Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!

The autumn wind rustled through the valley, turning the sparse trees of the wilderness yellow and bringing with it an air of chilling solemnity. After the Great Chief of Chichika fell in battle, the Guajili Tribes all lost their will to fight. In the days that followed, the Mexica legion marched swiftly northwards, pursuing the fleeing enemy and accepting surrenders.

Red Monkey Chieftain Ozoma did not break his word. He left and returned the next day with Red Deer Chieftain Masate and offered up Pamus City at the center of the valley.

Guided by the two Guajili chieftains, Xiulote led his personal army slowly northward, nearing a fertile valley that spanned dozens of miles. The Black Wolf's banner flew high, and thousands of Armored Warriors bore a stern visage. They passed harvested fields and tribes whose people lay prostrate in fear, eventually arriving at an ancient and rudimentary town.

The town wasn't small, yet it wasn't strictly a city. It resembled more a large tribal encampment. It was encircled by a single man-high wall and an additional fence. The low city walls weren't fully closed off, leaving a large gap to the west. By this opening wound a meandering river, with thousands of acres of farmland developed along its banks. The farmland had no channels, solely dependent on mountain streams, now full of yellowing straw.

"The defenses are rough, the terrain open, with no city walls to rely on, no wonder Chichika held the valley's entrance so dearly..."

Xiulote halted in front of the small town, observing it carefully for a long while before asking in a deep voice.

"Is this Pamus City?"

"Yes, respected God of Death Great Chief!"

Ozoma stood by his side, his expression respectful.

"It is the last city on the thousands of miles of wilderness in the north. Further north from here lies the Sattescas wilderness, where our Guajili people have lived for generations. The wilderness spans over two thousand miles, inhabited mostly by nomadic hunting and gathering tribes. To the northeast lies the tribes along the Bravo River, and to the northwest, those along the Concho River. Further north, I heard there are countless hunting tribes, only familiar to the elderly wilderness priests..."

Xiulote listened to Ozoma's narration and slowly nodded. He gazed silently to the north, where the brown mountains undulated and stretched, spotted with green cacti extending seemingly to the end of the world.

The Bravo River is later known as North America's fifth-longest river, the Grande River (Rio Grande), originating from the Colorado Mountains and stretching over three thousand kilometers. The upper reaches of the river pass through New Mexico, while its two thousand kilometers downstream serve as a natural border between America and Mexico. Along its banks are many hunting-gathering tribes, later collectively known in history as the Southwest Native American tribes.

Among them, many tribes were recorded in history for resisting Yankee expansion and persist through to modern times. The river's upper streams housed the Navajo near the Great Basin, the valiant Apache, and the Mescalero in the mountain forests; downstream resided the Toboso who resembled the Canine Descendants, the Lipan at the boundaries of the Great Plains, and the Coahuiltec by the Caribbean Sea.

The tribes along the river's upper streams mostly relied on hunting for survival, known for their nimbleness and fierceness. The further down the river one traveled, the higher the proportion of gathering tribes became, and by the Caribbean coast, nearly all were agricultural tribes, generally more docile in temperament.

The western Concho River is a southwestern tributary of the upper Grande River. It also housed countless hunting tribes. The Opata, Pima, Tarahumar, Jumano, and the Concho in close proximity to the eight Canine Descendant tribes...

Thinking of this, Xiulote slightly bowed his head. Too many North American Indian tribes perished under the cruel expansion of Yankee settlers. Millions of native ethnic groups were forcibly relocated, exterminated, and even erased without a trace by history's scribes. Having come here now, as a king among the natives, he was determined to change all this, no matter how long it took!

In this era, to traverse the endless forests, prairies, and deserts deep into the wild, untamed North American continent, it was impractical to rely on tough land routes. Only three great rivers provided a clear path: the northern Great River, Saint Lawrence River, and the Great Lakes region, the central southern long river, Mississippi River basin, and the southwestern long river, Grande River basin.

"Only by relying on these three great rivers can one connect with the North American Indian tribes, spread religious beliefs, establish trade routes, and even build relations of subjugation to oppose the continuous western colonizers. But the Saint Lawrence River is too remote, the Mississippi River too difficult, leaving only the Grande River right before us."

Xiulote's thoughts soared into the distance, envisioning the epochs long gone. One who does not plan for the eternity is not adequate to plan a moment; those who do not consider the whole scenario cannot plan a single area. For this vast continent, he harbored too many aspirations, too many plans, too many ambitions... Yet, that would be far in the future.

Every journey begins with a single step. For now, this modest Pamus City marked the northernmost reach of the Black Wolf's royal banner in this campaign.

Thousands of trusted aides first entered the city to establish defenses. Following that, Bertade emerged from the city, nodding to indicate safety, and then the Black Wolf's royal banner moved again.

Xiulote entered the city, encountering low-thatched houses and extensive shelters. In the corners of the city were scattered farmlands and domesticated turkeys. Along the muddy roads, thousands of the Canine Descendants Tribes kneeled, welcoming the arrival of the God of Death Great Chief. The Great Chief walked to the city's center before encountering the first stone building, a small and dilapidated temple.

In front of the temple was a wide square, at the center of which stood a newly built wilderness sacrificial altar. Various red flags inserted below the altar, surrounded by piles of cattle skulls and abstract, bizarre wooden carvings.

"This is the grand altar constructed by the orders of Zuma Priest. It was originally prepared for the sacred wilderness grand sacrifice, to offer all agricultural slaves and captives."

Ozoma kept an eye on the Great Chief's expression, timely explaining.

Xiulote examined the altar's structure and slightly nodded. Scouts had already reported back the happenings within the city days earlier.

"Good! This altar fits the wilderness traditions, as long as the Chief Divine's emblem is added, it can serve as the altar for the Chief Divine's grand sacrifice. Chichika's bustling activity not only constructed an altar for themselves but also saved me a lot of effort."

The King smiled, then looked around and commanded loudly.

"Place the Chief Divine's banner on the altar! Then adorn it with the 'gemstones' produced by the Kingdom. War Priests should prepare the Sacred Fire and the Blood Wine in advance, I want to combine the ceremony of religious conversion with the grand sacrificial rite!"

"Praise the Chief Divine! Praise the Supreme High Priest of the Divine Revelation!"

The Priests accompanying the army bowed in response and immediately began preparations. Ever since the Kingdom began to mass-produce 'gemstones', the ritual ceremonies had been much simplified. The Priesthood no longer needed to carry heavy gold and silver utensils, and could instead use hundreds of pounds of 'gemstones' as substitutes. There were so many Kingdom-fired 'gemstones' that they couldn't be sold off all at once and were hence used in sacrificial ceremonies and noble burials.

"Where are the agricultural slaves and captives in the city now? Take me to them!"

After arranging everything, Xiulote looked towards Ozoma again. The Red Monkey Chieftain bowed his head and continued to lead the way. Soon, in a corner of the city, a lifeless camp appeared before everyone.

"Great Chief, here are the agricultural slaves and captives from various tribes, totaling about six thousand. They were originally prepared as sacrifices, but were not dealt with in time when the tribes dispersed..."

Ozoma pointed nervously towards the camp, his expression partly anxious.

Outside the camp, hundreds of Canine Warriors guarded, now casting aside their weapons and kneeling on the ground. Through the fence, Xiulote gazed at the thousands of people inside the camp. Their expressions were numb, their clothes ragged, terribly emaciated. The Canine leaders merely shouted a few commands, and they cowered on the ground, too afraid to look at the Armored Warriors.

Tens of thousands of Otomi had settled in the valleys of Pamus, and now only these six thousand able-bodied men and women remained. Beyond the more extensive valley wilderness, the fields had long been abandoned, and the villages lay completely silent.

"Conquer the city through war, fill the city with corpses... Pamus City has been cleansed,"

Xiulote shook his head. Most of the Otomi nobility in the valley were dead, and the rest would be reassigned around Red Fox Valley. Pamus City would be designated as a direct territory of the Kingdom, and the agricultural slaves and captives would be reinstated as citizens to toil for the Kingdom. As for the few Otomi nobles among the captives, the Kingdom would partially recognize their status and reassign them elsewhere.

Thinking this, the King glanced at Ozoma and spoke in a deep voice.

"I said that the surrendered Guajili tribes will not be sacrificed."

Hearing this, Ozoma finally breathed a sigh of relief. As long as the Kingdom did not seek retribution for the massacres of the Guajili tribes, everyone could surrender without any psychological burden, as loyalty was the same to whom it was pledged. The alliance to the south was not only wealthy and powerful but also far away. Waiting for the Mexica legion to move south, the situation in the Northern Land was still not...

"However, the surrendered Guajili tribes will be gathered and moved south in groups, crossing the Grande River and relocating to the hinterlands of the Kingdom! There lies more fertile land and plenty of water sources. As long as you submit to the Kingdom, all will be my citizens, and I will treat everyone equally!"

The King's words came again. The two Guajili Chieftains exchanged looks, their hearts chilled.

"Great Chief, our Guajili tribes have lived on the wilderness for generations, this is our root! Migrating south beyond the Great River..."

Ozoma's words abruptly stopped as Xiulote calmly turned his gaze towards him. His expression unchanging, he looked at the two men for a while before speaking indisputably.

"The Guajili tribes must migrate! The faith of the Chief Divine must be spread! Go, tell your tribes to prepare and welcome the ceremony of conversion in a few days!"

"... I will obey your command, my Wolf King."

Ozoma bowed to the ground momentarily, finally responding quietly. Masate's expression changed for a long time before he too firmly bowed to the ground.

"You may leave now!"

Xiulote waved his hand, and the two Chieftains left with their heads lowered. He then turned to his side, where the Head Warrior's expression was serene, his right hand still gripping the War Club.

"Bertade, I will rest in the city tonight. Organize the city's food supplies, withdraw some Priests and Warriors to pacify the agricultural slaves and captives in the camp. Dispatch envoys to have each tribe's leader come to pay homage to the Royal Banner!"

The Head Warrior nodded and strode off to arrange everything. Under the leadership of the two Great Chieftains, the Guajili tribes gradually surrendered and camped outside Pamus City. At this moment, the Allied Forces from the south stationed near the small city numbered over ten thousand, with about twenty thousand surrendered Canine Descendants Tribes, all of whom needed to be closely monitored.

The setting sun slowly descended, casting its afterglow over the vast land. The Pamus Valley was narrow and vast, with the distant sounds of slaughter still echoing from the east and west valley mouths, like the final notes of the northern conquest.

A red falcon spread its wings, soaring above the mountains. It glanced at the tribespeople fleeing in panic, then at the Warriors pursuing and surrounding them, and without turning back, it flew towards the northeast horizon. It knew that there lay more food, more tribes, and more rivers flowing into the boundless Great Lake.