The elderly people are sallow and emaciated sitting at the entrance of the tent basking in the sun, and the children also have pale faces, watching the large herd of bison enter. When they left the tribe, they obviously passed by with hope shining from their pupils, but when they saw the sailors with bayonets beside the herd, their pupils showed fear again, and they shrank back timidly.

Seeing this uninvited guest, the other hunters in the tribe obviously surrounded them vigilantly. Fortunately, standing in front of the team, the red deer yelled loudly again, and drove everyone back, but even if they shrank back, no The few people still stared at him and his party with eyes full of vigilance.

It is similar to the diplomatic etiquette used by Mao Xingjian when he visited the Sioux, except that this time the cigarette gift representing friendship was missing. After all, there is no friendship between the Sioux and the Apache now. Unknown meat was cooking in the pot, emitting a fishy smell. The Indians kept staring at Mao Xingjian without going around in circles, and the red deer asked straightforwardly.

"What are you doing here?"

"Peace."

Rather than domineering, Mao Xingjian himself said the word in the Apache language he had learned temporarily, but he was full of confidence, and the matriarch shook his head heavily when he heard it.

"There is no peace! The territories of the Sioux and mine overlap! Unless a tribe withdraws from this hunting ground before winter comes, the war will continue!"

Listening to the overlapping words of the two translators, Mao Xingjian became depressed immediately, and shouted helplessly: "You hate us so much?"

"hatred?"

This word obviously made Chilu stunned for a moment, but immediately, she pointed at the unknown animal cooked in the pot.

"In winter, the prey on the edge of the salt desert will hide. At that time, there will be no raccoons left. Only the bison on the plain can still hunt. If the plain cannot be captured, most people in the tribal alliance will starve to death. In the past, you The Sioux will go far away to the Rocky Mountains, but this year, you will stay and defend the land, so there must be a winner between the two tribes, and the winner can survive."