Shikatari looked around, convinced that his idea would receive almost no support from anyone, and finally lowered his head and said, "No more."
Ma Shao nodded and said, "In a few days, we will take a batch of new pistols to Santa Fe and sell these high-performance killing machines to the Mexicans."
"I hope the Mexicans can try harder and not lose so badly."
After talking about a few more things, Ma Shao announced the end of the meeting and everyone left one after another.
"I plan to add these paragraphs to the "Spiritual Oracle". What do you think?" Xia Yutian handed the notebook to Ma Shao to look at.
"Okay." Ma Shao still had to check it. After all, sometimes, when you think about what you said before, you may not agree with it.
The two were talking.
"In fact, I feel that there are many people in the tribe who have similar ideas to Deer Hand, especially the old shamans who are scheduled to retire." Rainy Day said, "They are obsessed with tradition, even everything about tradition. They cannot understand change, especially learning from white people's way of change. In their view, learning from white people means being brainwashed by white people."
Ma Shao: "Brainwashing is an objective reality. The problem with these people is that they cannot distinguish between being brainwashed and learning."
After a pause, he added: "It's not all their fault... Learning and being brainwashed are conjoined twins. Only those with the most advanced swordsmanship can separate the two."
Throughout history, both in China and abroad, backward civilizations have always learned both the essence and the dregs of advanced civilizations, rather than just taking the essence.
People at crossroads in history, even many of whom are recognized as heroes, have inherent limitations. They often introduce civilization while also introducing barbarism. When the braid on their heads is cut off, a new braid grows in their hearts.
For example, in late Qing China, who among the many reformists had not said something outrageous? The extreme ones even proposed abolishing the Chinese language and improving the human race.
Even Ma Shao, a time traveler, does not dare to say that he can completely break free from such historical limitations.
This is probably what the so-called upward spiral of history is all about.
The two continued to talk.
Rainy Day: "...If there were no special subsidies, those old shamans would probably not be so honest."
At this point, he couldn't help but sigh: "It's really depressing to have to pay such a bribe every month."
Ma Shao said: "To some extent, this can be regarded as the obligation of reformers. Maintaining stability is one of the costs of reform. If the income brought by the reform cannot even cover the cost of maintaining stability, this reform cannot be considered very advanced."
"You are right." Rainy Day thought for a moment, "But it is somewhat unacceptable that these old shamans are useless, they don't study, they don't work, and yet they still receive a large subsidy every month. In your words, they are 'working for nothing'."
"I was unwilling to give up either," said Ma Shao. "So we opened a drinking house, selling not only strong liquor but also tobacco, and used tobacco and alcohol to get back all the subsidies they received. These old guys are very disgusted with the white man's calendar, but they like the white man's tobacco and alcohol."
…
A few days later.
Ma Shao led more than a hundred soldiers from the tribe and rode southwest to Santa Fe, the capital of New Mexico.
The journey was not very far, and after about ten days, they arrived at their destination. Standing in the snow, they could see the city of Santa Fe in the distance.
"City..." Ma Shao let out a breath and looked at the scene in the distance.
In the past few years since his rebirth, this was the first time he saw a place that could barely be called a city - but only barely.
Santa Fe, the largest city in the southwest, was actually not even as good as a county town if compared with his memories of his previous life.
Not to mention the absence of tall buildings, the scale is also ordinary. It is an earthen city with a population of 18,000, surrounded by low walls. It looks even more desolate under the winter snow, which reminds him of the scene near the police station in his hometown town in his previous life.
"It's a big city indeed!" some soldiers exclaimed.
"This is my first time in Santa Fe, and I've learned a lot."
"I believe that Mianxiong City will become a big city like this in the future!"
Ma Shao curled his lips and said, "That's it? The future Mianxiong City will definitely be much bigger than San Fei. It's just a small place, don't take it seriously, we'll go there."
The group then rode their horses towards Santa Fe.
Soon they came into sight of Santa Fe's cavalry, and both sides looked at each other warily.
"We have no ill intentions! We are here to discuss business!" the translator next to Ma Shao shouted in Spanish.
The Apaches had been dealing with Mexicans for a long time, so they knew more Spanish than English. Ma Shao had learned some Spanish, but his level was still very low, so he had to bring a translator.
The dozen or so Mexican cavalrymen on the opposite side seemed to discuss for a moment, then approached.
The leader was a man with a short beard and a military cap. He looked to be in his thirties. After approaching, he looked Ma Shao and others up and down.
There is no doubt that these yellow-skinned guys wearing eagle feathers on their heads are Indians.
But after looking for a long time, the Mexican officer still couldn't recognize which tribe the Indians belonged to.
After all, these people have almost no Indian characteristics except for eagle feathers and yellow skin.
The various colorful patterns painted on their faces, or the decorations such as shells, tassels, and bones, or the dried enemy scalps hung around their waists, were all gone on the Indians in front of us. There was only cowhide coats of almost uniform style.
"Which tribe are you from?" the Mexican officer had to ask, he really couldn't tell.
"We are from Apache," said Ma Shao, and the translator conveyed the meaning to him.
"Apaches..." The Mexican officer frowned, "What are you doing here?"
Ma Shao said slowly, "For the sake of business, we brought something that Colonel Archuleta would surely be interested in."
"What?" the officer asked again.
The sir did not answer, but said: "Send your colonel over. After all, there are 150 of us here."
The officer was silent for a while, and finally nodded: "You wait here, I will inform the colonel."
He pulled the reins and rode back to Santa Fe.
Soon, the military commander here, Colonel Diego Archuleta, came out with a group of soldiers, accompanied by a young man with curly hair.
"Apaches, I heard you are here to do business." Colonel Archuleta was in his thirties with small eyes. He rode a tall horse, but still looked up at the horse whistle.
"That's right." Ma Shao nodded.
Archuleta said, "That's really strange. The last time I saw you guys doing business here, you wanted to sell us some captives as slaves. Unfortunately, no one wanted to buy them."