Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!

The night was dusky, and the Congo River surged mightily, its raging currents hidden as clouds obscured the moon. Three caravels dropped their hefty anchors, mooring at the river's edge, spaced a hundred meters apart. Tiny torches sparked to life aboard the ships, illuminating the fluttering Portuguese flags, and also the watchful sailors on night duty.

For the Portuguese exploration fleet, sailing at night in an unfamiliar inland waterway was extremely dangerous. Thus, Captain Diogo Cao, as always, had given the order to berth in place and assigned Sailor Chief Diego to stand guard.

"Foda-se! This place really is the land of demons! It was clear during the day, but at night, you can't even see a hint of the moon! Hmph, huh!"

A captain's guard squatted on a wooden plank at the bow, his pants down, his bare buttocks facing the outside of the ship.

Clearly, it was a necessary task. But aboard a caravel of the great Age of Sail, such matters were not straightforward, even requiring a certain level of skill. At that moment, the guard's hands gripped a rope tightly to maintain his balance. The wooden plank beneath his feet stood horizontally suspended in mid-air, swaying periodically. And beneath the swaying plank flowed the deep, ever-passing Congo River.

"Foda-se! Even shitting attracts so many mosquitoes! I'm sick of this life!"

Another voice came from nearby, belonging to another captain's guard. He held a rope with one hand while furiously slapping his rear with the other. Tropical mosquitoes, drawn by the scent, converged and persistently tried for a more intimate contact but were impossible to dispel.

"Damn it! Tulio, the food tonight must've been rotten! My legs are about to go numb from squatting!"

Aboard a seafaring ship, eating moldy food was common. But if one got diarrhea, that was "bad mold."

"Martin and the others got diarrhea too, they've been running out all night long! Damn Head Cook Haroldo! I'm going to smear the rope I wiped my ass with across his fat face!"

Yes, please don't be shocked; the toilet tool on the ship was indeed a rope, and quite a sturdy hemp rope at that. Using it would typically be a very "raw" experience, but the sailors had gotten used to it over time. If they were out at sea, they would improvise with various freshly caught sea creatures. The soft feeling of those was comfortably unforgettable.

"Ah! When can we head back! Endless trees, an endless river, endless swarms of mosquitoes, crew members continually tainted by demons... This green hell is like a nightmare!"

"Shh! Sounds like someone's coming."

The conversation between the two captain's guards came to an abrupt halt. They both looked ahead, watching several torches flickering closer. The guards grabbed the ropes with one hand, the other hand resting on the daggers at their waists. Even while relieving themselves, they hadn't put down their weapons.

"Diego?"

One guard called out cautiously.

"It's me!"

The torches grew closer, revealing Sailor Chief Diego's face, flanked by two other sailors on night duty. Diego's face was etched with suffering. He walked briskly, hunched over in pain and clutching his abdomen with his right hand.

"Come on, guys, make some room. Let me squeeze in a spot. Foda-se! Damn Head Cook, what kind of shitty dinner did he make! I'm gonna stuff his head up his ass!"

"Haha!"

The two captain's guards relaxed and removed their hands from their daggers, laughing in agreement. Then one guard, eyeing Diego as he approached quickly, muttered discontentedly.

"Foda-se! Can't you set up your own plank?"

"Ah, I just can't wait any longer!"

Mid-conversation, Diego had already come within a couple of steps with his men. The torchlight grew brighter, and as the talking guard stared at Diego, his expression suddenly changed! He clearly saw a metallic gleam flashing in Diego's right hand, which was pressed against his stomach.

"You!...Ergh! Heh heh..."

At the guard's hushed cry, Diego stepped forward menacingly. His right hand, swift as lightning, extended the dagger hidden in his grasp, then violently slashed across the other man's neck!

"Slash!"

Blood spurted instantly. The guard's cry choked in his throat, turning into a haunting groan. Diego swung the dagger again, severing the fingers that clutched the rope, then kicked the guard in front of him into the Congo River. Almost simultaneously, the two sailors on night duty took out the other guard, followed by a "plop" in the water.

The pungent smell of blood spread through the air, as large swarms of mosquitoes rushed toward the river surface. The "driftwood" floating in the river also came to life, opening their gaping maws and swimming over. Within just a few minutes, the guards' bodies had disappeared.

Watching the blood-stained water, Diego grinned, sticking out his tongue to lick the blood off his dagger, shouting in excitement.

"Ah, I just can't wait any longer!"

In the vast night, the fires blazed dimly. The crew was in motion, and soon enough, a sailor with a joyous expression hurried over.

"Boss, the other four captain's guards have been taken care of! Ivo has locked the Sailing Master Reinaldo and that scholar in their cabin! Matim and Bruno have secured the lower deck, leaving a few to keep watch. Now everyone's gathered near the deck entrance, waiting for you!"

"Haha, I just can't wait any longer!"

Diego licked his tongue excitedly, scampering like a wolfhound to join them. Quickly, he saw the four leaders above the deck entrance. Bruno looked solemn, Matim was all smiles, Ivo appeared anxious, and Haroldo still cowered. The remaining dozen or so sailors waited nervously below deck.