Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!

"Chieftain, the Canine Descendants are scattering in defeat!"

The sun dipped low in the west, reddening the yellow leaves among the mountains. Chieftain Mespa, dressed as an ordinary warrior in cotton armor, took two steps to climb the nearest knoll. While he listened to the family samurai's report, his gaze stretched toward the distant battlefield.

A couple of miles away, the Red Dog's banners wavered in retreat to the north, and red-haired figures fled in panic. Mespa finally let out a satisfied laugh.

"Ha-ha! After a persistent chase, we've finally caught the wild dogs by the tail! Send the order down, all the samurai in the front rush for me! The samurai in the rear quicken your pace, pay no mind to the fleeing troops along the way. Whoever captures the barbarians' leader, I will reward him with two hundred acres of good farmland from the valley's fief!"

"At your command, Chieftain!"

The family samurai bowed to receive the command. Then, hesitating, he spoke in a low voice to offer counsel.

"Chieftain, the Otapan legion is ten miles away, clearing out the remaining enemies. The Mexica legion is further behind, taking surrendering prisoners. Here, only our two thousand Pamus samurai and a few hundred subdued barbarians are in pursuit... Shouldn't we slow down and wait for the rear troops to catch up before pressing the attack?"

"Wait for what! The legion's morale is peaking, and the barbarians have already scattered. Pamus Valley is just twenty miles to the north. The samurai's hometown, the nobility's fief, are all within sight! This is the time to pursue them relentlessly, how can we allow the enemy to regroup and rally their forces!"

Mespa's expression changed, and he burst out angrily. Then, he looked around at his confidants and lowered his voice in their presence.

"Besides, we have not made any remarkable achievements during this northern campaign. Once the Canine Descendants are expelled, and the states discuss merits and rewards, if we don't have enough military achievements... how will our Pamus nobility manage to secure our domestic fiefs without outsiders meddling!"

"Chieftain... I will follow your orders."

Hearing this, the family samurai nodded helplessly. He bowed to the ground, then left with the orders.

Half a mile away, Amoxtli silently lay in the forest. He watched the samurai bowing on the knoll, exhaling heavily.

"I've searched for so long, and finally, I've found you!"

Amoxtli gripped the bow and arrows beneath him and squinted. He extended a hand to measure, then quickly furrowed his brow.

"At this distance, if I shoot my arrow..."

Amoxtli pursed his lips, then turned to look at his companion.

"Alan, that stocky samurai there, could very well be the opposing leader... Yes, the one just bowed to, the one now walking this way... When he reaches the path directly below the hill, are you confident you can hit him?"

"Dad, no problem."

Alan was dressed in a tight short garment, with straps tied tightly around the impeding parts. She squinted one eye, measured with two fingers, and nodded affirmatively.

"Where should I shoot?

"Uh, where should I shoot?"

Amoxtli paused, bewildered. Could one even choose? It seemed Alan's archery skills far surpassed his own.

"Shoot... wherever you have the greatest certainty."

He thought for a moment, then added.

"Alan, I will charge out with the warriors to attract the attention of the escort samurai! Don't rush, wait for the best moment!"

"Okay!"

The silence settled again in the woods, leaving only the subdued sound of breathing. As Mespa approached self-assuredly, walking toward the narrow mountain path, his expression suddenly changed.

"Kill!"

Amoxtli roared, leading several dozens of elite fighters surging out from the woods. Mespa took two steps back and swiftly gestured. Dozens of his family samurai charged forward, clashing with the ambushing enemies.

"Whiz!"

In that brief lull, a Bone Arrow suddenly shot out! In the blink of an eye, the Bone Arrow crossed sixty paces, its deathly whistle in the air!

"Ah!..."

"Alan!"

The evening breeze mournful, the night song lamentable. The red sky embraced the horizon, and fresh blood saturated the soil. Soon, the deep night swallowed all the red hue. Darkness crept southward, halting at last in front of the large tent in the mountains.

"Your Highness!"

Bertade lifted the tent flap and strode in, then calmly bowed his head in respect. He swept a glance at an old acquaintance in the corner who had clearly just arrived not long ago.

"Hmm?"

The discussing voices in the tent came to an abrupt halt. Xiulote lifted his head toward the Head Warrior who had directly entered the tent and greeted him with a faint smile.

"What's the matter?"

"Your Highness, the pursuing Pamus legion has fallen into an ambush."

At that point, Bertade paused, his expression somewhat complex.

"Chieftain Mespa has been assassinated by an ambushing redhead Hunter on the spot. The Pamus legion subsequently scattered. The Otapan legion urgently struck out to rescue. Up to this point, out of the two thousand Pamus samurai, only half escaped!"

"Another feigned retreat leading to an ambush. Aquili fell victim to such a trap and died, Jiowar faced an intense battle when ambushed, Quino was captured in an ambush, and now Mespa died in combat from an ambush... such a foolproof tactic."

Hearing the Head Warrior's report, Xiulote shook his head, yet his expression remained unchanged.

The strategy of feigned retreat leading to an ambush, though simplistic, was foolproof against undisciplined adversaries. To effectively employ it required tremendous mobility and flexibility from the troops; it was a quintessential tactic of nomadic horsemen and bandit camps. More than a century later, the peasant armies of the late Ming Dynasty would similarly employ this tactic, defeating the formation-skilled official army on numerous occasions.

The King fell into a moment of contemplation, a faint smile playing on his face. He looked at the Head Warrior and asked calmly.

"Pamus City was originally Mespa's fiefdom, right?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

Bertade nodded in understanding. He took another glance at the corner, then spoke solemnly.

"When the Guajili people moved southward, the Red Dog Tribe advanced quickly. Chieftain Mespa abandoned his family, taking only his eldest son and a few loyalists to flee southward. Now with Mespa's eldest son fallen in the Red Fox Valley and Chieftain Mespa tragically perished here... Pamus City is now without a master."

Xiulote nodded and continued.

"How many of the Pamus nobility remain?"

"Your Highness, the Pamus nobility leading the troops was targeted and decimated by the Red-haired Hunter, with few survivors. When the Canine Descendants headed south, the slaughter was extreme... The entire Pamus Valley has almost become a land without masters,"

"Hmm."

Xiulote lowered his gaze, nodding slightly. Then, he asked, as if it were an afterthought,

"How is the rest and refitting of Jiowar's Otapan legion going?"

"Your Highness, the Otapan legion's rest and refitting have been completed. Despite significant losses through numerous battles, the mountain city legion's morale remains high... and they are now fully under the Prince's control,"

Bertade smiled quietly, the meaning profound.

"Very good!"

Xiulote smiled and calmly gave his orders,

"Since that is the case, move the Pamus legion to the rear! Let the Guamare legion take their place, pursuing day and night, putting pressure on the Canine Descendants. The main force of the Imperial Guard Legion continues to press steadily at the back."

In just a few words, the King decided the fate of many. He then turned to the figure kneeling in the corner and said with a gentle smile,

"Well, it seems that the orders I gave you earlier need to be slightly changed. Now, the Pamus Valley can be directly incorporated into the kingdom's domains. After reclaiming the Pamus Valley, you will be the City Lord of Pamus City. I also will establish a Northern Land legion, and you will be the Legion Commander. Establishing rule in the Northern Land requires sufficient military force..."

"Yes! Your Highness, I will follow Your will,"

The figure prostrated, following the ritual for meeting the King, bowing reverently nine times. Then, he lay prostrate without moving, chanting a poetic hymn in a deep voice,

"Holy Your Highness, you are a valiant eagle bathed in the miraculous red sun, bestowing light upon the Northern Land!... It is a wilderness devoid of green trees and life, ancient through thousands of years of ignorance. Yet, by your arrival, it has blossomed with brilliant flowers, giving birth to a dense vitality!... Your Highness, you are the Northern Land's red glow! I will follow the guidance of the light, forever groveling at your feet!"

"Ha ha, not a bad poem, arise!"

Xiulote burst out laughing. He reached out his hand, gripping the other man's hair forcefully, then personally helped him up.

"The greater the setback a poet faces, the more touching the poetry he writes. Balamo, it seems you have indeed experienced many hardships over the years!"

Upon hearing this, Balamo slowly lifted his head, revealing a weathered face and a pair of exceptionally profound eyes. Listening to His Highness's words, a bittersweet smile of experience appeared on his face,

"Your Highness, I have been in the wilderness for over three years. I've eaten countless mouthfuls of windblown sand, seen innumerable mountain ranges, and even encountered the white scourge of the gods. Day and night, even in my dreams, I waited for your summons! The moment your Envoy delivered the edict, I rushed to the altar at once, praying to the Chief Divine, praising your grace!"

"Oh?"

Xiulote smiled faintly, noncommittally.

"I heard that when the Envoy arrived, he couldn't find you at first. And you were in the tent of a Guamare noblewoman?"

"Ah, this! Your Highness, I was following your divine will, spreading the faith of the Chief Divine! The glory of the Chief Divine has taken root in every part of Guamare. Many female leaders who control the tribes have become devout followers of the Chief Divine!..."

At these words, Balamo's face twitched, then he looked sincerely mournful and answered,

"For the light of the Chief Divine, I am willing to give everything! Even if it means undergoing physical suffering, I must ignite the Sacred Fire of brightness in the barbaric hearts!..."

"Enough."

Xiulote put away his smile and waved his hand. Balamo immediately shut up and bowed to listen. The king turned to the Head Warrior, his expression turning solemn.

"How many are the Guajili people ambushing the Pamus legion, and how many tribes are there?"

"According to the reports from the scouts of the Red Frog Tribe, the enemy numbers between three to five thousand warriors, nearly a thousand of them with red hair. The main tribe flags are those of the Red Dog, Red Monkey, and Red Crow."

"The main forces of the Red Dog have been beaten yet not scattered, and now they can still organize a counterattack. Chichika could be considered a valorous hero."

Xiulote commended with a phrase. Then, he became somewhat puzzled.

"The Red Crow Tribe? I remember, is that not the small tribe that escaped from the Red Fox Valley?"

"Yes, Your Highness. The Red Crow Tribe fled to the east and became a vassal to the Red Dog Tribe. Their number of warriors is not high, but their archery is extremely good. The hunters who ambushed the great chieftain of Mespa were from the Red Crow!"

"Hmm."

Xiulote nodded his head. He always remembered the prophecy of the old priest of the Red Crow and thus had an impression of this small tribe. The king pondered for a while and then spoke again.

"The Red Monkey Tribe... It was this tribe that captured General Qipa and then quietly brought him to the main camp, right?"

"Yes, Your Highness. The chieftain of the Red Monkey Tribe, Ozoma, seems to have an in-depth understanding of the Alliance. He is not a stubborn frog in a well, but more like a flexible water serpent in a lake," Bertade replied softly.

"Hmm. A flexible water serpent... How is Qipa's injury? Has it healed?"

The king nodded with understanding and calmly inquired.

"He has been in the rear camp, and his injury has healed," was the reply.

"Good, summon him here," Xiulote decided. Then, he turned around, looking at Balamo with a light smile.

"Balamo, my poet commander. Before your moment of glory arises, there is one small trial."

Upon hearing this, Balamo's heart tightened. He promptly knelt down and respectfully stated his position.

"Your Highness, I am ready to die for you!"

"Come closer."

Xiulote gestured, and the poet commander crawled forward on his knees. Seeing this, the king raised an eyebrow and quietly conveyed his will.

The night sky, like a heavy net, enshrouded everything within. In the tent, the bonfire gradually dimmed, shadows flitted by and left. When everything returned to stillness, the king stood in the shadow of the bonfire, gazing up at the vast expanse of stars.

The constellation of Libra in the autumn sky sketched out a radiant diamond on the path of the sun's journey, flickering as if symbolizing a measure of human hearts.

Xiulote watched alone for a long time, remembering arrangements made since beginning the northern campaign, feeling emotional turbulence, yet he spoke to himself calmly.

"The northern campaign, it's for ruling the Northern Land, not for expelling the Canine Descendants... The Otomi nobility that obstructs my rule must die in this war; the Guajili tribes that will be beneficial to rule will be preserved after the war. War is merely the continuation of politics, serving the purpose of governance… Such is the true meaning of 'those who comply shall live, those who resist shall die!'"