"Stay here, take care of a village, and farm the land with peace of mind..."
Chihuaco, an old militiaman, opened his cloudy old eyes wide and looked at the scene in front of him. Under the bright firelight, there is a confident son, and further behind, there are farmland and villages at night. The scene at this moment was like a dream he had when he was dozing off, warm and somewhat unreal.
"Stay here..."
The old militiaman pursed his lips, fell into sleep, and let his heart flutter for a while. But soon, he remembered his responsibilities and thought of the people on the voyage, living and dead...
"Tomato Priest, Mecat Priest, Ashtu Puap, Merchant Tikalo, Warrior Tavaru...Dark Snake, Didi, Tilan, Tidan..."
The old militiaman was silent for a while, and then gently shook his head under Chippawa's expectant eyes.
"No. I can't stay here...I have to go back, take the people in the fleet home, and bring back the news about Snake Island in the East China Sea!...I still have to report back to the blind...His Majesty..."
Upon hearing this, the confident expression of the wasteland warrior Chippawa suddenly solidified on his face. He stared at his father blankly for a while, and suddenly became angry when he looked at the firm eyes.
"Dad! Why do you want to go back? Why do you want to serve the king of the Mexicans? Don't forget that it was the Mexicans who invaded us! It was they who destroyed the kingdom!"
"...The old kingdom was destroyed, but a new kingdom was established. Just like the old tree was cut down, and a new one grew up...higher, bigger, and with deeper roots..."
The old militiaman shook his head. Although his eyes were wet, his words were calm.
"The king of the kingdom now is His Highness the Mexica people, and he is also the king of the Prepecha people. After all, he has given the Prepecha people a stable life, increased the food production in the fields, and allowed the villagers to live It's much better... In the villages in the Lake District, farmers who have established households don't have to worry about famine and seeds, nor are they unable to eat or feed their newborn babies..."
"Not to mention, the warriors, sages, and priests of Prepecha have long been loyal to him and followed him to conquer everywhere..."
"So... he asked me to go to sea... so I went. And what I encountered this time when I went to sea... was very important! I had to go back alive and report back to him..."
"Ah! How could... be like this? The king of the Prepecha people?..."
Hearing this, Chipawa, the wasteland warrior, gritted his teeth, anger burning in his chest, but he didn't know who to talk to. After all, according to the words of the battalion commander Zuccata, in his long-standing knowledge, the Prepecha people should deeply hate the Mexica conquerors and want to return the royal family of Tarasco...
"Damn! How could this happen?..."
Chippawa lowered his head, grabbed a handful of dirt from the ground, and threw it into the fire again. The fire swayed violently, then returned to calm, just like the unchanging reality.
"Dad...then go back! Explain the matter...and then come back!"
Hearing this, the old militiaman smiled happily. Then, he lowered his head, looked at the calm firelight, and called out his son's name for the first time.
"Chippawa! I am old...the old turtles of Prepecha should die in the lake where they were born. Together with your grandma..."
"What's more, there is your sister..."
"Damn it! Then bring my sister here too!"
The wasteland warrior Chippawa gritted his teeth and growled lowly, like a suppressed wolf.
"You are old...I will raise you! If you die...I will bury you!..."
"Wow! That's great!..."
The old militiaman opened his eyes wide and looked at his excited son, with a happy smile on his face. He just smiled happily, watching Chippawa calm down, and then said softly.
"Your sister...married a stable husband. Finally, she has a stable life. I just think about her being safe and stable, so that I can feel at ease..."
"The Lake Patzcuaro area of the Kingdom is very peaceful now, more stable than other places. But here, you are still fighting and migrating... not to mention, this is thousands of miles away, and the road is so chaotic..."
Speaking of this, the old militiaman shook his head again. He rubbed his hands, rubbed his old face, and wiped away the old tears from the corners of his eyes. Although he knew there was little hope, he still asked in a low voice.
"I was thinking, otherwise...you...come back to the kingdom with me?"
"What? Go back to the kingdom?! What's there?...Is there any fish to eat? Haha!"
Hearing this, Chipawa, the wasteland warrior, was startled and suddenly laughed. He smiled, tears streaming from his eyes.
"Dad! I have a past in the kingdom. But in the past, I was just a boy in the village! Timid, thin, bullied, and powerless... But what about here? I am a follower of Sister Alan, a brave warrior. A tribal warrior who is the captain of the elite centurion!... I am even the deputy to the commander of the Zukata Battalion, participating in the training and management of the Lance Battalion!..."
The wasteland warrior Chipawa raised his head and looked at the endless flat wasteland and the vast sky in the wasteland. After a while, he rubbed his cheeks, pointed at the tattoos on his face, and said in a deep voice.
"Dad. I can't go back. I have carved the mark of the wilderness, and I belong here! This is the land and sky I want..."
Chihuaco, the old militiaman, was silent and nodded. The feeling in his heart at this moment was both sadness and relief, like sweet and sour fruit wine. However, his ability to drink has never been good, and just this glass of new wine made him want to get drunk.
"Well... Chippawa, my baby... I am happy that you have made a career. You have your own path, which is different from me... I only ask you one thing..."
At this point, the old militiaman raised his head and looked into Chippawa's eyes. The father and son looked at each other quietly until the tattooed son nodded slowly.
"Dad, just say it! I promise you..."
"Okay!... From now on, no matter what you encounter... you must work hard to live and survive. Likewise, if you can, you must let others live and give others a chance to live..."
"Me? Someone else?...Alive?..."
The expression of Chippawa, the wasteland warrior, changed as he chewed on this heavy word. Although he didn't quite understand at the moment, he still nodded vigorously.
"Okay! Dad, I promise you!"
"Okay! Wow! Wow! Wow!"
The old militiaman smiled again. He smiled, covered his old face, and turned around. The Chippawa on the opposite side also unanimously turned his back towards here. The father and son were leaning against each other, back to back, just like they did when they were children.
At this moment, they couldn't see each other's faces, but they could feel the person behind them. This made the heaviness in their hearts a little lighter and made them feel more at ease.
The rivers of life will meet and are destined to separate. No matter whether they are closely connected or not, or whether their blood is intertwined, they will still walk on their own rivers and meet different river banks... until the final death, let them be quiet or sing, and merge into the endless deep sea, no matter who comes first and who comes last...
"Dad, when do you want to leave?"
"Try to be as fast as possible! I'm going to the southern coast, further south of the Silver Crow tribe..."
"To the southern coast?"
Hearing this, the wasteland warrior Chipawa thought for a moment and said in a deep voice.
"There is still a war on the southern coast! The tribe is conquering the Huastec tribes... If you want to go, I have to inform Sister Alan first. Then, I have to tell the chief in the south. This back and forth will take a lot of time. , you can’t come in a hurry!…”
"Sister Alan?"
Listening to this name being mentioned repeatedly, the old militiaman pondered for a while and asked aloud.
"who is she?"
"She? She is the daughter of the great chief, a small chief in the north, and the heir to the Red Crow Tribe..."
Speaking of this, a longing smile appeared on the face of the wasteland warrior Chippawa.
"Dad! To me, she is our leader, my sister Alan! She is a powerful huntress, a powerful female warrior, and a powerful female chief! She is also...the moon in the sky."
"Oh...amazing!...The moon..."
The old militiaman lowered his head and leaned against his son behind him, as if feeling those complicated emotions. He pursed his lips, not knowing what to say. After all, he knew nothing about the Red Crow tribe.
"Well...the deer will run after the first deer, and the wolf will follow the first wolf and bite...just follow her and do your best! And also...live well."
"Don't worry! Dad! Sister Alan is very good to me!"
The wasteland warrior Chipawa nodded vigorously and smiled happily. The old militiaman scratched his hair and asked again.
"Then...what are you...doing here now?"
"Oh! I took the warriors and followed Sister Alan to conquer the northern grasslands. She gave me a new job. She took the newly conquered tribal warriors to migrate to the Huastec immigrants in the south, and then went to the Warrior Lake area to cultivate and build The village...there are already 80,000 or 90,000 tribes there, all of them are our people, and they are very prosperous. But the food is not enough..."
"Dad! From Otter City to the north, between the plateau and the sea, the plains of seven to eight hundred miles...are all ours now! Such a big piece of land, such big mountains, rivers and seas are all ours!...We are red The Crow Tribe, with more than 200,000 people, is the most powerful tribe in the North!..."
The wasteland warrior Chipawa raised his head and declared proudly. The old militiaman's eyes flashed, and he didn't pay attention to his son's bold words after that, but only noticed the first few sentences.
"You said... you are migrating... farming... not enough food?"
"That's right! A small Huastec village like this one was established just in the past few years by immigrants from the south. There is not much food left in the village, otherwise more people would be able to move in..."
"Farming...food..."
The old militiaman pondered for a while, then suddenly turned around and grabbed his son's hand.
“Chippawa!…”
"ah?"
"Dad doesn't know how to... help you farm, but he still knows how to..."
The old militiaman looked serious, and his expression was more serious than ever before. Seeing his father like this, Chippawa also became serious.
"father?"
"This time... I brought back some cassava stems from Quetzalcoatl's Snake Island... They are easy to grow and live well. They are not afraid of pests and their yields are frightening. But the skin is poisonous, very poisonous. So when you eat it, you have to peel it and soak it in water first, and don’t store it for too long..."
"What? Cassava? Dad! What is that?"
"Well...it's good food, edible, high-yield food! It doesn't pick the ground at all, it just needs to be grown in a hotter place. But I feel it's quite hot here, so it should be able to grow...even if it's a little colder, that is The harvest is less, but it is definitely more than corn and pumpkins, much more!…”
The old militiaman looked happy and said a lot in one breath. However, Chippawa had a look of confusion on his face. Seeing this, the old militiaman slapped his thigh hard and pinched his son's arm hard.
"Are you listening? Do you understand?"
"Ah? Dad? What did you say?"
"I said…"
The old militiaman stretched out his hand, grabbed his son's ear after many years, and shouted loudly.
"Tomorrow! You will be with me tomorrow..."
“Go to the fields and farm!…”
