Warm sunshine fell, shining on the Divine Blessing Legion by the river, and also illuminated their solemn faces. Various sun talismans, made of gold, silver, wood, bone, and stone, shine on the necks of the warriors, like the sun god's ever-present blessing.
Shulot and Natalie prayed a few words together, and then asked the other party to take the warriors to rest. The young priest carefully looked at the Divine Blessing Legion passing by, and nodded slowly and forcefully.
Next, the last batch of reinforcements that landed by the river were the chaotic Chichimec descendants. Dozens of leaders of the Dog tribe shouted loudly, calling for different numbers of tribal warriors, gathering into crowds of varying sizes. Later, under the leadership of General Ocelot's envoy, the leaders came forward in confusion and paid tribute to His Highness one by one.
With a majestic face, Shulot received the canine headmen who were loyal to the Alliance.
Most of the canine-origin chiefs only wore simple robes, their faces were weathered, with traces of the wind and sun, their skin was brown and black, and they were painted with tattoos of different worships. They first held their heads high and loudly introduced the name of the tribe and their heroic achievements, trying to show their bravery and wildness that was not afraid of death. Later, when His Highness asked, they bowed their heads and replied respectfully, speaking incomplete Mexica words, and looking at the thousands of elite warriors with fear. From time to time, they will show a fleeting greed, longing for strong leather and cotton armor, longing for powerful longbows and war clubs, and also longing for shining gold and silver ornaments.
The young commander's face was calm and he observed calmly. These canine chiefs display complex traits. They were in awe of the alliance's force and were forced to join the Mexican army because of their livelihood. But in the bones of the canine descendants, they are full of greed for power and wealth, as well as contempt for life, death and order. In short, the canine descendants are fierce and untamable, fearful of power and unethical.
Shulot pondered for a moment, then waved his hand solemnly. Thousands of personal bodyguard warriors came waving war clubs and forced all the canine warriors to kneel down. The leaders shouted in confusion, but they did not hesitate when they knelt down. Immediately, several priests stepped forward, set up a simple altar again, ignited the terrifying blue flame, and raised unpredictable divine smoke.
Mysterious chants sounded, and the priests danced wildly. The guards cut off the heads' hair and threw them into the blazing sacred fire. In the smoke, the young priest danced at the end, singing a simple and strange language, and then announced loudly.
"The Lord God controls everything and determines people's life and death! As long as the hair of your soul burns, your life is in the hands of the Lord God. Those who disobey orders will suffer divine punishment, burning with pain and turning into rising smoke. !”
The accompanying interpreter shouted loudly, conveying the young priest's will. The leaders showed fear on their faces, looking at the strange and unknown flames, listening to the curses of the priests of the alien gods, and a thick shadow rose in their hearts. After a while, the leaders finally burst out with cries of submission and knelt down with trembling bodies.
"The great wizard of the sun god!"
After hearing the translation, Xiuluo nodded. He beckoned again and asked the priests to use the psilocybe mushrooms they carried with them to prepare sacred mushroom water. Then, he calmly ordered the leaders to drink it.
Looking at these potions with changing colors, the canine headmen trembled all over. They struggled, but were forced by the warriors to drink slowly and reluctantly.
Within a moment, the leaders' hands and feet trembled first, and then they danced uncontrollably. They were shouting unknown names in their mouths, crying and laughing on their faces. The world in front of them was strange and strange, as if the eyes of gods were watching, with irresistible power. Seeing this crazy scene, the Mexica priests were used to it, and the canine warriors were terrified.
The frenzied dancing lasted for two full moments. It wasn't until they were exhausted that the leaders fell limply, their pupils dilated and their spirits at a loss.
Only then did Shulot declare sternly again.
"The Lord God controls everything, and also determines people's life and death! When the sacred potion flows into your lungs, your life is in the hands of the Lord God. Those who disobey orders will suffer divine punishment, and their bodies will rot and die, and their souls will be swallowed up by darkness forever!"
Listening to the translator's words, the canine warriors cried out in fear and fell to the ground completely.
"The great wizard of death!"
Shulot once again looked around at the canine descendants, observing their faces. The hidden arrogance finally disappeared and turned into a heartfelt fear. The young priest nodded. The shocking effect of these rituals would not last long, but it was enough to last until the siege was over. Only under the dual control of mind and body can these canine beings be able to withstand brutal casualties and last longer in battle.
Shulot finally waved his hand and asked the canine warriors to take their respective leaders to the wooden castle to rest. Then, he turned around and looked toward the river mouth fortress to the southwest. The siege there continues, but the outcome is about to be decided.
Two days later, nine thousand reinforcements boarded the navy's fleet again and headed for the siege camp outside the fortress. The mighty reinforcements passed by, attracting the gaze of the city. Under the flag of the "Crocodile", the Russian faction stands alone on the watchtower, wearing the commander's uniform and looking much older. He watched silently as the enemy's reinforcements slowly gathered into the besieged camp, and chuckled sadly.
"Good, very good! The scenery here is beautiful and the river is surging. It is a good place for 'Crocodile' to return to the Kingdom of God! The glory that has been passed down for hundreds of years will end here. All the honorable nobles and brave warriors will spend all their time together. The lives of countless Mexicans have been shed here!”
Behind the "crocodile" nobles, the remaining family warriors showed their determination to die. The rest of the nobles, big and small, looked at each other, their thoughts fluctuating, and they remained silent.
The setting sun gradually falls, dyeing the sky and earth a bright red, like a sign from the gods. In the curling smoke, the two Ottomi legions stood opposite each other, both silent.
Giowa looked complicated. He looked at the fellow warriors who had converted to the Lord God in front of him, and at the familiar figures opposite, and scenes from the past came to mind. Once upon a time, they fought against the Mexicans together, staining the mountains and forests with blood. Later, they parted ways, one abandoning and betraying the other. Now they joined hands again, under the banner of Mexica, and fought bloody battles before the fortress of Tarasco. Things change like ironic poetry.
Natalie looked solemn and her face was like a sculpture. He remained calm. Everything in the past no longer mattered at this time. After a moment, he took two steps forward and made a greeting.
"Praise the Lord God! Giowa of Otopan, I am very happy to meet you here again to join the sacred divine battle. The Lord God is supreme and omnipotent! He has saved all the confused Otomi people, and we will serve for Him And fight and die for Him!...May His faith spread throughout the world!”
Seeing Natalie's bright eyes and listening to his pious praise, Giowa opened his mouth, but was speechless for a moment. After a long while, he said the same words in an obscure voice.
“May the Lord God save all the confused Otomi people, and may His faith spread throughout the world.”
"Then, salute to you, companion of the Gods of War. Praise the Lord God!"
"Hail to you, Natalie of Herotepec, and praise the Lord God."
The conversation ends there. The two Otomi legions stared at each other again for a moment before parting ways in the camp. Perhaps as a result of subconscious effects, the stations of the two legions were far apart, and the two sides no longer communicated, as if they were separated by a vanished world.
When dinner began, Chichimec's canine warriors were like wild beasts coming out of their cages, howling and shouting suddenly, fighting with each other with their bare hands, and fiercely fighting for the food provided. Between tribes, food is distributed according to strength. Within the tribe, only the strong can be fed, while the weak are doomed to starve.
Soon, the guards heard the sound and rushed over, but the canine warriors had already finished the competition and quickly assigned everything. The losers just sat down with their heads down, feeling secretly angry, but no one complained to the Mexicans. The guards looked at each other for a moment, then calmly retreated without interfering with the customs of the canine descendants.
A few hundred steps away, there was a low chant. Led by dozens of war priests, the Divine Blessing Legion performed pre-meal prayers. The warriors looked solemn, holding the amulets around their necks and chanting sincerely.
"Praise be to the Lord Huitzilopochtli! He gives us food, and we will fight for Him! ...Fight to the death!"
The uniform chants gradually became louder and louder, gradually resounding throughout the camp and flying towards the blood-red setting sun. Hearing the familiar prayer, the Lancers also echoed it. Under the leadership of a small team of priests, they also stood up solemnly and praised the power and generosity of the gods.
In the pious atmosphere, many Mexican warriors also lowered their heads, put down the food in their hands, praying for the protection and blessing of the God of War, and praying for survival and victory in the war. At this moment, the great camp under the city was surrounded by hymns, as if the Kingdom of God had arrived.
The loud chants floated to the city not far away. The young militiaman Weziti was dozing off and suddenly woke up from his dream. He opened his eyes, looking around nervously with a tired face, holding a spear in his hand. Beside him, the old militiaman Chihuaco opened his old eyes with the same difficulty and carefully looked at the situation under the city head.
"Uncle, what are the Mexicans screaming about? These days they shoot arrows to attack the city during the day and beat gongs and drums at night. No one has a sound sleep. Now, they don't even give you this moment of peace!"
Seeing no sign of the Mexican attack, Weitz breathed a sigh of relief. He tugged on the turban and stuffed the corners of the cotton into his ear holes, and then he felt better.
Chihuaco listened carefully. Mexica and Prepecha were very similar, and he could vaguely make out the general outline.
"They seem to be praising a very powerful god called Wizichitli... This god will bring them victory!"
Amid the loud prayers, the old militiaman listened intently and shuddered. He smelled danger again.
Wezti looked at the camp below the city and suddenly saw thousands of tribal warriors who were half-clothed and howling indiscriminately. He laughed as he looked at the tattered clothes, disorderly fights, and beast-like shouts of the tribal warriors.
"Uncle, look! Who are these people? They are even worse than the poorest family in the village!"
The old militiaman heard the sound and looked at the "beasts" carefully for a moment, then shook his head solemnly.
"This is a barbarian who is not afraid of death."
Vezti nodded in understanding. Before joining the war, he had never been more than fifty miles away from the village, and had no impression of the canine descendants in the north. Then, he looked for the center of the song that sang loudest to God, which was the warrior legion that had just arrived today.
"Uncle, look! Who are these people? Everyone has something shiny around their neck."
The old militiaman then looked at the Divine Blessing Legion chanting loudly, and after just looking at it for a while, he shuddered again.
"This is a master who is not afraid of death!"
At this point, the old militiaman looked pale. He continued to stare for a moment, then stamped his feet violently, making up his mind.
"No, stupid idiot, this city can't be defended! We can't wait any longer! I'm going to find the samurai master who defended the city together last time. We have to find a way to survive!"
Having said this, the old militiaman threw away the spear in his hand, looked around at the other militiamen who were still watching blankly, and slipped under the city wall without stopping. At the end of the last defense of the city, he performed well and was praised by several samurai masters. He vaguely remembered the residence of a young gentleman, so he lowered his head and ventured there.
On the second day after the reinforcements arrived at the camp, Shulot sent several captured nobles of Tarasco to the river mouth fortress to persuade the defenders at the head of the city to surrender.
"Those who open the door...get rewards!...Those who lead the army to surrender...keep their identities unchanged!...Those who do not resist...the prisoners can survive!..."
Before the envoys persuading them to surrender could even shout a few words, several feather arrows were fired at them, penetrating directly into their heads and killing them on the spot.
On the top of the city, the fierce "crocodile" noble lowered his head in the sky and looked fiercely at the nobles and warriors on the left and right.
"His Majesty's reinforcements are on the way! We can still hold on for several months! This is the fate of those who dare to surrender!"
The nobles echoed the marshal's words in low voices, their eyes flashing.
Ospai looked around, thinking in his heart, and then continued to speak.
"Mexicans are bloodthirsty and warlike, especially keen on sacrificing noble nobles! This is a war between gods. Once you fall into their hands, your life and death will be decided by the other party! Whether you can survive and how long you can survive is unknown. Count. In the end, he will inevitably end up committing hara-kiri and being sacrificed on the pyramid!"
Hearing this, the nobles' complexions changed, and their expressions gradually revealed a bit of sadness.
Seeing this, Ospai nodded slightly. He swung the obsidian dagger, cut his palm, and swore loudly.
"I, the Russian faction of the 'Crocodile' family, swear an oath here! Under the witness of the three gods, I swear to live and die together in the river mouth fortress!"
And this wine should be brewed with the blood of gods, so that it can be bitter and long-lasting! And this throne was made of the bones of warriors. "Sitting alone on the highest position,
And this wine should be brewed with the blood of gods, so that it can be bitter and long-lasting! And this throne was made of the bones of warriors. "Sitting alone on the highest position,
