Chapter 280: Capturing the Natives

Zhu Yong walked at the front of the column, saying nothing.

Zhu Yong recalled the look in the young indigenous man's eyes when he threw a wooden stick at him.

It was fear, and also anger.

They only wanted to protect their own homeland.

And Zhu Yong was the intruder.

But what could Zhu Yong do?

If they didn't fight, the indigenous would rush up and kill their people.

If they fought, they would have to accept the outcome.

Moreover, Zhu Yong truly needed labor for mining.

Australia is so vast, the copper mines are so plentiful, that relying only on craftsmen and soldiers from Great Ming is simply insufficient.

The indigenous are the best labor force.

"Prince, there is a village ahead," Zhang Wu said, moving closer.

Zhu Yong looked up.

In the distance, another cluster of shacks appeared in view.

This time, Zhu Yong did not hesitate.

"Charge forward; kill any resisting men, seize the women and children," Zhu Yong said calmly.

"Yes!"

Two thousand Ming troops surged toward the village like a tide.

Gunfire, shouts of killing, and cries of agony quickly rang out.

Zhu Yong stood on the mound, watching the battle below.

This time, the indigenous had no chance to resist.

Flintlock Guns fired in unison, and dozens fell.

The remaining fell to their knees, begging for mercy.

The fight lasted less than the time a stick of incense burns.

The village was seized; over a hundred men were killed, and more than two hundred women and children were taken captive.

Zhu Yong walked down the hill, passing in front of the captives.

They looked at him with fear, anger, and despair.

He stopped, looking at a young woman cradling a baby.

The woman trembled all over, clutching the infant tightly to her chest, muttering something.

Zhu Yong did not understand, but he knew it was a prayer.

He paused briefly, then told the nearby soldier, "Give her an extra ration of food."

The soldier stared in surprise, then nodded.

Zhu Yong continued forward.

The line of captives behind grew longer.

Day one, three villages, over eight hundred captives.

Day two, five villages, over thirteen hundred captives.

Day three, seven villages, over two thousand captives.

By day five, the captive column stretched three to four li, massive and endless to the eye.

Men, women, children, elders...

All were bound with rope, escorted forward by soldiers.

Some elders could not move, fell to the ground, were dragged for a distance, then their ropes were untied and they were left by the roadside to fend for themselves.

Some children cried so loudly that their mouths were gagged, and they kept moving.

No one resisted, because those who tried were dead.

Zhu Yong walked at the front of the column, occasionally glancing back at the long line of captives.

He showed little expression on his face.

Yet a vague, indefinable complexity lingered in his heart.

He recalled the books about colonial history he had read in a previous life.

When Europeans set foot on the American continent, they treated the Indians the same way.

Killing men, seizing women, taking children, forcing them to work.

Back then, reading the books, he thought those colonizers were truly cruel.

Now he had become that cruel person.

But he had no choice.

Australia needed development, the copper mines needed labor.

Great Ming did not have enough people, and could not ship tens of thousands of civilians across the sea to here.

These indigenous were the only labor force.

Moreover, even if he did not act, when Europeans later arrived, they would do the same.

Even more cruel.

At least he gave them food, gave them water, and did not abuse them.

At least their children could survive.

Thinking this way, the vague complexity in his heart gradually faded.

The tenth day.

The captive force has already reached over five thousand.

The mine has also been reached.

It is a massive copper mine, the exposed ore glimmering green in the sunlight.

Zhu Yong stood at the foot of the mountain, looking at the mountain and then at the weary captives.

"Set up camp; start mining tomorrow," Zhu Yong ordered.

The soldiers busied themselves, erecting tents, setting up fences, and arranging guard posts.

The captives were divided into several squads, each of a hundred, overseen by ten soldiers.

The women were responsible for cooking, washing, and caring for the children.

The men were responsible for mining, transport, and road repair.

Elders and children…

The elders were sent to the seashore to make salt, while the children remained in the camp under dedicated caretakers.

Zhu Yong stood in the center of the camp, watching it all.

In the distance came the miners' shouts, while nearby were the captives' low cries.

Xiao Zhu walked over and whispered, "Prince, it's time to eat."

Zhu Yong nodded and followed her into the main tent.

Inside the tent were dishes, steaming hot.

He sat down, picked up his chopsticks, and suddenly asked, "Those children, do they have food?"

Xiao Zhu was startled for a moment and said, "Yes, each gets a bowl of porridge and a biscuit."

Zhu Yong nodded and began to eat.

After finishing his meal, he left the main tent and went to the place where the captives were detained.

The women and children were gathered in one area, surrounded by wooden fences, with soldiers posted at the gate.

He stepped inside; the captives all stepped back, staring at him in terror.

Zhu Yong glanced around and saw several children sitting in the corner, the older about seven or eight, the younger only two or three.

They were so thin they were skin and bone, eyes hollow, lips chapped.

Zhu Yong walked up to them and crouched.

The children shrank back, huddling into the corner, trembling.

He reached into his bosom, took out a few pieces of pastry, and offered them.

The children dared not take them, only staring at him in terror.

Zhu Yong placed the pastries on the ground, stood up, turned, and left.

Reaching the doorway, he suddenly halted and glanced back.

The children had already picked up the pastries and were devouring them greedily.

A faint smile curled at his mouth as he turned and walked away.

In the days that followed, the mine grew busier day by day.

Each day new ore was extracted and piled beside the camp.

Each day new captives were escorted in to replenish the mining crew.

Zhu Yong visited the mine daily, checking the progress and the miners.

The native miners initially resisted and tried to flee.

They were captured, beaten, locked up for a few days, then released.

After a few attempts, no one ran away.

It wasn't that they didn't want to run; they knew they couldn't escape.

This continent is vast, yet Ming troops are everywhere.

If they run out, without food or water, they'd either starve or be torn apart by beasts.

Staying to work at the mine is better; at least there's food and water.

A month later, the first batch of copper ore was loaded onto ships.

Exactly twenty ships were loaded with a million jin of high‑purity copper ore.

Zhu Yong stood on the dock, watching the soldiers move the last crate of ore onto the ship.

Zhang Wu walked over, his face beaming, and said, "Prince, the first batch of ore is loaded; should we head back?"

Zhu Yong shook his head and said, "No hurry; you take the fleet back first, inform His Majesty that Australia's copper mines are abundant, and have him send more manpower. I'll continue northward to see if there are other mines."

Zhang Wu was taken aback and said, "Prince, aren't you going back?"

"Hmm, someone still needs to watch this side; you go back to report, and return next spring at the start of the year," Zhu Yong said.

Zhang Wu wanted to say something else, but seeing Zhu Yong's resolute demeanor, he could only nod.

The next morning, twenty steamships slowly sailed away from the coast, disappearing into the vast sea.

Zhu Yong stood on the beach, seeing the fleet off as it receded.

Behind him, two thousand soldiers and over five thousand captives stood quietly, waiting.

"Let's go, continue northward," Zhu Yong turned and strode forward.

The beach bore a deep trail of footprints.

In the distance, the mountains of the Australian continent were faintly visible in the morning light.

There are more mines there, more indigenous people, more unknowns waiting for Zhu Yong.

The wind blows, bringing the salty taste of seawater and the fresh scent of distant eucalyptus trees.

Zhu Yong takes a deep breath, the corner of Zhu Yong's mouth curling slightly.

Australia, truly a nice place.