The door of the dilapidated hut was wide open, and everyone in the captured fleet looked panicked. The fierce canine warriors carried axes and spears and strode in with murderous intent. The tattooed leader had a ruthless look on his face, and raised the corners of his mouth ferociously.
"Blind God! This is this? This is!..."
Chihuaco, an old militiaman, looked at the invading canine descendants with fear. Although he couldn't understand the conversation outside the room, when he saw the murderous posture, he could feel full of malice and a strong ominous atmosphere. He gritted his teeth hard, dug his nails into his flesh, stood at the front of the fleet, and spoke carefully in Mexica.
"Dear leader of the wasteland... we are friends from the kingdom in the lake..."
"Kneel down, everyone!"
The young tattooed leader roared, and the incoming canine warriors swung their spears and knocked everyone in the room to the ground. The crew's cries of pain and the canine's howling instantly echoed in the hut. Seeing this chaotic scene, the tattooed leader laughed heartily. He laughed for a while, showed his ruthlessness again, and asked sharply in Guakili.
"Who is the leader among you?"
"Friends! Friends! We are friends!..."
The old militiaman Chihuaco stood at the front of the crowd and was forcibly pushed to the ground by two dog-born people. He struggled and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Lord God! This is a misunderstanding! We are friends from afar! We have no ill intentions!..."
"Ha! Friends? What kind of friends do you Mexicans have?"
Hearing this, the young tattooed leader showed hatred and sneered. He understood Mexica, but only answered in fluent Guaquili.
"You are the enemy! I came here for hundreds of miles just to send the enemy to death!...Haha! I want to repay you the pain of losing everything!"
"Lord God! This must be a misunderstanding!... This is our first time here..."
"Haha! Leader of the Mexica people, you have been abandoned by your main god, stop struggling!"
The young tattooed leader strode forward and squatted in front of the old militiaman. He grabbed the other person's hair, looked at the unkempt, sunburned old face, and laughed ferociously.
"Haha! As the leader, you are lucky! You will stay until the end so you can watch carefully! Watch me kill all of you one by one and twist off your heads one by one..."
"No! Don't! Friends! We can discuss it, discuss it carefully..."
Chihuaco, the old militiaman, looked anxious. He didn't know there was something wrong there, why suddenly, everyone ended up like this. But at this critical moment, he bowed down again, showing a humble figure like a countryman.
"Master! Mighty warrior master! We can give you everything on the boat!... We are just fish in the lake, very small and no threat... Please! Let us go!"
"Ha! Fish? I love fish the most!...Haha! Huh?"
As he spoke, the young tattooed leader suddenly paused. Inexplicably, he felt that this sentence was so familiar.
"Huh? This voice, these words...I seem to have heard them somewhere..."
Thinking of this, he narrowed his eyes and stared at the gray old face of the old militiaman carefully with dangerous eyes.
"Keep your head up!"
"Dear samurai master! Spare us!"
The old militiaman stammered, regaining his former survival instincts after many years. It was the era of the Kingdom of Tarasco, and the villagers were powerless and the only way.
"Master! We can farm land for you! Yes, I am a good farmer, and we are all..."
"..."
Seeing this inexplicably familiar cowering expression, the young tattooed leader froze in place and remained silent. He was stunned for a long time, as if he had encountered something completely unbelievable.
"Impossible...how is it possible?...This is absolutely impossible!"
"Dear samurai master..."
The old militiaman looked cowered and humiliated. He was still struggling, trying to hold on to his last hope.
"Please, please spare our lives..."
The young tattooed leader was silent for a while, then suddenly asked quickly in Prepecha language.
"Are you... from Tarasco? Not from Mexico?"
"Eh? Tarasco?"
Hearing this familiar accent, Chihuaco, an old militiaman, was also startled. But he reacted quickly and answered carefully immediately.
"We... are all Prepecha people from the Kingdom of the Lake, serving His Majesty from the Mexica Alliance... This is our first time here, and we have never offended your tribe!..."
"Prepecha people..."
Hearing this, the young tattooed leader shook his head, as if it brought back long-standing memories. However, he is not very old, and he does not know when these long-lasting memories occurred. After a while, he asked softly in Prepecha with a trembling voice.
"You...your hometown...is a small village on the west side of Lake Patzcuaro. There are two rag trees and a red cicada flower at the entrance of the village?"
"…Ah You!…"
Hearing this, the veteran militiaman suddenly raised his head and looked at the other party blankly. He carefully looked at the tattooed leader in front of him, at the red tattoos covering his face, at the thick and powerful body, and at the straight red hair. The young tattooed leader also opened his eyes wide, looking at his old face, which was full of wrinkles and sunburned and had lived in the open air.
"Who are you…"
The old militiaman hesitated for a while, then looked at the other party's excited eyes and asked uncertainly.
"Are you...also from Prepecha? Have you been to Lake Patzcuaro and to my hometown?"
Hearing this, the young tattooed leader was shaken all over. He stretched out his hand tremblingly, wiped away the dust on the old militiaman's face, and stared at the other man's face. Then, with trembling fingers, he asked with some anticipation and some fear.
"You...you have a son and a daughter. The son was taken away and went to the front line where the Mexicans were fighting..."
"Ah! You! How do you know who you are?"
The old militiaman trembled all over, and suddenly stood up like a fish after being electrified. He grabbed the tattooed leader's arm and asked excitedly.
"Is it possible? Is it possible!"
"...Uh-huh!"
The young tattooed leader suppressed the excitement in his heart and nodded vigorously.
"Did...have you seen my son?! He...is he still alive?!"
"..."
The young tattooed leader was silent for a moment, then stretched out his hand and wiped his face vigorously. However, the terrifying tattoos on his face symbolize the wasteland warrior's courage to abandon everything after he reaches adulthood. They have long been integrated with his appearance and can no longer be separated.
"He...he...me!...you..."
"Huh? Me?...You?...You?!"
The two looked at each other tremblingly, neither of them able to say a complete sentence, but they could somehow understand each other's thoughts. There was silence in the hut, except for the trembling eyes of the two people, which seemed to be lit with flames.
"ah!"
The tattooed canine leader trembled for a moment, unable to bear the surging emotions in his heart any longer. He rushed forward and knelt heavily on the ground. Then, with tears in his eyes, he hugged the old militiaman's face tightly, gritted his teeth, and roared.
"father!
! "
