Aztec Eternals

The sun is in the sky, shedding a scorching glow; the head hangs high, dripping drops of blood. Under the light and blood, more than ten thousand Tlaxcala prisoners were panicked and forced to gather in the center of the village. The sharp spear tip closed from all directions. A powerful warrior with a ruthless killing intent. Even the humid air seems to be filled with the smell of death.

"People of Tlaxcala! The supernatural power of the Lord God is the sun, the flame, and the light! He, in the highest cloud, shines on everything on the earth! And all resisters, rebels, unbelievers, and evil ones, are There is a dead end!"

Pimon stood before hundreds of warriors, spear in hand, facing tens of thousands of terrified Mothmen. He looked cold and stern, and shouted word by word in his not-so-fluent Nahua language.

"Your Majesty moved you to the south of the kingdom! There, you will get new fields and new huts. You will have enough food and be blessed by the Lord God! And as long as you dare to fight and fight bravely, the humble moth people will also have their own land. Opportunities to be promoted to warriors and even nobles! Such a bright future is a gift from His Majesty and a promise from God of War!"

Hearing this, the Tlaxcalans remained silent, with complicated expressions on their faces. Most of them are accustomed to obedience, fearing the force of the Mexica, and dare not have too many expectations. Similarly, His Royal Highness Mexica, in the name of the god of death, also brought them an ethereal awe.

However, when the noble descendants of the cloud snake god called the captives to riot, there were still many young and strong tribes who participated in it in a daze. The divine rule of the nobles has lasted for too long. ?

"Your Majesty is so merciful, and the Lord God is so majestic, yet some people don't know how to live or die!"

Having said that, Pimon stared angrily. He raised his spear angrily, pointed at the wooden pole in the center, and roared.

"Yesterday, a group of captives rioted and fled! Today, their heads are all here! Give them to me, and watch them carefully! Your Majesty is the incarnation of death. If you dare to defy, you will only end up in death." !"

A gust of mountain wind blew, and more than a hundred fresh heads swayed on the tall wooden poles. Most of their faces are full of fear. Their eyes were fixed and fixed, staring at the same terrified Tlaxcala captive.

"Now, I will give you a chance! Who participated in yesterday's riot? Stand up! Before the Lord God, I will give him an honorable death!"

The cold words echoed in the field. The noisy Tlaxcala prisoners fell silent for an instant. Many people lowered their heads, not daring to look at the Prepecha warriors around them. In the center of the entire square, a needle can almost be heard.

"Ha! The descendants of cloud snakes, are they so cowardly? Ha! They are simply weed rats in the mud, only hiding in the crevices, trembling! Bah! What noble snake descendants? They are humble ticks eating grass !"

"Ah! Damn it!"

Hearing such humiliation, a young noble warrior couldn't bear it anymore. He snarled, stood up abruptly, and strode out from the hidden crowd.

"Damn Western barbarians! The descendants of Cloud Snake are born noble! Even if I die, I will make your humiliation pay the price in blood!"

"Okay! As expected of the noble species of the Tlaxcalans, a true warrior! Who else? Is this the only warrior among the Tlaxcalans? If you dare not stand up now, then Get ready to go thousands of miles away and be a farming mothman!"

"And me! Cholulabang, the noble anaconda!"

Inspired by this, another strong man jumped out from the crowd. His movements are quick, and even with bare hands, he still has the power of a tiger. He is obviously a well-trained warrior.

"Let me be like a moth people, farming for the old enemy Aztecs, it is better to die here and return to the kingdom of God!"

"Good! A Dahlia-like warrior! Who else?"

"Me! Mountain City, Noble Flower Python!"

"Me! Water Valley City, Noble Viper!"

Soon, another eight or nine young noble warriors walked out of tens of thousands of young and strong captives, no longer hiding their identities. Each of them has divine blood, and has a natural appeal among the Tlaxcalans who respect the noble species.

"Okay, very good! What an admirable warrior!"

Pimen nodded with respect on his face. He looked around at the thousands of captives, waiting patiently.

"Is there any more? Are there any noble descendants of cloud snakes, and any real brave warriors?"

The cry that defies death is always few in number. Soon, the field was quiet again. The captives shut their mouths tightly, looking nervous, watching more than a dozen noble warriors who stood up, waiting for the gorgeous and destined ending.

"Then, the Lord God witnesses!"

Pimon stretched out his hand and grasped the sun amulet around his neck. With a serious expression on his face, he bowed slightly to the opposite warrior.

"This is a battle of reverence, a battle dedicated to the gods! The soul goes to the kingdom of God, death is not the end, glory belongs to the dead!"

"Give them a spear each! Then, kill them!"

The holy battle began soon, fierce, cruel and short. A dozen or so Tlaxcala nobles fought fiercely, roaring, and were overwhelmed by the forest of spears. Within half a quarter of an hour, more than a dozen wooden poles were erected, hanging heads with open eyes.

"This is a holy battle! The supreme Lord God will receive the souls of those who died in battle, and let them enjoy eternal happiness!"

Pimon dropped the broken spear, held the bloody hatchet, and prayed loudly. Then, he looked at the gloomy captives and shouted in a deep voice.

"All the noble descendants of cloud snakes bravely stood up and died here! And the rest are not worthy of being snake descendants!"

"."

No one responded, and no one dared to stand up. At this moment, it was as if a heavy hammer had fallen, hitting the hearts of the captives hard, smashing some last remnants to pieces.

Pimon held the hatchet and looked around. Feeling the spirit of the captives, he always felt that something was missing. What's the difference?

"More than 10,000 captives, but more than a hundred people were executed. How can the majesty of the Lord God be engraved in the bone marrow and remembered by everyone?"

Pimeng's eyes sharpened, and after a moment of thought, he pronounced the sentence again.

"The noble warriors who stood up just now came from seven migrating brigades, a total of a thousand people!"

Tens of thousands of captives were escorted south, and they would naturally be divided into many teams. Some of these teams are tribal remnants, some are in-law groups, and some are spontaneous organizations, ranging in number from dozens to hundreds.

In this era, with the management ability of the tribal warriors, it is impossible to go deep and understand all of them. In fact, the exact number of people in each team, even the leaders of each team, may not necessarily be clear.

"The alliance has long had a military order to hide the descendants of the gods, conspire against the rebels, and sacrifice all of them to death!"

Hearing this, Chivako, who was watching, shuddered and shivered all over. He smelled a strong smell of blood, which was a harbinger of death, so clear.

"Go, Eagles of Preepecha! Arrest all the young men of these seven teams, more than a thousand people!"

With a cold expression on his face, Pimon swung the copper ax forcefully. Red blood drops splashed from the blade of the axe and went straight into people's hearts.

"Let them identify each other, report the noble species among the tens of thousands of captives, and expose the young men who participated in the riot! One young man who is exposed is worth one life, and one noble species that is reported is worth ten lives! When the time is up, the rest Humans, all sacrifice to the Lord God, not one of them will be spared!"