“It doesn’t look like acting,” Isaac Hall judged as he gripped the helm. At that moment, a cavalryman hooked the head of a man who had thrown a wooden stick with his curved blade, gave a forceful swing, and the head rolled to the ground, blood gushing from the cranial cavity, splattering Old Hall.

This was a massacre, a real, tangible slaughter, even bloodier than the Liaoning BMW case. Could it be that under the great, wise, correct, and glorious leadership, the Liaoning princelings had become so rampant? Unbelievable!

Both sides were still fighting fiercely. As Isaac Hall was thinking, the woman had already run up the riverbank. Seeing the sailboat lying across the river and spotting Isaac Hall at the helm, her eyes lit up. She waved vigorously at Isaac Hall, shouting loudly in an unintelligible dialect. Her tone shifted constantly, sometimes scolding, sometimes pleading.

Isaac Hall remained silent, pondering. The horsemen also noticed the strange boat in the middle of the river. They put away their mocking expressions and spurred their horses toward the group wielding wooden sticks. With several screams, a few heads flew into the air. Then, the cavalry circled around the remaining resisters and charged toward the woman by the riverbank.

With a splash, the woman jumped into the river without hesitation. The surging current immediately swept her downstream. Isaac Hall hesitated, uncertain: “What’s going on? Have I arrived in a primitive tribe? Why aren’t they using guns or cannons? Why are they fighting with such ancient weapons?”

A few cavalrymen, unwilling to give up, rode their horses into the river, chasing after the woman in the water. Several others on the riverbank took down a strange weapon from their saddles, loaded a wooden stick onto it, aimed at Isaac Hall, and released. The stick slowly flew toward Isaac Hall, who was still foolishly pondering, “Is this the legendary bow and arrow?”

A light river breeze blew, and the short wooden stick veered off target, landing with a “thud” on the deck. It bounced slightly, and Isaac Hall grabbed it.

Sure enough, it was an arrow, with a sharp iron tip fixed to the end of the stick. If it really struck someone, it would definitely hurt. But looking at the bows in the hands of those on the riverbank, they were extremely crude—just a stick tied to a string, yet they dared call it a bow. The arrows shot from such bows had pitifully little penetrating power; even without iron armor, a leather vest could block them.

At Isaac Hall’s feet was a shark gun, which was essentially a powerful crossbow. But even with such a crossbow, if the angle was wrong, arrows would bounce off iron armor. Naturally, arrows from those crude wooden bows couldn’t pierce the composite material of the boat’s hull.

By now, the woman who had jumped into the river was drifting toward the estuary with the current, while fighting continued not far from the riverbank. Isaac Hall couldn’t figure out the situation. He didn’t want to mess with the princelings or the underworld, so he picked up the shark gun at his feet, aimed at a cavalryman’s warhorse on the riverbank, and pulled the trigger.

With a “thump,” the long arrow pierced the horse’s neck as if through a sheet of paper. The warhorse collapsed with a crash, and the rider, unable to jump away in time, was pinned underneath. Isaac Hall could almost hear the sound of the man’s leg bones breaking.

“Damn, these thugs won’t make the authorities come out and demand I pay for the horse, will they? Hmm, how much is this horse worth?” Isaac Hall thought to himself in alarm. He had only wanted to scare them, not expecting to hit with one shot.

The remaining cavalrymen on the riverbank were startled by this powerful weapon and hurriedly dodged. Isaac Hall took the opportunity to load another arrow, gently turned the helm, and steered the boat closer to the shore.

“Sorry, I don’t want to meddle, but you’re being far too ruthless, slaughtering everyone like this! Please stop immediately,” Isaac Hall said, not wanting to spout clichés like “Is there no law anymore?” Regardless of whether they could understand him, he waved the shark gun at the cavalrymen, gesturing and threatening. Unfortunately, his finger slipped and pulled the trigger, sending a crossbow bolt deep into the ground at the scene of the fight, its tail quivering and humming as it stuck out of the dirt.

This powerful weapon clearly intimidated the cavalrymen, who hesitated and jumped back. The cavalrymen struggling in the river abandoned their horses and scrambled up the riverbank.

Now it was the turn of the stick-wielding group to assert themselves. They brandished their sticks, gesturing at Isaac Hall in the middle of the river, and shouted threateningly at the cavalrymen. After a moment’s hesitation, under the threat of Isaac Hall’s waving shark gun, the cavalrymen reluctantly dismounted, threw down their weapons, and handed their horses over to the stick-wielders.

Isaac Hall gave a wry smile. Although he couldn’t understand their words, from their body language it was clear that he had become a bargaining chip for the stick-wielders, used to threaten the cavalrymen.

There were more than ten cavalrymen; besides the one Isaac Hall had taken down, two others lay on the ground. But the stick-wielders had paid a heavy price—seventeen or eighteen lives lost. Now, counting the wounded, only seven of them remained. These people clearly spoke the same language as the cavalrymen, making their threats easily understood.

The seven stick-wielders armed themselves, skillfully mounted the horses, and although the original cavalrymen still outnumbered them, they had lost their weapons and become infantry. Seeing that the situation was under control, Isaac Hall turned the helm and headed toward the woman at the river mouth.

Behind him, the situation suddenly changed...

Chapter 3: Hero Saves the Beauty

Several screams reached Isaac Hall’s ears, accompanied by the sounds of running and shouting. Isaac Hall turned his head, and couldn’t help but tremble, causing the sailboat to trace a gentle arc.