Departure

In fact, people in the south really became much poorer during this period.

First, there was the destruction caused by the war; the Britain burned many port cities and cotton fields near the coast.

The economic situation in the South was already anticipated to be poor due to the lack of cotton orders from Britain during the war, and the devastation of the war only exacerbated the situation. However, there was some good news. For example, although Britain orders had disappeared, demand in the Europe market remained. Cotton fabric prices in Europe generally rose, and the rumor that the Britain had burned down United States cotton fields (an exaggeration, of course) created market tension, resulting in a rebound in cotton prices after a significant drop.

However, the rebound in cotton prices was, frankly, far from enough to compensate for the losses of the war. And to make matters worse, Martin and James's region was right by the sea. The Britain had also set fire to the area. A large part of the city burned down, but thankfully everyone had escaped. Much of the cotton in the fields was also burned. As for the cotton stocks, the Britain burned them all. So, they didn't benefit from the rebound in cotton prices. In fact, those closer to the inland areas, and the France in Louisiana, actually benefited from the price rebound—if they hadn't sold all their cotton before the price rebounded.

Considering the costs of rebuilding their homes, everyone is really short of money right now. Even if they did have some, much of it has already been lent to other friends.

So when Martin said he had no money, everyone sighed.

"This is unbearable! I used to drink France wine, but now I can only drink local beer," another person lamented.

"Everything has gone up in price, except for guns and ammunition, which are cheaper than before," someone complained.

On the North America continent, whether in Mexico or formerly Canada, the war was over. Therefore, the once highly sought-after firearms and ammunition were now surplus goods, being sold off at discounted prices. While loading these items onto ships and transporting them to Europe might fetch a good price, the round-trip shipping costs made the deal less appealing. However, this wasn't the main reason. The main reason was that France didn't want to see such a large quantity of secondhand weapons appearing in Europe, crowding out the France market.

So nowadays in Georgia, everything is expensive except guns and ammunition. Even though everyone is poorer now, when shooting targets, there's less concern about wasting bullets than before. Often, out of boredom, people will fire a few shots into the air for the sound, since they're cheap anyway.

Of course, economic hardship, coupled with the abundance and cheap availability of firearms and ammunition, naturally led to a chaotic public order.

The difficult life and chaotic security situation had everyone thoroughly fed up.

"What's worse is that I have to support a huge group of black slaves! To be honest, I really envy those France people who run factories in the west. Look how decisive they are. When there's work in the factory, they open the doors and bring in a bunch of new immigrants to work; once there's no work, they shut down the machines and kick all the workers out, leaving not a single idle person. But we slave owners are really suffering. Now the cotton fields have all been burned, and there's no need for those black slaves to do any work in the fields, but we still have to support them. It's really..." someone else complained.

Therefore, free workers are far better off than enslaved people.

That's why no one could afford to support Martin.

"To be honest, no one here has an easy life," someone complained.

"Not entirely. Dyson's boss is doing quite well. His Louisiana wines are making him a fortune," someone said loudly.

Everyone burst into laughter, because the Louisiana beer owned by Dyson at the shooting range was originally a failed business deal for Dyson. A France business partner had lost money in a transaction and had mortgaged a batch of Louisiana wine to Dyson.

Although Louisiana is part of France, and some France people have brought grapes there to make wine, the quality of these wines cannot compare to Bordeaux, let alone Italy or Austria wines. Therefore, the primary purpose of Louisiana wines is to be sold to low-end taverns, where they are then packaged and sold as Italy wines. And they don't even know how to directly impersonate Italian wines; they can only mix them in to pass them off as such.

So, although Louisiana wine is still wine, it's priced almost the same as beer. Basically, it's something that doesn't sell. And Dyson's friend quickly went bankrupt and disappeared without a trace.

Compared to the money Dyson lent to his friend, these Louisiana wines were practically worthless. So, Dyson was clearly losing money at the time. But unexpectedly, war broke out, and the demand for alcohol increased dramatically, while the supply of alcohol was disrupted.

Fewer ships were heading to Europe, and the cargo they carried was mostly directly related to the war. The amount of wine imported from Europe dropped dramatically. As a result, Louisiana wine, which was previously ignored, looked down upon, and considered only fit for domestic slaves, suddenly became valuable. Prices skyrocketed, and thanks to this wine, Dyson's owner made a fortune while everyone else was poor.

"Mr. Dyson, now that you're rich, why don't you take out some money to help Martin go to Massachusetts and take down those two bastards?" someone shouted.

"I can buy him a drink, but it's not right for me to fund his killing spree," Dyson's owner said with a smile and a shake of his head.

"Come on, Mr. Dyson, it's just killing someone. Who here hasn't killed someone? Besides, can those two even be considered human?" someone shouted.

"How about this, Martin's been a great shot all along, but Dyson, yours is pretty good too. How about you two make a bet, the usual, 300 feet, chest target, ten shots. If Martin wins, you give him a hundred dollars, which should be enough for him to go to Massachusetts. If you win, well, for the next month, Martin will come to your place every day to work for you."

The bet seemed unreasonable, as a waiter's salary certainly didn't need to be as high as one hundred dollars. However, considering that eliminating traitors to the country wasn't Martin's personal matter, it wasn't unacceptable, though the Dyson owner still suggested modifications.

"If it's ten shots, I might as well just pay up," said the Dyson owner. "Martin is a good shooter; his marksmanship is clearly better than mine. If you have to bet, then bet on one shot. Besides, this isn't just Martin's personal matter, so if Martin loses, that's fine. If he wins, every one of you here will come work for me for a day. How about that?"

Betting on one shot is far more unpredictable than betting on ten, because neither player has a chance to adjust. Therefore, when skill levels are similar, luck plays a much larger role. This gives the opponent a better chance of winning than Dyson, whose shooting skills are clearly inferior. It's similar to how, in later generations, to increase the element of chance in table tennis matches, the score was changed from 21 to 11 points. However, while the intention behind the change was good, the final result showed that without sufficient skill, resorting to such underhanded tactics is actually quite ineffective.

Since Dyson's suggestion was basically reasonable, everyone agreed. So Dyson had rifles brought out—all top-quality France rifles, since they weren't worth much these days anyway.

The two men arrived at the shooting range, and everyone else followed. The other people who were shooting stopped and came to watch the contest.

Dyson had a target set up 300 feet in front of him. Then he said to Martin, "Why don't you shoot first?"

The shooting range was open-air, so there were more interfering factors, making it harder to get a good first shot. However, Martin didn't object. He picked up the rifle, loaded a bullet, raised it, aimed for a moment, and fired.

"Nine rings!" the target announcer shouted out his score. At this distance, using a gun that he didn't usually use, to score nine rings in one shot was an excellent result.

Even Martin himself was very satisfied with the shot, so he put down his gun and said to Dyson's boss, "Alright, your turn."

Dyson glanced at Martin and said, "You hit a nine-ring with one shot, how am I supposed to hit it with this one?" As he spoke, he picked up the already loaded rifle, aimed for a while, and then fired a shot.

"Seven rings!" The target reporter immediately announced the shooting score.

"Actually, my shot was pretty good too," Dyson said, putting down his gun and extending his hand to Martin. "But your shot was just too good."

Now that the outcome was decided, Dyson's boss, being a straightforward person, went straight to his office and returned shortly afterward with a wallet in his hand.

Mr. Dyson pulled two crisp hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and handed them to Martin, saying, "A hundred dollars might be a bit tight, so I'll lend you another hundred. If you haven't used them all when you get back, return the rest. Hmm, are you sure you want to pull off a heist in Massachusetts?"

"Of course, with so many people as witnesses, how could I go back on my word?" Martin replied.

"In that case, I should write you a letter. You know I'm in business, and I have friends all over North America. I have a France friend who's doing business in Boston recently. You can go to him there; he might be able to offer you some help," Dyson said.

"Is your friend reliable?" Martin asked. He was going to commit murder, and he didn't want to get arrested by the Massachusetts police because of some unreliable guy.

"If it were an unreliable person, I wouldn't have introduced it to you in the first place," Dyson said. "Alright, you keep playing here, I'm going over there to write a letter."

So Dyson went back to his office. He stayed inside for a while, then came out with an envelope.

He handed the envelope to Martin: "The envelope isn't sealed. Take a look at the contents first. If you think there's nothing wrong, I'll seal it."

Martin pulled the letter out of the envelope and read it. There wasn't much written on it; it simply told his France friend, Pidul, that Martin was his friend and that he was there on some business, hoping that Pitoure could offer him some assistance within his means.

"There are many things I can't write down directly in a letter," said the Dyson boss. "But Pidul is a reliable friend you can trust. Once you meet him, you can tell him your plans directly. He'll definitely be willing to help you if possible."

Martin thanked Dyson. Dyson then sealed the envelope in front of him and handed it to him. He then raised his glass and said, "Friends, let's raise a glass and wish Martin victory!"

After everyone had a good laugh, Martin went home. Actually, although he was very dissatisfied with the two traitors, he wasn't so desperate as to travel thousands of kilometers to take their lives. It was just that at the club, after a couple of drinks and some encouragement from everyone, he actually agreed to do it.

But it was too late to back out now. If he went back on his word in this kind of situation, he'd be out of a job in this area. So, although he was a little apprehensive, he was determined to get to the bottom of this.

So he told his wife that he was going on a long trip to take care of some things. Then he boarded a ship and headed north by sea.

If you're in Louisiana, a little to the west, taking the train would be a good option. The France built a north-south railway along the Mississippi River, stretching from New Orleans all the way to the Great Lakes region. It's said the France even planned to extend this railway to Quebec in the future.

However, the United States currently lacks railways connecting the north and south, as well as rivers like the Mississippi River linking the north and south. Therefore, the most convenient way to travel north is by sea.

Martin brought a rifle and a revolver onto the ship. At that time, gun control in the United States was practically nonexistent; it was common for people to carry guns when traveling long distances, and nobody cared.

Martin soon disembarked in Boston Harbor. He then found Mr. Pidul at the address Dyson had given him.