A rainstorm fell without warning.

After dawn, Wang Yaozu had completely gotten rid of the white man's pursuit.

The white man who had his eyes plucked out managed to hold back the other white man so that he would not chase too far.

It's a trick in the unconscious. Although Wang Yaozu really couldn't kill him.

In battle, inflicting a crippled wounded on the opponent is far more useful than giving the opponent a hard corpse.

Wang Yaozu was cold and hungry.

The clothes were soaked.

He kept walking and walking, and he didn't know where he was supposed to go.

At noon he found a rabbit nest in the moor, and when he dug it up, he found that there were several rabbits in it that had not had time to run away. He endured the gore and the fear of germs, and padded his stomach.

It wasn't that he didn't want to start a fire, but he broke a stick and didn't start a fire.

In the evening, he finally saw a huge mossy stone in front of him, about ten meters high.

Underneath the stone stands a road sign with the words 'Greenstone Village' written on it.

Greenstone Village is probably named after this green stone, right?

Although his English is not very good, and 19th century English and 21st century English are completely different things. But he still knew these words. Written English is undoubtedly much simpler than spoken English!

Finally found signs of human habitation, which lifted his spirits.

He was self-aware, and as an Indian, he would definitely have some trouble in such a white settlement.

But he also has some self-restraint: with his knowledge beyond this era for two hundred years, not to mention that he is thriving, it should be no problem to have a full meal, right?

It was probably the middle of the 19th century, and he didn't know exactly what year it was.

He didn't know enough about American history to be able to hug Grant or Lincoln's thigh. But at least he won't think about hugging Spain or the Southern League's thighs.

In the general direction, do not make mistakes.

That's enough for him to do a lot of things.

At least, there are good people among white people, right?

Right?

At the beginning of man, nature is good, right?

……

Bypassing the green boulder, Wang Yaozu suddenly stopped.

His body trembled, and he leaned limply against the wet mossy boulder, sitting in the mud.

On the other side of the greenstone, there is a huge hillside.

Beneath the hillside is an open lowland, scattered with a few small white cabins, and the blue river floats like a ribbon on the green field.

It's beautiful.

However, not far from the small white cabins, a huge mountain of white bones was piled up there.

The sun shines on the Bone Mountain after the rain, and the Bone Mountain emits a sparkling white light.

The mountain of bones is full of white bones.

The kind of gigantic ones are the carcasses of bison.

The tiny ones are human corpses.

The whole bone mountain, about ten meters high, a black man who looks like a farmer is holding a dung fork to sort out the bone mountain, forking a pile of fresh bones behind him, and re-stacking them neatly.

How many corpses must this be?

Wang Yaozu couldn't imagine it at all.

His brain has lost the ability to think.

The sun shone coldly on him, and he tried several times to get up, but halfway through his feet, he fell back to his feet.

No one can not be moved in front of such a 'Jingguan' built with the remains of the same clan.

If it is said that the two countries are fighting, it can be regarded as famous.

But what are the white people for?

Most of the tribe was still in the Stone Age, and the Indians posed little threat to them.

All this just because the whites came here. They are like cockroaches cleaning up the house, and they want to exterminate all the Indians!

At the bottom of the greenstone, a few lines of words are crookedly engraved.

"God expects us to preach the word of salvation, and this is our manifest destiny!"

Manifest Destiny?

Whose manifest destiny came at the cost of killing everyone on the entire continent?

Two hundred years ago, there were no whites on the continent, and the total number of Indians was more than 30 million, even by the most conservative estimates.

But now?

Even in the most radical way, the total will not exceed a million!

And it's declining dramatically every day.

On the road of blood and tears from Georgia to Oklahoma, every inch of the migration road, there were Indians who fell in hunger and leather whips!

From Oregon to Mexico, Indians are being expelled from their homes every day!

The Aztec city of Tenochtitlan has been destroyed forever, buried deep beneath Mexico City!

Chief Tecumse, 44, whose skin was peeled off to make a sharpening belt, still hangs in President Harrison's study!

Is this their manifest destiny?

Is this what their God expects them to do?

Is this what they call 'freedom', 'democracy' and 'justice'?

Is this their way of salvation?

"Me! C！ You! Cornelian! Wang Yaozu stretched out his hand violently and fiercely touched the handwriting carved on the stone with his fingers.

However, until the fingernails were peeled off, the line was not peeled off.

it!

Lao Tzu has lived here for generations, did he provoke you?

If this is your destiny, what is Lao Tzu's destiny?

A fishy-sweet taste welled up in my throat.

Even when he was captured by the white man in the moor, he had never been so angry.

"Go! You! Why! Target! Sky! Life! ”

He picked up a hard stone and wrote on it stroke by stroke.

Every time I write a word, the anger and unwillingness in my heart become more and more intense!

Good!

Since you have traveled here, let Lao Tzu tell you what is the Mandate of Heaven!

What is called his destiny!

I, Wang Yaozu!

- No, Wang Yaozu is dead! From now on, my name will be Turtledove!

Let me turtledove tell you what is the destiny of Nima!

The Indians also have a destiny!

……

It's been a long time.

The turtledove finally calmed down.

The setting sun hung in the sky, as if bleeding, staining the clouds on the horizon red.

A familiar melody sounded in his heart, and he couldn't help but hum softly. He seemed to see the campfire, his mother, and the people of the tribe, and the aroma of roasted corn lingering on the tip of his nose......

Suddenly, a grunting voice sounded from behind him.

He was startled, and when he looked back, he saw a colorful-looking Indian standing behind him, speaking to him.

Seeing his puzzled look, the Indian tried several languages in succession, even English and Spanish.

Finally, he was able to speak a language that the turtledove itself could understand.

"Turtledove! Why don't you run, what are you doing hiding here? ”

The turtledove was shocked!

"You...... Know me? ”

"Your bounty order has been posted in Greenstone Village!" The Indian said, "You killed a white man, and now they are offering you a reward of 30 pesos!" ”

"Huh? How can it be so fast? Turtledove asked in surprise.

"The Mounties came early in the morning to post a bounty order, and now there are bounty hunters looking for you everywhere in the wasteland!"

The turtledove took a deep breath and looked hatefully at the huge mountain of bones down the hillside.

For a moment, I couldn't speak.

"Thank you for informing me." Turtledove said.

"It's okay, I'm an Indian too." The man laughed self-deprecatingly, and said, "Last year, there was a tribe called the Ash Forest, and now, they are all there. He pointed to the mountain of white bones down the hillside.

Turtledove looked at the strange Indian and wanted to thank him, but he felt that the language of gratitude was so pale.

"I have to go!" He gritted his teeth and said.

With that, he stood up and took a step in the direction he had come.

He walked slowly, with heavy steps, as if he had aged dozens of years in an instant.

No one knew better than him what the fate of the Indians would be. Under the nest, how many eggs are gone?

How could he escape?

After a while, he heard the Indian come after him again.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know." The turtledove shook his head and said slowly.

The world is so big, in fact, it is the same everywhere you go.

Even if he was a time-traveler, so what?

With black hair and yellow skin, he was destined to not be able to change his fate even when he went there.

Sooner or later, he would become a corpse in the wasteland—and perhaps part of that mountain of bones.

"My name is Beaver, and you've probably heard my name." The Indian followed behind the turtledove and said.

Turtledoves have never heard of the name 'beaver'.

But the Indian, named 'Beaver,' went on.

"There was a benevolent white man who was willing to make me her slave, and he allowed me to peddle something for him. I'm ostensibly an Indian merchant, but I'm actually a member of the Resistance. ”

"Rebels?"

The turtledove stopped, his eyes lit up.

"Yes, the Resistance!" Beaver was pleased with his performance and then asked, "Are you interested in joining us?" ”

"Who is your leader?" Turtledove asked.

"Victorio!" The beaver said proudly.