However, thinking back, this afternoon's pursuit and ambush operation was full of suspicious elements.
Henry felt that the bandits had deliberately lured the main force of the police station out to annihilate them.
People in the underworld were all about making money—who would specifically ambush police officers, specifically to wound or kill them?
Bryan and the others weren't escorting any valuable goods.
Wouldn't the bandits be making mortal enemies of the American law enforcement system by doing this?
Even if this ambush succeeded, they would very likely face consequences later, falling into endless pursuit.
So, something was very wrong with all this.
Henry felt he needed to do everything possible to immediately strengthen his power.
Meanwhile, about 15 miles from Henry's location, a group of eighty-six armed cavalrymen was galloping toward Frisco.
The blonde, blue-eyed knight Jack at the front was about 40 years old, burly in build, with a baby palm-sized burn scar on his left cheek that turned his originally handsome features hideous and terrifying.
Jack was now frowning, saying to the 30-something black-haired, fair-skinned Irish Gallagher who was half a horse-length behind him: "It's been half an hour past the agreed time and Michael still hasn't appeared. Given his consistently arrogant and conceited style, he may have already led his team to ambush Bryan and the others alone."
Gallagher's face was grim. As Michael's cousin, he knew how rebellious and unruly Michael was.
According to the information he had gathered, Sheriff Bryan was a famous sharpshooter from the Southern army during the Civil War, who after defeat had no choice but to hide his identity and leave his hometown to become a bounty hunter, eventually becoming sheriff of Frisco town through chance.
Especially since Bryan was only 38 this year, right in his prime.
Dear Lord, please don't let anything happen to Michael—he's the last male heir of this family branch.
Gallagher prayed silently in his heart.
Henry finally tried to collect an Appaloosa horse near the bandit chief, but couldn't collect it.
It seemed the space couldn't store living creatures.
However, three of the bandits' horses had been shot dead, and he collected them all into his space.
Henry rode his horse to about ten meters from a black cottonwood, dismounted, then walked to the side of the tree facing away from the road and sat down.
He took out his Patek Philippe gold pocket watch—3:31:28 PM.
Then, he focused his consciousness on the "+" sign that had just appeared after Constitution LV1.
A warm breath appeared out of nowhere, enveloping his entire body and making him instantly intoxicated.
A large amount of experience practicing various rifles, especially the Winchester 1873 lever-action rifle, appeared in his mind out of nowhere.
Then came extensive experience quickly drawing and shooting double-action Colt 1878 pistols from holsters with both hands.
Finally, extensive experience training various horses, using lassos to drive them, and riding them at full gallop on various road conditions.
When Henry regained consciousness, exactly three minutes had passed on his pocket watch.
So each experience infusion lasted one minute?
The Constitution on his panel had become LV2, and the upgrade process had consumed 40 gray beads.
Now Henry only had 2 unused Level 1 gray Liberation Beads, with 5 gray bead shells, 5 white bead shells, and 2 green bead shells.
The white bead shells could deflect rifle bullets.
The green bead shells could deflect machine gun bullets.
At this point, Henry felt like he had been practicing various rifle shooting for twenty years, handling all kinds of rifles on the market with ease, especially the Winchester 1873 lever-action rifle. He was confident he could achieve headshots on stationary targets within 400 yards with this rifle, and his hit rate on moving targets would exceed 80%.
Oh right, Bryan's Winchester 1873 rifle was also a refined "One of One Thousand" version—a high-end limited edition with the most accurate barrel, adjustable trigger, and meticulously polished metal components.
Using this rifle, Bryan could even precisely harvest heads within 500 yards.
One yard equals 0.9144 meters, so 500 yards is 457.2 meters.
Among repeating weapons of this era, this was absolutely first-class lethality.
No wonder Henry had discovered during his looting that at least thirty corpses had been killed by .44 bullets with single headshots—most of them were probably killed by Bryan.
Unfortunately, he had fallen into an ambush and ultimately couldn't fight so many with his fists alone. A good man couldn't withstand large numbers, and he had died together with the bandits.
With the double-action Colt 1878 pistols, Henry could now draw both guns from their holsters and accurately hit targets about 30 meters away within half a blink of an eye.
His horsemanship was equivalent to a twenty-year veteran cowboy's, with intimate knowledge of various horse characteristics and masterful lasso and riding techniques.
Henry took out Bryan's "One of One Thousand" Winchester 1873 rifle and began loading it bullet by bullet, then his own, and finally loaded five more rifles completely.
Then he took out two Colt 1878 double-action pistols, filling each gun's 6-bullet chamber.
Except for his own and Bryan's rifles, all other firearms were in a safety-off state, ready to fire at any moment.
Henry discovered that items in the storage space could be instantly stored and retrieved according to his will—he was like a god in the space, knowing everything in the space intimately without needing to spend time searching for items.
Finally, Henry selected three particularly vicious-looking corpses to store in his space, tied Bryan's body to his former mount, mounted his own horse, then gathered 10 of the bandits' horses and drove them back toward Frisco town.
About 10 minutes after Henry left, the cavalry unit led by Jack and Gallagher passed through this hilly area, quickly discovering the bodies of Michael and his entire team.
This made tears silently flow from Gallagher's eyes—Michael's branch of the family line was finally extinct!
Blood debts must be paid in blood!
Gallagher clenched his fists and swore through gritted teeth.
Then they discovered over twenty corpses of Frisco police officers, but didn't find Bryan's.
It seemed the ambush had succeeded for the most part—Frisco's police station only had 1 sheriff and 5 deputy sheriffs, with all other officers being temporary workers.
They just didn't know whether Bryan was dead or alive.
Gallagher said: "It seems news of our ambush on the Frisco police officers has leaked. We might as well go to the town to see if we can attack it, at least to find out what Bryan's current situation is."
Jack nodded in agreement, saying coldly: "If Bryan isn't dead yet, we'll force the town to hand him over. This is my eighteen-year personal vendetta with him!"
The group spurred their horses and galloped toward Frisco town.
At this time, Henry was already driving eleven horses approaching Frisco town.
All along the way were the vast and magnificent western landscapes—one man and many horses galloping and raising flying dust, further highlighting the desolation and boldness of the West.