Chapter 829 - 3: Arkansas (2)

Chapter 829: Chapter 3: Arkansas (2)

However, if there were a more flexible and convenient means of transportation like a motorbike, he wouldn’t mind using it.

Adjusting the long saber at his waist, Chen Zhou pushed open the car door and picked up an umbrella. Just as he was about to leave the car, he heard the plea of the little girl again.

"Please don’t kill my dad. He’s really not a soldier."

A slight pause, he turned to look at the little girl, and it was only then that Chen Zhou realized.

It turns out the little girl mistook him for an Indian because they share the same skin color. And since the girl was too young, she couldn’t correctly distinguish between the looks of East Asians and Indians, which led to this erroneous judgment.

Understanding the era’s background in the United States, it’s easy to find the reason why the girl said those words—

In the mid-19th century, during the Civil War, Indians who ceded their ancestral lands to the whites became displaced, and this was just the start of the nightmare.

Subsequently, the Indians not only failed to reclaim their lands but were brutally massacred, with the main race that once spread across North America nearing extinction.

Many Indians witnessed their homes destroyed and compatriots killed, leaving them with curses against the Americans, which led to various terrifying legends.

On such a rainy night, seeing an "Indian" break through the window and storm into the car, it’s quite understandable for the little girl to mistake him for an avenging Indian.

As for why she kept pleading not to "kill her dad," it should be her way of explaining that her father had no blood feud with the Indians, hence there was no need for revenge.

However, Chen Zhou felt that with Indians almost wiped out, no outsider living in North America could truly be considered innocent. Even if they weren’t the initiators of the massacre, they tacitly approved of such actions.

But these matters have nothing to do with him. Since he is neither Indian nor American, there’s no need for him, as a "third-party," to get involved in their bloody hatred.

He didn’t want to become a "righteous crusader" seeking justice for the Indians. What mattered now was finding Ambrose, finding the murderer family.

Closing the car door without saying a word, Chen Zhou didn’t bother to explain.

He hoped that when the girl’s father woke up, the words he heard would be that the "Indian" smashed the glass, stole his money, and left, thereby reducing some unnecessary attention.

...

Opening the umbrella, he pried open the car trunk, and first to catch his eye was a full-sized spare tire fixed to the baseboard, along with emergency repair tools like a jack.

After searching briefly, Chen Zhou didn’t find the firearms he desired most but instead found a large blue wool coat stained with motor oil. Beside the coat, bolts were wrapped in layers of newspaper, also stained with dark oil stains.

Rarely able to see something with words on it, Chen Zhou cautiously opened the newspaper, poured out the bolts inside, then wrapped the newspaper with the coat to prevent it from getting wet, and left the stranded car clutching the coat.

As for whether the little girl would be rescued afterward or the driver could die due to delayed injury, he didn’t care.

Ultimately, he just took a few bills and ate some food, which would not affect the result of this car accident.

More importantly, he couldn’t offer any help; dialing a distress call would only bring him endless trouble.

...

With the umbrella open, he stuffed the newspaper into his coat. Chen Zhou put on the coat—

He just realized his modern combat uniform was completely incongruous with the mainstream fashion style of mid-20th century America. To avoid drawing attention, he decided to disguise himself.

However, besides the attire and appearance, his height was also a significant issue.

In a street full of people around 1.7 meters, the sudden appearance of someone as tall as 1.9 meters would undoubtedly attract everyone’s attention.

Height is naturally unchangeable, so Chen Zhou could only find ways to avoid going out when there is a high flow of people, lest he expose himself.

...

With rain pattering down, Chen Zhou advanced while counting his loot, including the dollars and newspaper he’d seized.

Perhaps the driver had a low income; after counting, Chen Zhou found that although there were many bills, their total value was not much, totaling only 455 US Dollars, which seemed utterly inadequate.

"Looks like I still need to make more money. Not sure if this money is enough for me to stay in a hotel for a few days..."

Quietly pondering "doing another," Chen Zhou didn’t realize that, in fact, 455 US Dollars was already considered a considerable sum in mid-20th century America.

At this time in the southern agricultural states, an ordinary worker couldn’t earn 150 dollars a month, the rent for a house in a remote small town wouldn’t exceed 50 US Dollars, and a hamburger cost merely 0.15 US Dollars.

The money he had was enough for him to live comfortably for two months, provided he could solve the issue of his identity.

...

Counting exactly how much money he had, Chen Zhou couldn’t wait to examine the newspaper.

There were four sheets of newspaper wrapped around the bolts, but unfortunately, three of them were the same.

The different one turned out to be an auto repair digest, full of useless car repair knowledge which seemed overly outdated for Chen Zhou, who was specialized in mechanics.

As for the rest of the contents on the newspaper, most were also useless politics, celebrity gossip, with little to no information about regional conditions and various towns.

Although Chen Zhou wasn’t fluent in speaking English, he had no problem reading it.

Having quickly perused two sheets of newspaper and double-checked them, he finally confirmed that there was no introduction about Ambrose, not even the mention of the term Ambrose.

Besides, words like "murder" or "serial killer" didn’t appear; the writer only described the area flourishing under the wise leadership of the new town mayor and wise new policies.

Under such a background, security in the town naturally remained flawless; there was no murder or rape, not even the bikers causing trouble; they had also changed their ways and become new persons.

"Damn, I can’t even find where Ambrose is, how am I supposed to deal with the murderer family?

Could it be that the Space-Time Administration Bureau messed up and sent me to another world?"

Faced with the dilemma, Chen Zhou was at a loss.

Stronger opponents than one’s own inability to find them were even scarier.

"I can only take one step at a time.

Even though I can’t find the murderers, that’s also good news. Since we can’t find them, we can temporarily hide, wait until the side effects of the medicine disappear, then act. The odds will be better then."

Comforting himself, Chen Zhou continued along the highway.

From the newspaper, he learned that he was currently in Nevada County, Arkansas.

This county is extremely remote, although vast in area but sparsely populated, with most of the land being farmland and the residents being mainly farmers.

Following Route 66 forward, he could reach Prescott, which the little girl mentioned.

That’s Nevada County’s administrative center, a not-so-large town, with about four to five thousand permanent residents. Not only is it located in a remote area, but the town’s customs are relatively simple and honest.

Chen Zhou planned to rest in Prescott for a while, waiting for the side effects to dissipate while gathering information to prepare for subsequent actions.

If possible, he wanted to obtain some guns for self-defense, perhaps get a car and valid credentials, which would make it easier for him to move quickly.

In the prehistoric world, it wasn’t possible; he could only walk on two legs, but now that he’s in modern society, one can’t just use legs and compete with car wheels.

Moreover, the land here is vast; if he chances upon information and doesn’t have a means of transportation, by the time he arrives, it might be too late.