Chapter 203: General, He's Cursing Your Mother!

"General, what are these hairy barbarians all shouting about? Nothing but unintelligible bird talk!" A swarthy, rough-looking man wearing a conical rattan helmet and an old set of Ming-standard iron armor said with displeasure.

"Hmph." Mobile Corps Commander Qi Lai snorted coldly, shaking his head to indicate he didn't understand either, then added: "If you ask me, not understanding is just as well!"

"How is not understanding just as well? These hairy barbarians are cursing us, and we can't even understand them? I'm not swallowing this dumb loss!" The Company Commander who had spoken first called out, completely missing the implication behind his Mobile Corps Commander's words.

Qi Lai thought to himself that these really were a bunch of roughnecks, but he was helpless as well, knowing full well that although he was a Mobile Corps Commander, his authority and standing here depended entirely on these roughnecks. So he explained with irritation:

"Talking to you half-wits is exhausting. Since we can't understand them anyway, we can just pin some charge on them and stir things up—what are they going to do, plead their case? You all get it now?"

"The general's plan is brilliant!"

"Why didn't I think of that just now!"

In truth, the Company Commander and many others found these foreign devils offensive no matter how they looked at them. Had the old yamen not forbidden it, they would have charged in long ago and slaughtered them wholesale, kicking those foreign heads around like balls.

After all, no one willingly hands over their weapons—the foreign devils were surely no exception. If someone stirred up any trouble, well, since no one could understand what they were wailing about anyway, however it got interpreted was entirely up to them.

Having finally stumbled upon such a chance to settle old scores and vent old grievances, no one was about to let it slip through their fingers.

All that remained was to wait—wait for an opportunity to grab hold of some excuse, wave a chicken feather as a command arrow, and raise a ruckus. But as they waited and waited, the officers and men discovered something unexpected.

Surrendering weapons meant handing over one's very life. By all rights, there should have been at least some argument—even the most docile common folk would fight tooth and nail over something like this. Yet an hour had passed, and these foreign devils hadn't uttered a single word of complaint, meekly handing everything over in full. Something was very wrong.

"If you ask me, these hairy barbarians are just spineless curs. They're not going to make trouble—don't count on it. We'd be better off finding a foreign whore for some fun." One Company Commander had clearly grown impatient from the waiting, his face full of lecherous intent as he licked his lips and said:

"Have any of you brothers ever tasted a foreign woman? Now that's what I call flavor! Only problem is too much hair—prickly as hell when you're at it!"

Speaking such words in public was punishable by regulation, but Qi Lai had no objection upon hearing it. He chuckled along and said: "We've been garrisoned here in Macau for so long—do you really believe there's anyone who hasn't bedded a foreign woman?"

"No."

"I don't believe it either, haha!"

Those questioned all burst into laughter, going on and on about how open foreign women were—tall and big-built, big where it counted, and how a bit of money was all it took. Once they got started, there was no end to it.

Just as the group was enjoying themselves, a quarrel suddenly broke out in the distance. A foreigner threw a wine bottle to the ground and pointed at their direction, muttering curses.

Seeing this, Qi Lai and his men perked up immediately and marched forward in formation.

In the distance, Wang Cheng'en stood together with Shen Yulong, the Governor-General of Liangguang, watching the progress of the weapons collection, both relieved that no trouble had arisen.

But the good times didn't last. Seeing Qi Lai leading a squad of soldiers storming into the leased territory with murderous intent, Shen Yulong's heart sank. He was about to go check the situation when Wang Cheng'en reached out and stopped him.

"No need. Let the men blow off some steam—it's for the best."

"But... Your Excellency the Eunuch Director, you just finished negotiating an agreement with Gadelao. If chaos breaks out, Gadelao is the lesser concern—the main issue is how will you answer to His Majesty?" Shen Yulong remained worried.

Wang Cheng'en remained utterly unruffled, smiling as he said: "Rest assured, no chaos will break out."

"What do you think you're doing?! What do you think you're doing!?" Qi Lai led his officers straight toward the drunk foreigner. Even in his drunken state, seeing so many rough men with blades and spears charging at him, the drunkard felt a chill of fear and immediately turned to run.

"Where do you think you're going!"

"Grab him! Don't let this hairy barbarian slip away!"

The officers reacted quickly, closing the distance in a few strides. Two men grabbed the drunkard left and right and pinned him to the ground. Hearing nothing but gibberish spilling from the drunkard's mouth, Qi Lai couldn't understand a single word. He turned and asked:

"Lao Er, what the hell is this hairy barbarian shouting?"

This Lao Er didn't actually understand any foreign language either, but seeing his general wink at him, he caught on immediately with quick wit. His expression shifted on cue, and with an exaggerated look of outrage he said:

"General, th-this hairy barbarian has the audacity to curse your mother—and he's doing it in all sorts of fancy ways!"

"What? The bastard's gone and rebelled, has he? He can curse in fancy ways? What all is he saying!" Qi Lai exchanged a smug smile with him, thinking the lad was teachable, but on his face he wore an expression of utter shock, pressing for details.

"Reporting to the general, this hairy barbarian says we're all mud-crawling pigs! He says if you gave his weapon back, he could take down ten of us by himself. He also said once his people arrive, they'll skin us all alive!" This household retainer Lao Er gestured wildly as he spoke, his face full of righteous fury—no one could tell he was making it all up.

"Fine! Men, give him his weapon back! I'd like to see just what he's made of!"

Qi Lai grew angrier and angrier, ordering his soldiers to return the shabby gun that was barely longer than his palm. He himself drew his steel blade and stood in front, looking like a butcher sharpening his knife for the slaughter.

The poor drunkard kept begging for mercy and apologizing, but the other side showed no sign of letting up. For reasons he couldn't fathom, they'd even returned his sidearm to him.

Gazing at the Ming officer across from him, who wore a sinister smile while holding a gleaming steel blade, the foreign drunkard suddenly remembered something called chivalry and tossed his gun to the ground without a second thought.

"Big brother, have mercy! I've thrown away my gun—can't we just call it quits?"

Of course, to Qi Lai's ears this was still nothing but a torrent of gibberish. Thinking the man was waving his arms and hurling insults, Qi Lai's fighting spirit only burned hotter. He had just taken a few steps forward when the foreign drunkard actually threw away his weapon. If the foreign devil had no weapon, wouldn't beating him be bullying?

Qi Lai stood in place cursing when he suddenly heard a tremendous bang.

"Boom—!"

The gun had exploded the moment it hit the ground. A searing hot lead ball grazed right past Qi Lai's ear, leaving only a red mark—but it stunned Qi Lai completely. Even the soldiers who had been cheering all around fell into dead silence.

Before long, Qi Lai snapped back to his senses, sheathed his blade, and carefully ordered his subordinates to retrieve the gun as if it were a treasure. Turning to leave, he waved his hand and said: "Lao Er, cut off this hairy barbarian's head and hang it on the wall. You come with me."

About the time it takes a cup of tea to cool, looking at the small firearm laid out before them, Wang Cheng'en and Shen Yulong exchanged a glance. This little thing—how could it make a sound louder than a bird gun?