Reborn as a Warlord in the Late Qing Dynasty

In the twenty-sixth year of Guangxu's reign, the Gengzi Kingdom changed. The Eight-Power Allied Forces invaded Beijing, Cixi ran away, and the Qing Dynasty's underwear was stripped naked. When I opened my eyes, I became the dandy son of the Ru family in Tai'an, Shandong. As soon as the front leg killed the county magistrate's only seedling with a single shot in Zuixian Tower, the hind leg's family of thirty-eight were being chased and fled north. Before they even ran out of Shandong, my father and mother died in my arms at the gunpoint of the horse bandits. The original owner's enthusiasm was extinguished, and the person who took over was me - a veteran and a half-graduate student of history, who knew damn well what would happen in the next thirty years. But knowing destiny is useless. At the moment, I only have a Mauser gun with five bullets left, more than twenty defeated soldiers, two carts of grain and grass, and a bunch of blood debt. Behind him is the county magistrate's wanted bounty, and in front are the bearded bandits everywhere outside the customs. What to do? Collect refugees, swallow up bandits, kill traitors, and establish rules. In two months, from a mere commander, I gathered hundreds of men, hundreds of horses, and dozens of guns, and forcibly formed a team among the dead among the homeless—the Immigration Insurance Team. Protect the people, protect the land, and protect themselves. Whoever touches my people, I will let his whole family be buried with him. Later there will be Zhang Zongchang, Belarusian armored trains, Prince Su and the Tsarist Princess. But this is all for later. The most important thing right now: get out of the border alive. Let's collect the blood debt of Liu Dabeard of Hushan Hall first. The rest is done step by step. My life was saved and cannot be wasted. In a sentence: I am familiar with the history of the Republic of China, I have a gun in my hand, and I have revenge to avenge - so I have the final say in this troubled world.