Avitt frowned, looked at the enemy who was charging fearlessly, and ordered again.
Immediately, the Longbow Guards quickly retreated and retreated up the hill. They stopped shooting and were recovering their arm strength.
Four warrior battalions rushed down from the mountain, holding shields and sticks, and collided with the attacking alien mercenaries. In an instant, weapons and shields clashed, war cries and roars resonated.
These wild warriors with disheveled hair and messy weapons are extremely fierce. They had almost no defense, just brandishing stone axes and sticks, risking their lives to attack.
Shulot watched as a lean Chichimek dog-born rushed forward like a coyote and hugged a warrior's shield tightly. His back was immediately split by the war club, and his body was bent, still twisted and hanging on the shield. The samurai can only throw away the shield in his left hand. Seeing the opportunity, another short canine man waved the stone ax with both hands and struck the samurai on the waist.
The samurai arched his back in pain, pulled out a short blade with his left hand, and stabbed into the root of the dog's thigh, causing blood to flow immediately. But the short dog-born laughed maniacally, ignoring his wounds, and just tried his best to swing the stone ax again. The stone ax hit the warrior's head, breaking a deep notch and killing him instantly. The dog-born laughed loudly, fell to the ground with no strength, and died on top of the samurai, as if he had sworn hatred for the Mexica people.
"It's really easy to attack diseases easily and easily lead to death." The young man couldn't help but sigh. The battlefield at the foot of the mountain was only two hundred meters away from him. Looking at the twisted and entangled corpses not far away, he felt a slight chill in his heart.
"It would be understandable if the Otomi and Toltec rebels were so desperate." Shulot thought for a moment, "But there is no need for the Chichimec descendants to be so crazy."
"The Chichimecs have always been brave and unafraid of death. They are used to death, and death is a part of their lives." Avitt explained seriously as if he had seen through the young man's thoughts.
"These Chichimec descendants are scattered throughout the deserts, Gobis and pastures of the northwest. They seldom engage in farming and only chase prey. They hunt deer, bison, wolves, leopards, lions, turkeys, birds, fish and even humans. , everything that can satisfy your hunger.”
"The canine descendants are divided into tribes, constantly migrating, constantly hunting, and constantly going south to plunder. They multiply rapidly when food is plentiful, and fight each other when food is scarce. Old tribesmen will be killed without mercy. They were driven out hesitantly and became the prey of wolves and other tribes. Years of wind, sand and hunger and cold made them age rapidly. Except for shamans and chiefs, few people can survive beyond the age of forty."
"The life of the canine is like that of a wild beast, and death is all too common. They fight for food and water, for women, and to become the leader. A cold snap, a drought, and a lack of food are the beginning of a great war. The tribes They will hunt each other and use each other's old and weak to survive the hungry season."
After hearing this and looking at the crazy battle below, the boy's scalp felt numb.
"They pose little threat to our city-states and legions, but they often destroy villages on the border. Only the cowardly Otomi people will provide them with food in exchange for peace." Avitt finally looked at these crazy dogs with some contempt. Origin.
"That's because they don't have horses, cattle, or sheep yet." Shulot understood clearly. Bison could not be domesticated, and the Spanish had not yet brought horses. The Chichimec dog descendants are still in the most primitive stage of the nomadic people, and they are not yet a threat to the city-states of the farming people, but they have shown extreme warlikeness and madness.
Once horses are available, allowing the tribes to move quickly and unite, herd cattle and sheep, increase the population of the nomadic tribes, learn bows and arrows, and improve their long-range offensive force, they will become the most persistent border threat to the Central American farming empire. Just like the nomadic tribes that are constantly rising in the north of China.
Hulot knew that later Spaniards would fight a Chichimec War that would last for fifty years. During the war, the Chichimecs learned to ride horses, shoot arrows, use matchlocks, and even survive infectious diseases, eventually using nomadic guerrilla warfare to force the Spanish to sue for peace.
The Spaniards could only use gentle methods, providing free food, tools, livestock and land, and using missionaries and settlements to assimilate the canine descendants. This took a hundred years to gradually eliminate the northern frontier troubles.
The young man continued to watch the fighting at the bottom of the mountain. Overall, the four thousand Mexica warriors still had the upper hand. Shields and leather armor can effectively improve the survival rate, and skilled martial arts can kill opponents faster. However, the casualty ratio of samurai has far exceeded that of fighting with spearmen. Almost every five Chichimecs can lose one samurai.
While the two were discussing, nearly a hundred warriors had died. Looking at Inuji's stubborn attitude of fighting to the death, are a thousand samurai really going to die? Shulot shook his head. Looking at the entangled front line again, it was obvious that the longbow warriors were unable to shoot.
"The casualties are too great, why not dispatch Jaguar soldiers?" the young man suggested.
Avit looked into the distance and saw that Tarasco's fleet had just returned to the other side and was loading the third legion. Judging from the situation, he should be a warrior holding a wooden shield, a bronze spear, and wearing a leather helmet. Now he still has a thousand jaguars, three thousand warriors, and four thousand militiamen in his hands.
The commander nodded first, then shook his head. Then several war flags were waved and war drums were beaten.
A thousand jaguar warriors, like wild beasts that had let go of their shackles, ferociously pounced into the broken spear phalanx from the flanks, completely scattering the spearmen. Their beast helmets flashed, their mouths imitated the roar of ligers, and their war clubs swung with all their might like lightning. The remaining spear militiamen struggled for only a few breaths, and finally their morale collapsed under the successive blows. Then they threw down their weapons in groups and jumped into the river behind them in despair.
At the same time, three thousand militiamen also came out of the camp and rushed towards the fighting dog descendants under the supervision of two hundred commanders and guards. The militiamen waved simple stone spears and hammers, passed the samurai group, and quickly rushed to the front line of the battle with the canine. Their stone spears were able to pierce into the unarmored body of the Dog-born, and the Dog-born's stone axes could easily knock down the militiamen. The two sides quickly fell in entanglement.
The four warrior battalions retreated simultaneously with a tacit understanding, recovering their strength and reorganizing their formation. After restoring a certain degree of organization, the commanders of each battalion automatically spread out to both sides, trying to outflank the canine's flanks and back. The commander's guard also continued to supervise the formation behind the militia to maintain the morale of the militia.
Now, Avit only has three thousand warriors, one thousand stone-throwing militia, and one hundred longbow guards. The third fleet of Tarascans was ferrying to the north shore carrying five thousand warriors.
The commander gave the order again, and the Mexican navy began to do its best to interfere with the opponent's fleet and prevent the enemy from crossing the river. From time to time, Mexica's large boats launched a charge and rammed into the Tarascos' small boats from both sides. Then there was a roar, a huge kinetic energy impact, and the warriors and boatmen on the boat were knocked into the river.
Then the rowers of the large boat exerted their strength again, and the militiamen retreated rapidly while fighting. Ofune disengaged before the samurai from the other boats could gather. Then rest for a while, wait for the paddler's strength to recover, and then strike again. The purpose of this kind of attack is not to cause too much damage, but to use the advantages of large ships to delay the actions of the enemy fleet while trying to save oneself.
It was only a quarter of an hour before the spearmen collapsed. The siege against them had reached the end of the killing spree. The Tarascans had dropped their spears and either surrendered or jumped into the water. The long river behind made the process of chasing death to the north extremely fast and simple. The casualties among the warriors only occurred during the brief stalemate, and nearly two hundred warriors were killed in that quarter of an hour. And as the Jaguar warrior pounced, what followed was a one-sided kill.
The short conch sound sounded again, and as the battle flag waved, a thousand Jaguar warriors began to restore order. They showed the greatest discipline and gradually retreated back to the hill and began to regroup. The four thousand chasing warriors had completely dispersed. They were fiercely pursuing the spearmen struggling on the river bank and in the river. It would take a long time before they could form a team again.
The remaining four thousand foreign mercenaries were now completely surrounded by warriors and militiamen. The militiamen brutally exchanged lives with the canine descendants on the front lines. The warriors attacked the few from the side and the rear, taking full advantage of their shields and formations to steadily harvest the violent enemies.
At this time, Tarasco's five thousand warriors finally began to land, and the elites with shields and spears began to gather closer. Soon, two warrior battalions were formed on the beach.
Avitt ordered again, and the longbow warriors fired rapidly at Tarasco's warriors within a distance of two hundred meters. They shoot 10 arrows per minute, lasting up to ten minutes before their arm strength is completely exhausted. The ferocious long arrows were powerful and heavy, and they made a muffled sound when they were nailed on the warrior's shield. Occasionally, there was a clanking sound. This was a rare copper shield.
And in the gaps between the shields, long arrows tore at the armor from time to time, and entered the flesh with a hiss, followed by a suppressed howl and a thump to the ground. From time to time, a senior warrior would slow down his rate of fire, aim carefully for a moment, and then shoot an arrow into the enemy's face, piercing his head, and killing him with one blow.
Facing elite warriors with shields and armor who are scattered and arranged, the killing rate of longbows is much lower. Even heavy arrows that approach are often blocked by shields. In five minutes of rapid fire, about three hundred Tarasco warriors fell to the ground, life or death unknown. The commander sent the last three warrior battalions to guard the Longbow Guards, waiting for the attack of the enemy warriors.
The thousand Jaguar warriors who had retreated to the hill had just finished forming. They each took all three of their spears, inserted one into the spear-thrower, and trotted toward the flank of the Tarasco warriors. It wasn't until thirty steps away that he roared loudly and threw the spear in his hand. The heavy spear drew a clearly visible curve, but with irresistible kinetic energy, it penetrated the wooden shield with a click and penetrated into the enemy's chest and abdomen.
The powerful momentum caused the warrior who was shot to fall to the ground instantly, and the thick spear tip caused serious wounds. Those who were shot were either seriously injured or died immediately, and only a copper shield could barely defend them. Just the first round of throwing spears caused more than a hundred warriors to fall to the ground. The powerful blows instantly loosened the enemy's formation and shook the morale of the soldiers.
The Jaguar warrior took a short rest on the spot and inserted the second spear in preparation. But suddenly there was a sharp whistling sound from the south bank, which was an order to retreat. The Tarasco captain who stopped on the shore immediately reloaded the samurai who had just disembarked. These warriors waved the bronze spears in their hands unwillingly, and then, under the loud orders of a commander on the big boat, they returned to the boat with unwilling faces.
Bertard glanced at the Tarascan command ship for a moment, then moved away helplessly.
He randomly found a warrior who was roaring loudly and waving his spear in demonstration, leaving the door wide open and shot him to death. The large boat was a full two hundred and fifty meters away from him, and the enemy commander carefully hid in the escort. The boat's body was still moving and drifting, and there was no chance of hitting it.
The Jaguar Warrior's second round of throwing spears only hit the tail, and the third round was even less fruitful. The archers fired at the ship for another five minutes until they were exhausted. Tarasco's fleet had already set off back south, leaving less than a thousand warrior corpses on the shore, which was considered a timely stop loss.
The southbound boats didn't care about the spear militiamen struggling to get closer in the water, and just left these empty-handed consumables to the Mexican fleet that was still harassing them. The Mexican navy did not continue to entangle with the fleet carrying warriors. They just gathered on the river near the north bank and easily harvested the remaining soldiers in the water.
The waves gently submerged the fallen warriors, then curled up and carried some away, while the rest gently showed their heads, as if they were bloody ornaments, decorating the afterglow of the battlefield.
The remaining two thousand alien mercenaries finally woke up from their fanaticism. Looking at the fleet, the remaining Otomi and Toltec rebels completely lost their morale. They turned around and knelt down in a daze, weakly surrendering, and then waited for a head-on attack without mercy.
In this brutal two-quarters of an hour of fighting, Mexica lost a full 300 warriors and nearly 1,200 militiamen. The militiamen fled for a time, and the commander's guards at the rear ruthlessly killed nearly a hundred people before driving the militiamen forward again.
The last nearly a thousand canine descendants howled like coyotes, which was the sound they were most familiar with in their hometown. The howl of the wolf, as the charge of battle, accompanies every Chichimec all the way. They are born, mature, mate, and fight in the howling of wolves, and those who are lucky enough to be old enough will end up falling into the belly of the wolf.
The canine descendants finally charged frantically towards the commander's flag on the mountain, and the commander's guards were also forced to join the battle.
Shulot watched the last dog-born die fifty steps away from him. One of his arms was broken by a war stick, and an arrow from Bertard was stuck in his back. His mouth was tightly biting on the neck of a militiaman, and the two died hugging each other, with a strange and twisted smile on their lips.
The young man shook his head. The dog's last struggle took away five hundred militiamen and more than fifty warriors. The Mexican warriors have gradually found a way to deal with the canine descendants: nearby warriors cooperate with each other, line up in a tight formation, use multiple shields to protect them, and use more to fight against the fewer. Then he swung the canine on the head or neck, trying to kill him with one blow without giving the opponent a chance to struggle to the death.
"Avit, let the warriors spare their hands and leave me some spearmen captains." Shulot said, grabbing the commander's arm.
"Do you want to form pikemen?" Avitt broke away from the serious command, with a smile on his lips.
"Yes. There are many gold and silver mines in operation in the city-states of Mexico. I am going to recruit a group of miners to practice." The young man smiled confidently and pointed to the spears scattered on the ground. "It just so happens that we now have a batch of bronze gun heads."
"Okay. It's up to you." Avitt laughed, "Thanks to the longbow warriors you formed this time, their lethality and explosive power are shocking! Bows and arrows can also break the opponent's formation and take the initiative in tactics. I I like this unit very much and will prioritize expanding their size.”
"Okay! When this battle is over, we will continue to make long bows." Xiuluo nodded, and then looked at the battlefield where the dead lay. The warriors were standing in the bloody water, shouting and cheering, demonstrating to the retreating Tarasco fleet. "Is the battle over?"
"The battle is over." Avitt looked towards the Tarasco Camp on the south bank of the river.
The flag of King Tarasco still flies. Under the flag are a series of camps, tens of thousands of warriors wielding bronze spears, militiamen all over the mountains and plains, and small boats transporting food on distant lakes.
"But the war has just begun!"
