“O Lord God!…What kind of person would have such a dagger?…”
In the big tent, Alan wore a cold mask and held an obsidian dagger in his hand. He stood in front of Priest Mekart and stared at the other person's face. Priest Mekart looked surprised and murmured to himself while looking carefully at the slightly old dagger.
"The stone blade of this dagger has been replaced... The style of the wooden handle is very old, and the withered pattern is primitive. It seems to have been passed down for many years... Eh! This smell, this texture... Is it hard sandalwood? Well, it should be a knife from an alliance noble. Heritage dagger…”
Priest Mekart opened his eyes wide and carefully looked at the three carved square characters on the wooden handle of the dagger, falling into deep thought.
"'Shulote', the name of the God of Death... is different from the original engraved pattern. It was obviously engraved later... So, yes!..."
"What?!"
"It was carved by the alliance nobles who worshiped the God of Death!..."
Priest Mecat touched his chin and answered affirmatively.
"Of course, it may also be the work of a senior warrior who worships the God of Death! His Majesty received the glorious divine revelation in the name of the God of Death. Over the years, the belief in the God of Death has spread among the upper echelons of the Alliance and the Kingdom. Many nobles Warriors and warriors will carve the name of 'Death' on their weapons to seek enlightenment from the gods!...And many children of nobles do the same, hoping to receive the blessings of the gods!..."
"Nobles, samurai and children who worship the God of Death?"
Alan narrowed his eyes and observed the expression on Priest Mecat's face. After a moment, she sighed quietly.
"So, there are many Mexican nobles with such daggers...in the alliance?"
"Yes! Not only the alliance, but also many Prepecha nobles in the kingdom!"
"That's it..."
Hearing this, Alan bit his lip gently, with some disappointment flashing in his eyes. She shook her head slightly and whispered.
"It belongs to the Mexica people, it cannot be the Tarasco people...Ten years ago, the Mexican Alliance had not yet conquered the Kingdom of Tarasco..."
"Yes!... Ten years ago, the belief in the God of Death was indeed only spread among the Mexica Alliance... Oh no! The people of Tlaxcala also have the same belief in the God of Death..."
"Not from Tlaxcala, he must be from Mexica! I remember clearly that when I met that man, there were also Alliance Jaguar warriors around him!..."
"Huh? And there are Jaguar warriors? Those are indeed members of the Alliance..."
Priest Mecat nodded cautiously in response. He glanced at the cold female chief with confusion, vaguely aware of Alan's disappointment, and he didn't know who the other party was looking for, but he had been thinking about it for so long...Ten years ago...
"Wait! No! Lord God! Time!"
Priest Mecat suddenly raised his head. He asked with wide eyes, looking at the tall and stern female chief, with a look of surprise and even some horror.
"You...just said...since childhood? Ten years ago?"
"Um?"
"Are you sure? It was ten years ago?"
"I'm sure. I always remember it. Ten years ago!…"
Alan narrowed his eyes, stared at the expression of Priest Mekart, and asked in a low and hoarse female voice.
"Priest of Prepecha, what seems to have occurred to you?"
"This...ten years ago? Ten years ago!"
Priest Mekart's forehead was sweating. He had studied at Shenwei University for several years, and he knew clearly that ten years ago, the writing in Mexica was still the graphic writing of Mohu.
The now clear square characters are said to have been created by His Majesty Shulot, King Avit, and a group of priests and elders! According to the Rev. Bravo, the president of Sunway University, these square words were actually recorded by His Majesty in his sleep after being inspired by the gods when he was young...
"If you say so, who could have carved these words ten years ago..."
Priest Mecat's heart was trembling, and his fingers were trembling. He stood there blankly, muttering to himself.
"Impossible!...How is it possible?!...I must have thought too much..."
"Priest, what seems to have occurred to you?...Huh? This person surprises you? Hmm...You know him? But you can't believe it?"
Alan watched for a moment, carefully staring at the expression of Priest Mekart, his eyes gradually becoming sharper. Then, she suddenly took a step forward and grabbed the other person's clothes with force, almost lifting him up. At this moment, Chief Alan's eyes were filled with cold threats, but also concealed some unspeakable enthusiasm.
"Tell me! Who is he?"
"I...I'm not sure..."
"Tell me! Your guess!"
"He and I…"
Alan's strength was so strong that Priest Mekart was lifted up by the skirt of his clothes so hard that his whole body was shaking. His breathing was rapid, his face flushed, and he was speechless for a moment.
Seeing this, Alan raised his eyebrows and could barely hold back the excitement in his chest. She took a deep breath, let go of her hand, took a step back, and ordered coldly.
"Speak slowly and say whatever comes to mind! Don't lie! Otherwise...I'll kill you!"
"Uh...you...when you met the owner of the dagger...how...how old was he?"
"Um?"
Alan frowned, recalling the boy wearing a pointed hat, waistcoat, crotch cloth and moccasins in his memory, and answered hesitantly.
"Eleven or twelve years old? Maybe a little older. He is a little warrior in training..."
"Eleven or twelve years old? Ten years? Twenty-two years old?...Ah! Ah this!..."
Priest Mecat shuddered, and his fingers trembled again. At this moment, he was 80% sure of his guess. However, he still couldn't figure out when exactly His Majesty met this female chief of the Red Crow Tribe thousands of miles away in the north...
"You know?! Tell me! Who is he?"
"I…"
"Tell me! Otherwise..."
Alan's eyes were sharp, and he flipped the dagger in his hand and placed it on the neck of Priest Mekart. The cold blade cut through the skin with precision, drawing out shallow blood stains. And as long as the blade penetrates even half an inch deeper, it will lead to death!
"I…"
"explain!"
Feeling the sharp edge on his neck, Priest Mecat swallowed hard. His mind was at a loss, and he didn't know whether he should say anything. But when he looked at Alan's bright and hot eyes, it was like being pricked by the tip of a needle, and he spoke subconsciously.
"If you remember correctly... according to my guess... the person you met... he may be, should be... His Majesty..."
"What did you say? Who!"
"The King of the Lake Kingdom, His Highness of the Mexica Alliance, the 'God of Death' Shulot!..."
"Ah?...Ah!"
Alan's whole body was shocked, and his bright eyes flashed violently for a while like flames in the strong wind. Then, she stared into Mecat's eyes, looking at the face without any trace of lying, and asked again.
"Are you sure? You didn't lie?!"
"The Lord God witnesses! I'm...sure!"
Priest Mecat pursed his lips and swallowed his dry saliva.
"Ten years ago, the words on these squares had not yet been implemented in the Alliance... and the only person who could possibly carve them was His Majesty Shulot... And the age you described does indeed match..."
"I originally thought that the 'Shulote' here was the abbreviated name of the God of Death, 'Shulote'. But now it seems that this should be His Majesty's name, the name he carved with his own hands, 'Shulote' …”
"Can I ask, under what circumstances did you meet His Majesty when you were a boy? And why did he give you a dagger engraved with his name?..."
"What?! The King of the Lake? His Highness the God of Death?...It's you! It's you!..."
Alan staggered back, his whole body trembling with shock, and his eyes became a little vacant. She ignored Priest Mecat's inquiry and fell into her distant memories. At this moment, it was like there were several thunder blasts in her ears, telling her a fact that was both unbelievable and extremely real.
"It turns out...Xulot...is...your name!..."
Alan stood there in a daze, clenching the dagger in his hand tightly, and couldn't help shouting in his heart.
"It's you!..."
In this brief moment, the handsome young man with a smile in her memory was like the surface of a lake that had been hit by a heavy rain, and suddenly it swelled up. Then, when the lake calmed down again, the reflection engraved in the lake suddenly turned into the indifferent king who could not see his face clearly in the distance during the Northern March in the wilderness, wearing a platinum cloth mask and standing under the banner of the Black Wolf King... the one who defeated The canine-born coalition forces forced the Red Crow tribe to move eastward, which she deeply hated and yearned for the enemy chieftain who wanted to kill with an arrow! …
"Get out! People of Prepecha!"
After a while, Alan shouted in a suppressed voice with red eyes.
"You all get out too! Don't leave any one behind! Yuan Shao! Look at the tent door!"
"Yes! Chief!"
"Well?…"
Chihuaco, an old militiaman, looked shocked. Together with the hesitant Priest Mecat, they were taken out of the camp by the canine warriors. Soon, there was no one left in the spacious tent. There was only a Huastec girl of thirteen or fourteen years old, holding a short spear, guarding the door of the big tent.
"Ah!...Ah!...I found you!...It's you!..."
There was no one in the tent, and Alan could no longer suppress the excitement in his heart and shouted loudly. At this moment, full of joy, anger, sorrow, and mixed feelings, the two people who were unforgettable in her memory suddenly overlapped. That extremely complicated feeling was completely beyond her comprehension.
"Mexicans, are my enemies!... And you, you are... damn!"
Alan gritted his teeth, grabbed the hanging long bow, lifted a pot of feather arrows, and pointed at a captured bronze armor, "swish", it was five arrows!
"Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Cang!..."
At this moment, her mind went blank and she showed the most terrifying shooting skills! Five consecutive feather arrows were fired at the same position of the armor one after another until they penetrated the solid bronze armor!
"Huh...huh!...Shoot you to death!"
The surging emotions were like an erupting volcano. And when the volcano fell silent for a while, the tent was already in chaos. Equally messy is the silent person in the tent.
"Huh...huh..."
Alan took off his silver mask and threw it into the quiver. Her heroic face, sharply curved nose, and flaming red lips were revealed in the deserted tent. She gasped softly and pressed her chest hard, feeling the tight corset and the tight swelling feeling. She felt the movement in her heart, a desire she had never experienced before, a strong desire to conquer, surging in her upright body.
"I am Alan the Eagle Shooter! I am the chief of the Red Crow Tribe!...I am not the powerless little girl, and you are not just the little boy who saved me..."
Alan whispered to himself, the light flashing in his eyes like dangerous flames. At this moment, she remembered again the heroic oath she had made in front of Amosi!
"I will sit on a four-legged beast, blow a horn, and rule thousands of tribes in the north. I will raise a high tide and surge towards my homeland in the south!..."
"I am the Red Crow Chief. I conquered the northern tribes and came back with a great victory. I created 10 new elite centurions!... Now, in my hands, I have 30 elite centurions and 50 tribal centurions that can be recruited... They were able to conquer thousands of miles with me and conquer one tribe after another...and all of this happened in just two years!..."
For the Red Crow Alliance, they use the hunting wilderness tribe as the core of their rule, and the ratio of soldiers to civilians is astonishingly high. At present, with a population of more than 200,000, the Red Crow Alliance can recruit about 30,000 tribal warriors. In the north controlled by Alan, there are 3,000 retired elites and 5,000 conscripted tribesmen. What’s even more exaggerated is that the military force of these wilderness tribes does not even require much logistical maintenance costs, and they are also good at running long distances...
"Ten years ago, you stood in front of me, touched my face, rubbed my head, and let me go north... Five years ago, you led your army to the north and drove the Red Crow tribe away from where they had just settled. Plateau, rushed to the east more than a thousand miles away..."
Having said this, Alan raised his head and looked at the open ceiling of the big tent and at the twinkling stars in the sky. She took a deep breath, with a boiling fire burning in her heart, and made her vows loudly!
"Ancestors witness! One day, I will let you kneel in front of me and look up at my chin! I will reach out my hand, hold your chin, and look down at your face!... I will rub your hair, Tell you to go south and escape as far away as possible..."
Thinking of this scene, Alan's face turned red, his heart surged, and his whole body became warm. The burning desire to conquer, boiling and burning, is like an inexhaustible driving force, driving her forward! At this moment, she finally had a clear goal, as the Red Crow Chief!
"You captured me once and let me go once...I will also capture you and let you go once...Then, I will hunt you again, chasing you for thousands of miles...hunting the most noble condor on the plateau!...Hmph! …”
Alan, the eagle shooter, pursed his red lips, picked up the cold silver mask, and put it on his face again. She laughed like a girl, and immediately lowered her voice into a deep and majestic female voice.
"Haha! When I catch you...I won't give you a dagger with my name engraved on it..."
"I will directly engrave my name on your body!"
"Whether you are His Highness the Mexica people or the king of the Prepecha people..."
"Xulot...you are all my prey!"
