Reliefs of skeletons are carved in the ancient hall, while murals of death surround the two people in the corner.
Warrior Ji fell to the ground, bleeding and laughing hoarsely. The boy huddled tightly in her arms and looked ahead in fear. The samurai chief was running forward, holding his sharp bronze sword at an angle. Many large shield warriors spread out a path, and then followed closely.
"Bertard, save their lives!"
The king shouted, and the warrior captain slowed down and turned the edge of the copper sword to the thick side.
"Hahaha! Mexicans, stay in doubt forever!"
Warrior Ji smiled crazily and used his good right hand to pull out the long dagger from his waist. Then, she lowered her head and kissed the boy's forehead tenderly.
The boy raised his head, staring blankly at the person he trusted most in his life in this temple full of death. He looked at the tears in Warrior Ji's eyes and felt the soft kiss on his forehead.
"White Snake...sister?"
Hearing the boy's name, Warrior Ji had an unprecedented smile on his face. She hugged the boy tenderly, and gently placed the long dagger on his neck.
"Little Water Snake, you can go with peace of mind, taking with you the glory of the Water Snake family and the hatred that will never be forgotten! And your Warrior Ji will be with you~"
After saying that, she gritted her teeth, clenched the long dagger in her hand, and swung it down suddenly.
"Ah!...Uh..."
In an instant, the boy's eyes widened and he twitched in pain. He felt the warmth and life leave, and begged for his last whisper.
"White Snake...I feel so much pain...ugh!..."
"Little water snake, don't be afraid, I will accompany you right now!..."
As he spoke, Warrior Ji raised his dagger and aimed it at his heart without hesitation.
Bertard was already in front of the two men. He stopped, lowered his bronze sword, stared at the scene of the warrior's death, and sighed softly.
"...Warrior Ji who is good at shooting, do you have any poems that you would like to pass on in the world?"
"Haha! Poetry? Spread?..."
Warrior Ji took a deep look at the king with full of hatred and said the final prophecy.
"He will die... Even the God of Death, who is in charge of death, will close his eyes and die... But death is not his end... What awaits him will be eternal loneliness!"
Hearing this, Shulot trembled all over and his pupils suddenly shrank. He suddenly stretched out his hand and shouted sharply.
"stop!..."
"Pfft! Ugh!"
Warrior Ji suddenly exerted his strength. The sharp obsidian dagger pierced her heart fiercely, causing her to curl up in pain. Then, blood spurted out from his chest, fell on the boy's body, and blended with the pool of blood on the ground. Then, her body slumped, and she fell on the boy, hugging him until death.
Shulot stared at the bright red in front of his eyes and slowly lowered his eyes. At this moment, thousands of memories flashed through his mind. The Tlaxcala people’s hanging gods, dead warriors, slaughtered militiamen, and captured women and children, as well as the slain priests in front of them, the Ji warriors who committed suicide, and the fallen boys...
After a while, the king sighed quietly and asked a question that no one understood.
"Is this how Qin destroyed Zhao?..."
"Ah? Your Highness?"
Na Xiu blinked, confusion appearing on his face.
"Command the warriors to search inside and outside the temple to find the body and relics of the death priest!"
"Yes! Then, what to do with these two bones?"
"...Just choose a beautiful place near the temple and bury them together!...Don't erect a monument."
"Yes! Your Highness!"
Bertard saluted respectfully and immediately went to make arrangements.
In the main hall, it is still simple and desolate, and it has long been used to seeing death. Shulot took a few steps and came to the black wolf statue of the God of Death.
In front of the statue is a bluestone altar, which seems to be in the style of the Toltec ancestors and is estimated to be at least hundreds of years old. On the altar, a black death skull was enshrined in a black pottery ritual vessel. The skull was almost completely weathered, with strange black and gray marks, and was engraved with the wolf-shaped emblem of Death.
"Ah! Is this?...the divine object in the Temple of Death in Tlaxcala, the head of the mythical black wolf with blood tongue, the skull of the God of Death with divine power?!"
Bertard looked excited, staring at the distant skull in front of him, as if he was seeing an ancient divine power.
"Hmm! ...whatever it was before."
Shulot stroked the strange skull, feeling the smooth jade touch, and announced calmly.
"From this day forward, it is the Death Skull of the Tlaxcalans and the Death Skull of the Mexica!"
Then, the king thought for a moment and gave the king's order.
"Bertard, when we return to the camp, we will hold a sacred sacrificial ceremony! Celebrate the gods and gods of death who jointly gave me the gods! Let the captives and surrendered troops from all the Tlaxcala tribes send representatives to participate in the sacred ceremony !”
"Yes! Your Highness is wise!"
The warrior leaned down deeply, saluted the supreme king, and bowed his head to the ethereal divinity.
"Naxiu..."
Shulot turned his head again and looked at the intelligence officer who was close to him.
"Please sort out my experience of climbing the sacred mountain, visiting the temple, and obtaining prophecies and divine objects... and then publicize it among the Southern Route Army and the occupied towns!"
"I obey your will, Your Highness!"
Naxiu Yingying bowed, already prepared. The so-called arrangement is naturally like an epic poem and a myth, endowed with awe-inspiring divinity and spread among all peoples. In fact, this is the most important purpose of the king's climb to the Yanfeng Mountain!
In this era of ignorance and barbarism, in this world that worships gods, the ethereal divinity is an extremely powerful force!
If you want to conquer all tribes in the world, you must conquer the hearts of all tribes. And conquering the hearts of all ethnic groups cannot be achieved simply by force. It requires oral legends, incredible artifacts, and shocking miracles. The various tribes in the world have not been around for a long time, the concept of the country has not yet been formed, and the national cognition is far from being cohesive. At this time, half of the people's hearts in the world lie in customs and traditions, and half of them lie in gods and relics. And only the supreme divinity can unify and resolve the blood feud between various tribes!
"Yeah. That's it!"
Xiuluo nodded, held the black jade-like "Death Skull" tightly, and turned around to leave. When he returns to the camp, he will use the divine object in his hand to make a new divine staff.
Soon, all that was left in the hall were the gradually solidifying blood stains, the bright red murals, and the death god with a red tongue and a black wolf. A gust of cold wind blew, and the penetrating tooth bell sounded faintly again, telling the stories that had happened in the wind of death~
The volcanoes are majestic and the glaciers are shining, unchanged for tens of thousands of years. Shulot stood on the cold mountain, found a cold red crystal rock, and sat down cross-legged. This is the legacy of the volcanic eruption, and it also hides the power deep underground.
After a while, the warrior commander came in a hurry, with regret on his face.
"Your Highness, the body of the Death Priest has been found."
Shulot nodded slightly and followed the footsteps of the warrior captain to the pine forest near the temple.
The soft soil had been dug up, revealing a shriveled corpse and a skinny old skull. The owner of the corpse had only been dead for two days, but his appearance was already indistinguishable. Perhaps, that's what he looks like, that's death.
"Phew!...The prophecy of the Death Priest...The Death God Shulotel..."
Shulot watched in silence for a moment. An inexplicable word suddenly hit his heart, making him unforgettable for a long time.
"...Even if your guidance is broken, please be...the king of the world!"
