Deep in the tropical rainforest.
Within a crude camp, soldiers armed with throwing spears stood guard atop wooden buildings, but these "soldiers" had youthful faces and anxious expressions.
The camp was filled with wounded men, and screams from amputations performed without anesthetic rang out from time to time.
Inside the central wooden hut.
"Damn white-skinned devils... How did they find our main force?"
The middle-aged man who had retreated with Tony and the others earlier wore an ugly expression as he slammed a fist onto the table.
Bang!
The sheer force instantly left a dent in the wooden table.
Most of the resistance members around them were wounded. Tony had bloodstained gauze wrapped around his forehead, and his expression was equally grim.
After they had stolen the treasure map fragment from Gladstone Fort and brought it back to resistance headquarters, their headquarters had immediately come under attack from the white-skinned devils' army!
Whenever he recalled that scene, Tony could not help closing his eyes.
Most of the resistance still used primitive weapons such as blow darts and throwing spears. It was not that they did not know how much better the white-skinned devils' firearms were.
In truth, even to the Yeni Faction, those detestable whites only sold outdated muskets, their barrels lacking rifling, their accuracy and precision inferior to the true weapons in the colonizers' hands.
The Kumar Faction had it even worse. They worshipped the primitive, believed superstitiously in witchcraft, and rejected everything belonging to the white-skinned devils.
Even if one or two members proposed reform, their voices would swiftly drown beneath a tide of mockery.
The result...
Spears against Minié rifles, witchcraft against cannons...
Tony had personally witnessed a "Great Shaman" of immense magical power within the resistance get focused down by several artillery pieces and blasted directly