Shulot led the warriors to trek west for two days and finally returned to Otopan's siege camp.
At this time, the dark clouds from the east had quietly arrived, covering the clear sky, and the first drizzle in months fell. This spring rain brought precious rain for the seeds of spring plowing, but left a damp shadow in the hearts of the warriors: the rainy season is approaching.
As soon as he returned to the camp, Shulot immediately found Avitt and talked to him about the ambush on the road. Then the two went together to report the military situation to Totec. The cold-hearted commander in chief looked at the captured bronze spears, arrows, and long wooden bows with a serious face, and nodded slowly.
"The Otomi may have been funded by the Tarascans and Tlaxcalans. This is a very critical news. Next, the two countries may personally participate in the war. I will report it to the king. It is time to think about it. Withdrawal is possible.”
Totec then patted Xilot on the shoulder: "Bring more warriors with you next time you go out. You are a priest, not a warrior!". After saying that, he turned around seriously and left.
That night, Tisok's angry scoldings echoed in the king's tent.
Seven months have passed since the siege of the city last September, and nearly 4,000 of the 50,000 elite warriors were killed. During this period, there was no glorious battle involving thousands of people, only continuous guerrilla fighting, acclimatization, food poisoning, disease injuries, and a failed siege.
Among the 60,000 militiamen in the camp and rear, there were also 6,000 to 7,000 casualties, most of which were lost during transportation in the mountains and forests and the guerrillas of the Otomi people.
During the seven-month war, due to the lack of food, the army did not capture many prisoners, and only more than 2,000 Otopan warriors were killed, of which 1,000 were fish caught under the city of Guamare. As for the killing of a large number of civilians, it is actually meaningless to glory.
The huge casualties made the city-states complain, and the minimal results made the warriors demoralized. These greatly reduced the king's popularity, and Tisok's prestige was at its lowest point. He urgently needed to win this siege, use the fall of Otopan to prove the king's correct judgment, and use the great feat of conquering the Otomi people to rebuild his prestige.
Seeing that Otopan only had about five months of food left, the dawn of victory was clearly visible. At this time, no matter what, the king will not give up easily. Also, the long wooden bows and copper weapons in the hands of the Otomi don't really prove anything. The king would rather believe that this was a coincidence and that the Otomi people purchased it from a merchant.
The war made the usually rational king a little crazy, and Totec was helpless.
The commander-in-chief could only put on a terrible face and ordered the scouts to be sent farther to monitor the movements of the Tarascans on the south bank at all times. As for the Tlaxcalans, the eastern Mexica city-states still maintain tens of thousands of troops, enough to deal with small-scale wars.
War never shifts to the will of one party, it is a game between two or more parties. The dominant Mexica army wanted a glorious victory, while the weak Otomi nobles wanted to avoid the fall of the mountain city and their own death at all costs. In this kind of confrontation, the lives of civilians are like falling leaves. When the wind picks up, they rustle down and easily fall into the soil.
After returning to the camp, Shulot finally slept peacefully for two days. He could keep the battles and sacrifices of the previous two days in his heart. That night, the mountain city in the distance suddenly became noisy, with chaotic shouts and shouts accompanied by the faint crowd, falling like fallen leaves, heading straight towards the Mexica camp.
Shulot woke up immediately. He got up, put on a robe, and looked at Bertard, who had already picked up his weapon. The two men immediately put on their armor, hurriedly gathered the warriors who followed them, and then came to the front camp to garrison.
Standing on the high platform of the front camp, through the bonfire at the edge of the camp, Shulot could see the crowd approaching from a distance, and he felt a trace of doubt in his heart.
Night raids were highly organized tactical operations that only the most elite warriors could accomplish. The Otomi people attacking in front of them seemed to be numerous from a distance, but they were holding scattered torches and moving inconsistently. From time to time, torches spread out in other directions, and some even turned back up the mountain. The sound filled the sky, and there were faint cries floating in the wind, and the cries were mixed with the screams of women.
It wasn't until the crowd rushed closer that Shulot realized something, and then a ball of anger surged into his heart.
Except for the dozens of Otomi civilian warriors in the lead, there were only half-dressed old, weak, women and children behind them. Some of them are old, some are young, some are hopeful, some are desperate, some are hesitant, and some are crazy. They only had a wooden stick in their hands and were driven forward by the noble warriors at the rear.
Shulot saw a rickety old woman, her head lowered and her face bent, and her face could not be seen clearly. She was just staggering forward, leaning on a wooden stick. The crowd from behind kept coming, and when someone suddenly squeezed her, she immediately fell to the ground, with wooden sticks scattered beside her. The crowd's feet passed by, and the skinny body never got up again.
These weak civilians just held a wooden stick and rushed towards the gaps in the camp crazily, rushing desperately towards the forest behind the camp, where they imagined their way to survive. However, the Mexican warriors were already prepared. The warriors held shields and sticks, and drew out a tight and curved line to tightly guard the camp and its surroundings.
Then, Shulot saw countless "moths" flying towards the fire. The dozens of civilian warriors at the front let out desperate howls and charged desperately toward the fortified battle formation. They hit the shield, and then were hit by the obsidian war club that arrived first. Then the leather armor cracked, the bones broke, and the whole body twisted and fell.
Then came countless Otomi civilians. They weakly used wooden sticks to hit the shields, leather armor, or another civilian blocking the way. Everyone rushed towards the rocks in front of them like waves, and then the waves dispersed. The rocks were unscathed, leaving only thin bodies falling to the ground weakly.
The warriors swung their weapons coldly, breaking necks and breaking spines with their war clubs. The sharp obsidian edge was like a sharp blade, cutting off and tearing the unarmored limbs, causing blood to splash and stain the soil in front of the camp.
Shulot saw a young militiaman holding a simple wooden shield in the crowd, trying to protect the woman and child behind him. But the crowd soon came to an end and hit the dense "rock". "Reef" raised his war stick and swung it down from the side with a powerful swing, bypassing the simple wooden shield and hitting his back hard.
The young militiaman immediately straightened his body, raised his head and jerked it back like a broken piece of wood. He finally looked back and then fell silently. Shulot looked back again, and saw that the child had disappeared at the feet of the crowd. The woman screamed crazily, threw herself at her husband's body, and then a war stick fell head-on.
Shulot lowered his eyes, his face expressionless, and did not continue to watch the burning of the "moth". Totec, who was also standing on the high platform, frowned. He had already judged the essence of this "night attack".
Immediately, Totec called out two thousand warriors and asked them to put down their war clubs and replace them with sharp obsidian short spears. Then two thousand warriors moved forward ferociously, stabbing the incoming Otomi civilians mercilessly. The tip of the spear penetrated the soft chest and abdomen, and the civilians fell down in a neat row like thatch, and then the crowd behind them squeezed in another row, and so on. To deal with these living creatures that have neither armor nor attack power, short spears have higher killing efficiency than war clubs and are more labor-saving.
The war stick warriors in front came back to rest, wiping off their leather armor stained with blood and flesh, and replacing the worn war stick sharp blades.
A steady stream of civilians put out the fire, which "burned" for three or four hours. The fresh life turned into broken arms and limbs all over the ground, and the ground was covered in red. It wasn't until the first ray of dawn came up and they saw that the civilians were almost exhausted that the noble warriors who were driving from the top of the mountain to the mountainside nodded to each other and retreated to the castle on the mountain.
The war drove the Otomi nobles crazy. They threw away all the "burdens" just to persevere longer.
Soon, the morning sun lit up the red sky, and the morning light filled the bloody earth. The castle on the top of the mountain shone with light, and the camp below the mountain was filled with murderous intent. The warriors on both sides looked at each other across the mountain. Everything seemed to have remained unchanged, except for the dazzling bright red in the middle.
It was already dawn, and the Mexica warriors poured out of the camp and formed a torrent that surrounded the entire mountain city. The scouts quickly captured many civilians who struggled to escape in the steep north of the mountain city. They were also driven, jumping off the undulating cliffs in the dark night, turning into corpses and surviving injured all over the ground. However, few actually escape.
The scouts counted the dead and injured all over the mountain and roughly estimated the number at 20,000. Only a small number of them were civilian warriors who volunteered to die and militiamen who protected their families. According to intelligence, the city of Otopan originally had more than 10,000 warriors, 30,000 militiamen, and more than 30,000 civilians, approximately 80,000 people. Now, there are less than 60,000 people left in the city, and most of them are soldiers and men.
In other words, Otopan City can hold on for "just" two more months. The premise is that such a "night attack" does not happen again.
In the big tent, Shulot lowered his head slightly and had a clearer understanding of the cruelty of the Ottopan nobles.
King Tisoke angrily smashed the obsidian staff in his hand, and then roared at the warriors to behead all the prisoners and build them under the city of Otopan. This was the first time Shulot saw the king lose his temper.
The surrounding generals looked serious and remained silent, exchanging looks and expressions with each other, and occasionally some nodded slightly.
There is no doubt that this "night attack" severely damaged the morale of both armies. The nobles of Otomi still firmly control the city of Otopen by relying on the warriors in their hands, but the king of Mexica can no longer effectively control the camp of the city-state army. Voices of withdrawing troops began to circulate secretly.
After walking out of the camp, Shulot looked at the sky in the distance. Continuous clouds came from the sky again, the dark curtain slowly approached, and it looked like another light rain. Then, he looked towards the far side of the camp. Under the command of the warriors, the militiamen were cleaning up the corpses on the ground, building the heads into a Jingguan, and then throwing the remaining parts into the huge pit.
Drizzle can wash away the bright red color of the earth, but can it calm the madness of people's hearts?
Shulot smiled self-deprecatingly and shook his head.
"War makes people crazy, I have to be careful." He said to himself.
