Aztec Eternals

The morning sun rises from the godly mountains of the eastern valley to illuminate the fertile plains of the Western Lake District. On the plain, there are scarlet marks of fighting all over the place, extending to the end of the river. In the center of the intertwined traces is the endless Mexica camp, like a hunter in a red spider web, enjoying the peace after hunting.

The army camped in the open air, simple in shape, but full of chills. More than 20,000 elite legions were stationed in the camp, guarding a large number of prisoners. The patrolling elite warriors stretched their bows and held their sticks, and spread out for several miles, guarding the southeast direction.

In the distance, there was a loud eagle cry first, and then the fierce figure of a jaguar warrior appeared. Wearing colorful leather armor, they escorted enemy warriors with their wrists bound. These elite regiments have no shortage of meat on weekdays and can see clearly at night. They are the only troops that pursue overnight. For the sake of capturing the prisoners, they chased them all night, letting go of the worthless militiamen, and finally returned with a satisfactory result.

Xiulot sat cross-legged in the big tent in the center, dealing with the complicated military affairs after the war, and listening to the reports of the warriors one after another. Even though he didn't sleep all night, he was still in high spirits and kept all the military information in his heart. It wasn't until the smoke rose from the tent and the guards delivered the steaming tortillas that he relaxed and stretched his waist, looking at Olosh beside him.

"So, in this battle, we lost more than 1,500 soldiers, defeated 30,000 Chapala legions, and captured more than 10,000 prisoners?"

The majestic jaguar warrior nodded. He looked at the young commander with a calm expression, and said with a relieved smile.

"This is a divinely blessed victory, and it is also an epic that will be sung and eulogized! Nearly 50,000 soldiers lined up for a decisive battle on the plain, shouting loudly, and even the flying birds were scared to fall by the sound of fighting! Well, The poets can write down the poems: The Lord God watched the battlefield of God’s battle, and blessed His Highness who was inspired by God. He sent down the mighty thunder and gave the Mexica people the doomed victory!”

After laughing, Olosh recalled what he had seen and heard in the battle, and made a brief summary.

"The Chapala Legion is actually quite brave, and the militiamen are as fearless as the descendants of dogs. It was only when the wolves were commanded by the fox that they were destroyed in the first battle and completely collapsed. Less than one-third of the 30,000 enemy troops could escape back to the lake area One, that is, the 3,000 warriors of the Feather Legion, and more than 6,000 militiamen who have lost their fighting spirit. After this battle, the Chapala Lake District can no longer pose any threat to the rear!"

Shulot thought for a while and smiled knowingly. After experiencing this big defeat, the Chapala Lake District will experience violent internal turmoil and external chaos, and it will be overwhelmed from then on.

The Yu family who fled back was mainly responsible for the defeat, but was the only commander who retained the main force of the samurai, leaving him with few choices. And no matter whether the envoys sent played a sufficient role, when the news of the destruction of the main force in the lake area came out, the Guamal dog descendants who migrated in the north and the Tekos tribe who resisted in the west would inevitably respond and attack the weakest enemy.

"Then, about 10,000 enemy troops were seriously injured or killed in battle, and the warriors did not count carefully. We have no extra wound medicine. If the injured Chapala cannot walk on their own, they will always return to dust. sacrifice."

Shulot nodded calmly. On the battlefields of the Middle Ages, there was a lack of medicine and transportation capabilities, and serious injuries meant death. Even the samurai of one's own side, if there is no special status, it is often the case, not to mention the captured enemy.

"The last more than 10,000 enemy troops are now our surrendered troops or prisoners. In the camp, there are about 3,000 Chapala warriors who were captured and surrendered, including the Sky Army Corps. There are two thousand skilled archers in the militia, they are rare elites and worthy of use."

"The remaining 6,000 Chapala militiamen are a huge problem. They will create too much burden on logistics, and they are also an extremely unstable young group that needs enough manpower to suppress them."

Having said that, Olosh paused slightly. He looked at the resolute young commander, with indifference that ignored life and death in his eyes, and coldness that did not hide in his words.

"According to the alliance's usual practice, when the army is out in the field, once a big victory is won and there are too many prisoners, they will sacrifice their lives on the spot after the battle. I will sacrifice my life to the Lord God, and thank the God of War for his blessing!"

Hearing this, Shulot lowered his eyes slightly, and the balance in his heart swayed from side to side, constantly weighing.

Logistics is always the biggest pressure for the expedition. The hinterland of Tarasco has been confiscated by the enemy. Apart from the solid noble manors, the countryside is full of refugees, old and young, and the weeds of the farmland. The long supply line starts from the capital in the lake, goes down the river, passes through the estuary fortress, and then reaches the Huayamo fortress at the forefront. Every piece of food delivered to the front line is very precious, which is the basis for the legion to go out.

At this moment, these 10,000 unstable captives caused even more trouble to the Legion than when they were enemies.

After a while, Xiulot shook his head and made up his mind.

"Olosh, the religion is reforming, and the Lord God wants to show mercy. If the alliance wants to establish a firm rule here, it can't leave too much bloody hatred. Killing the captives will be done once and for all, but it will lose the hearts of the people. Since I stand on the high ground On the mountain, you should focus on the distance. It is better to let the captured militia go and let them spread the bravery and kindness of the Legion to the distant Chapala Lake area."

Olosh first promised loudly. Then, he frowned slightly and suggested in a low voice.

"Your Highness, simply letting the captives go may not have the effect you expected. The sun is burning with blood, and the light and killing go hand in hand. We always have to screen the captives and reward or punish them."

Shulot groaned for a while, and finally looked serious, and ordered loudly.

"Then summon the priests accompanying the army, sacrifice the wounded of the enemy army, and hold a grand conversion ceremony for the captives! I will personally officiate, with Etalik and Natalie as deputy, and then let the religious warriors participate. Let Eze Pan told the militiamen that as long as they believe in the Lord God, they will be blessed by God, and they can be released tolerantly! If they don’t want to convert, they will be dealt with according to the usual practice.”

Hearing this, Olosh saluted respectfully, bowed his head to accept the order, turned around and strode away.

Soon, the priests built a high platform, lit a raging holy fire, and sang simple songs. And the religious warriors are wearing armor and holding sharp, with fanatic faces, forming a broad circle. This is the opening of the god sacrifice ceremony.

Crying and howling in terror, the Chapala captives were escorted by thousands of Mexica warriors to the camp where the ceremony was held. Then, the Tarascos who had already surrendered came forward. They used the accent of the Lake District to appease the captives of Chapala, and relayed His Highness's will: as long as you convert devoutly, you can be forgiven!

The captives slowly fell silent. The holy chant was carried on the wind, as far as the Lake District. When the sun rose to the sky, Shulot wore solemn sacrificial clothes, climbed to the highest altar, and chanted ancient sacrificial verses.

Then, the faint blue holy fire was lit, and the priests prayed loudly to the main god and danced wildly. The warriors brandished their weapons, tapped their shields, and shouted wildly. Finally, the gunners ignited the fuses of the wooden cannons, causing the god-given weapon to emit thunder again, resounding throughout the world! Amidst the shocking thunder, tens of thousands of captives prostrated themselves in horror. They bowed to the flame of the main god, to the roaring wooden beast, and to the priest on the altar, bowing down in fear.

Then the temple guard blows the death whistle announcing the offerings. The God Bless warriors then walked steadily, dragging thousands of wounded enemy warriors and hundreds of captured Chapala nobles. They are merciless, waving sacrificial daggers in front of the holy fire, letting vitality flow and returning life to the earth. The priests used the blood of the Baiyin family to mix converted blood wine, placed it around the holy fire, and then summoned the sky warriors in the front row.

During the grand and exciting ceremony, Horta was the first to step forward with trepidation. He raised his head in fear, looked at the glorious and solemn Highness on the high platform, then lowered his head and drank the blood wine. The strong fishy smell melted in his mouth, it was the taste of a glorious nobleman, and it was also the ending of the Baiyin family. Thinking of this, he couldn't help shaking his hands and feet, knelt down in front of the holy fire, and handed his hair to the priest in front of him.

The old priest swung an obsidian dagger, cut off the head of the Sky Patriarch, and threw it into the blue fire. Burnt smoke rose up, and took away part of the soul of the young Patriarch. The old priest smiled kindly and said a short prayer. Horta followed the words that seemed to possess magical power, and sang to the sun in the sky, singing the praises of the Supreme Lord God.

"Praise the Lord God Vitzilopochtli! He is supreme and omnipotent. Those who believe in God will be saved. No matter where he was born or what bloodline he is."

In the irritating smoke, Horta burst into tears and read the last sentence in a trance. Afterwards, two thousand sky warriors who surrendered stepped forward one by one, drank wine and cut their hair, converted to salute. They followed the successor Patriarch, and since then they have pledged allegiance to the Alliance and devoted themselves to the embrace of the Lord God.

Only a few dozens of warriors refused to convert, and were immediately dragged away by the temple guards and sacrificed to death. The same happened to warriors who refused to surrender. The low screams were drowned in the high prayers, and passed away without a trace.

After the Chapala warriors came the captured militiamen. The militiamen saw the end of the refusal, and they were full of longing to go home. Most of them obediently converted to the Lord God, knelt on the ground in awe, chanted inaccurate names of gods, and prayed to the blazing flames.

The conversion ceremony is grand and long, accompanied by gradually louder chanting. Until the sun slanted west, the name of the main god "Vizilopochtli" resounded in the field and deeply engraved in everyone's heart!

Shulot stood for half a day, but now he sat down cross-legged. His expression was solemn, like a sacred sculpture, and he didn't say extra words. Olosh replaced him and announced loudly: The captured Chapala militiamen have all converted to the glory of the Lord God. Except for the archers, the remaining 6,000 captives will be released on the spot as promised!

Subsequently, the surrounding Mexica warriors separated left and right, leaving a passage to the west. Seeing that the release came as promised, the Chapala militiamen couldn't believe it, and no one dared to move for a while. They looked at each other, with complex emotions changing on their faces, urging each other with their eyes.

Ezpan repeated it again in Tarasco dialect, asking the militiamen not to flee to the south, but to go west to their hometown.

Only then did a bold prisoner get up. He chanted the name of the main god aloud, looked around nervously, walked out of the crowd step by step, until he was more than ten steps away from the Mexica warriors, and suddenly ran towards the west at high speed.

Seeing this scene, the prisoners in the camp were silent. They looked anxiously at the surrounding warriors, making sure that no one was dispatched to arrest them, or raised their bows to shoot arrows, and then suddenly became agitated. The Chapala militiamen walked with their heads bowed, chanting the newly learned name of the main god, as if chanting a charm for protection. Like a frightened herd of deer, they scatter in groups and scatter in all directions, and then flee westward at full speed until they become dots on the horizon.

Horta knelt on the ground, looking at the militiamen heading west, showing deep envy. Then, he glanced at the smiling Highness on the high platform again, and suddenly felt a little intimacy and a little inexplicable trust.

"Perhaps, it would be the right choice to be loyal to the Alliance and follow His Highness."

The young Patriarch of the Sky lowered his head, held the sun amulet around his neck, and prayed softly, this is a gift from His Highness.

Xiulot smiled and watched the six thousand militiamen chanting the name of God and being released one after another.

He knew that most of the Chapalans were only in awe for a while, and if they could escape to their hometown, they would restore their belief in the three gods. However, this experience will be like a seed, planted in their hearts, waiting for the changes of the times to germinate in a certain day in the future. It is also like a brand, engraved deep in the souls of militiamen, forever distinguishing them from those around them.

"After solving the threat from the rear and dealing with the current affairs, it's time to go south to the capital!"

Xiulot stood up. His eyes were piercing, looking towards the southeast sky.

From the battlefield to the southeast, only a few days away from the battlefield, is Qincongcan, the capital of Tarasco. Many soldiers of Chapala's army fled. The result of this war will spread rapidly across the capital, across the south, and then to the southeast front. The battle situation will change again, and new fighters will arrive.

Afterwards, Shulot turned around, looked at the way from the northeast, and calmly walked down the high platform amidst the cheers of the warriors. If you punch out hard and break the enemy's arm, you must quickly retract it, saving the next wave of offensive. And the next attack will be the enemy's vital point!

On the second day, the main force of 20,000 Mexica marched northward. Under the watchful eyes of Tarasco scouts, they returned to Huayamo Fortress in the northeast with 5,000 surrendered troops. For more than ten days, the army has been constantly training and dispatching, maintaining a minimum level of contact with Qincong Cancheng, a hundred miles away to the south.

But in the southeast of Qin Congcan, outside the small city of Patzquale, the traces of the Mexica army became more and more active. The longbow hunters kept attacking the peasants transporting food, but the capital of Tarasco lacked warriors and had no soldiers to send. When the warm March comes with the spring breeze, the food road to the southeast will soon be difficult to maintain!

Resume update. Orz, bow your head and salute everyone, happy holidays!