Colt M1835 is a smoothbore pistol.

None of the smoothbore guns had a high hit rate.

However, that doesn't mean it will never hit the target.

Especially when the target is only about 20 meters, it is still easy to hit.

So the brave little Indian, who had just smashed a bison with a stone, fell to the ground.

"Damn it!"

Joey scolded.

He's aiming at the one on the ground!

Re-aim with the right hand and quickly flick the bolt with the left hand.

Wang Yaozu quickly sat up straight, and he didn't have time to care about the little Indian who was close at hand, and he didn't care about the bison that refused to fall even though he was stunned by the stone.

Holding the pistol in both hands, try to stabilize the barrel as much as possible.

Under his gaze, a faint dotted line spread out of his spear and crossed the head of the white man opposite.

He lowered the tip of the gun slightly.

Then the dotted line fell under the white man's feet.

Damn it!

Why is it so hard?

Really, with standard answers, you can't do a good test paper?

He held his breath and tried not to shake his hands.

However, the harder you try, the more you can't grasp it.

"Bang!"

The white man fired another shot, and the bullet grazed Wang Yaozu's shoulder, startling him.

Once again, luck was on his side, and the white man still didn't hit.

Presumably, the other party was also afraid, so they didn't dare to close the distance at all.

When he was a child, Wang Yaozu watched several western cowboy films, and the cowboy in it played a revolver, which was called silky.

Basically, it means hitting wherever you want, and you can fight as much as you want.

But in reality, it's impossible to think about it with your ass.

Especially in the era of smoothbore guns.

There has never been a duel in history, and the so-called 'quick gun drawing' is useless at all.

There is also a 'six-gun technique', which is an exaggerated product.

Probably, just like the Chinese's 'flying sword' and the Indian's 'motorization', they are all imaginary.

The truth is that the anatomy of the human body doomed the gun to not be raised to the point of sight during the six-shot round, and could only be fired below the chest. This means that unless you are extremely skilled in marksmanship, you will not be able to hit anyone at all.

A generation of Western legend Sheriff Wyatt Upe, many directors have changed many movies based on his experience, and won numerous awards. In his later years, he bluntly said: "In my experience, gun fans who read fictional novels about me, and those who shoot from the waist, have no chance of surviving from a person who is aiming normally!" ”

A 19th-century captain of the Texas Ranger also noted, "In my riding career, I have never seen anyone shoot from the waist." All of them raised their shoulders, took aim and shot. As for the six consecutive shots, it is almost a showbiz of its own. It can only be said that a man may like to have fun, but rarely like his real life. ”

There has never been a so-called fair duel in history where all cowboys died in a sneak attack from behind.

A real cowboy will never have a duel in a dignified manner, and the one who can survive will always be the old yinbi.

……

Wang Yaozu only had one bullet.

So he couldn't shoot like the white man on the other side.

“￥%……@~”

The little Indian who fell to the ground howled something.

Wang Yaozu didn't understand.

At this moment of life and death, Wang Yaozu still had the heart to feel even more sad for his already extremely sad emotions.

Poor Indians!

Seeing that it was about to be extinct, it was divided into dozens of races, hundreds of languages, and thousands of tribes.

It's really hard to imagine that Hemudu + Dawenkou + Liangzhu ...... How should a bunch of such civilizations face steel and artillery fire!

Not to mention, this bunch of civilizations are still hostile to each other.

There are also traitors like 'bison' who are bent on taking refuge.

A deep sorrow welled up in my heart.

……

In the distance, the white cowboy whose eyes he had plucked out was heard calling aimlessly towards the wasteland.

Nearby, the little Indian who had been shot also made a sounding 'wah-wah-wah-la-la' of unknown significance.

Other than that, the whole wasteland is as silent as a movie theater.

A feeling of absurdity and unreality that moistened his nerves.

Gradually, he calmed down.

The dotted line that spread out from the muzzle of his gun finally landed in the middle of the felt hat of the white man lying in the grass, and only shook slightly, like a fishing line hanging down into the lake.

Probably knowing that it would not work to shoot down like this, the white man also lay on the ground and took serious aim.

Wang Yaozu saw that a dotted line extended from the muzzle of the white man's gun and landed behind him.

So he didn't panic at all.

"Bang!"

Wang Yaozu was the first to shoot.

His only bullet was fired.

The felt hat in sight rose in response and flew high.

"Bang!"

At the same time, the white man also fired. As expected, the bullet followed the trajectory of the dotted line and landed behind Wang Yaozu.

In this round of fighting, neither of them hit the other.

Although there was the assistance of the dotted line in his sight, Wang Yaozu, who used the flintlock smoothbore musket for the first time, was pushed by the huge recoil and involuntarily raised the muzzle of the gun when he pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit the white man's felt hat.

He didn't know what the white man was feeling, but the fact that the shot didn't hit the enemy made him panic.

His only bullet was gone.

The situation suddenly became awkward again.

The white man continued to aim.

Wang Yaozu was pretending to aim.

……

Not far from his side, the bison staggered to its feet.

How Wang Yaozu hoped that at this time, his fellow Indians could stand on his side.

But he knew it was impossible.

He no longer hesitated, picked up his revolver, and ran away.

From time to time, he turned his head and made some turns to avoid the dotted line that spread from the muzzle of the white man's gun.

The white man screamed and chased.

And the white man who had his eyes gouged out, still screaming bitterly in the wasteland.

The little Indian under the oak tree was also crying out in pain.

Wang Yaozu couldn't understand any of their language.

Many memories of the past came to his mind as he ran violently.

In his memory, he came from a distant tribe in the north.

Mountains are full of flowers in the spring, rivers wash schools of salmon onto the banks in the summer, wild fruits and corn are sweet in the fall, and white snow and ice in the winter.

However, one day he was picked up from his sleep by his mother and began to flee day and night.

The mother fell off a cliff while climbing over it.

There are fewer and fewer people.

It turned out that many people who had been known for a long time disappeared one by one.

The 'Bison' was first a samurai with a huge scar on his chest, then a fat man with a short scar, then a thin bamboo pole with a broken arm, and then an old man with a sad face......

When he was younger, he thought that Bison would change. Later he learned that these people were called 'bison'.

Bison don't change, they change people.

……

He ran faster and faster.

The voice of the little Indian under the oak tree grew fainter and weaker.

Suddenly, he felt as if he understood what the little Indian was saying:

"Run!"

"Run, our king!"

"Leave me alone!"

"You'll be back!"

"You're going to come back with a thousand Indian warriors! You will avenge us! You will take back our land! You'll relive the glory of the Aztecs! ”

"You will conquer this land and expel those who invade it with cruelty and evil!"

"You must live! Alive! ”

……

What a brave little Indian!

Wang Yaozu thought to himself.