Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!
Chapter 683 - 358: The End of 1485, The So-Called Redemption

Chapter 683: Chapter 358: The End of 1485, The So-Called Redemption

November 1485, near the mouth of the Congo River entering the sea, on the land ruled by the local chieftain Soyo—a coastal fishing village.

The tumultuous Congo River poured into the Atlantic Ocean here, without forming the common river delta. Instead, it had carved out a deep drowned valley along the coast. Relying on the rivermouth’s abundant fishing resources, the tribe settled here, forming a peaceful fishing village. On ordinary days, children ran through the village, women bustled about, and the air was filled with vitality.

As the sun set in the west, three caravels were docked alongside the riverbank. A deathly silence loomed over the native fishing village, with the smell of blood permeating the air. The frenzied carnage had just ended, and the beastly desires had been temporarily satiated. At this moment, one or two hundred fresh corpses, regardless of age or gender, were piled upon the central altar of the village, with large bundles of straw covering them.

"Haha! Killing the heathens is rescuing their souls! Haha! And taking their possessions, that’s a gift from the Almighty!"

Sailor Chief Diego laughed heartily, shouting with satisfaction as he touched the straw on the altar with the torch in his hand. The twenty or so sailors surrounding him equally looked content, setting fire to the native huts. Behind the sailors were the large bags of looted goods. Seven or eight young, black-skinned women, barely clothed, were strung together with hemp rope, kneeling in front of the burning village, crying desperately.

The raging fire rose quickly, destroying all evidence of the crime. Afterwards, the sailors divided the plundered goods amongst themselves, shouldered the bags of grain, and, dragging the staggering women, they headed towards the boats by the river.

The exploration fleet was running out of food. Seizing the opportunity to resupply upon landing, Sailor Chief Diego had gathered nearly thirty sailors from the three ships, along with five breastplates and three matchlock guns, to attack this small fishing village of a couple of hundred people.

Facing the ferocious sailors, the common native village had no power to resist. The sailors first used matchlock guns to shoot down three native warriors, then the armored sailors took the lead in chopping down the able-bodied men, with the rest of the sailors encircling from all sides. In just a quarter of an hour, the peaceful village had turned into a hell of slaughter. The sailors wielded their curved blades, skilfully slaughtering the villagers, not letting a single soul escape to avoid attracting the wrath of the native chieftain’s warriors.

Of course, Diego was not worried about native warriors. The fleet would soon enter the Atlantic Ocean and start the long journey home. Even if the native warriors gave chase, they would not be able to catch up. Thinking this, he laughed loudly, calling out to the other two ships’ sailors.

"Foda-se! Today was a blast! But there’s not much gold here among the natives. When we get to the Gold Coast, we’ll go out and do this a couple more times!"

"Alright! Boss Diego, we’ll follow your lead!"

"Foda-se! Following Boss Diego is the best!"

"That’s true! We’ve finally come out alive from the devil’s land, even killing has become more efficient!"

"Haha!"

Hearing the compliments from the sailors on the other ships, Diego laughed contentedly. Then, he gestured towards the native women.

"Come, two for each ship, take them back and enjoy!"

Upon hearing this, the sailors from the other two ships glanced at each other. They were tempted, but no one dared to accept the offer. During the Age of Exploration, discipline on transoceanic vessels was very strict. To boost the morale of the sailors, captains of various nationalities would tacitly allow their men to plunder ashore, but they certainly wouldn’t permit women on board. In fact, even the most brutal pirate captains, unless they had degenerated to a certain extent, would never allow women on their ships.

"No, Boss Diego, you keep the women! It’s getting late; we need to hurry back to the ship with our loot."

The sailors from the two ships hesitated slightly but decided to decline. They bid farewell and quickly boarded the small boat to return.

"Foda-se! These gutless hyenas!"

Diego cursed under his breath. It wasn’t easy to incite the sailors to rebel unless they were in a dire situation. It seemed he would need to make more connections and get rid of all the nobility on board. Thinking this, he sneered viciously, and waving his dagger, he bellowed at his trusted men.

"Foda-se! Let’s go! Take the women. We’re in charge of the flagship now!"

Over a dozen sailors, laughing and jesting, first tossed the goods and grain onto the small boat, then dragged the women to another small boat, and together they rowed towards the flagship.

As a light exploration vessel, the caravel had a low freeboard. Seeing the small boats approach, the flagship threw down three-meter-long climbing rope ladders.

Looking up, Diego grabbed the rope ladder and climbed up first, shouting with confusion as he did so.

"Matim, why are you with so many sailors, standing on deck?"

Quartermaster Matim’s face was stiff, and the corners of his mouth twitched. After a pause, he shouted back.

"The guys just couldn’t wait to see what you’ve plundered!"

"Foda-se! We agreed in advance that the food goes to the ship’s storeroom, and you don’t get a share of the loot! As for the women, well, we can all enjoy them together!"

Hearing that there were women involved, Matim’s mouth twitched even more violently. He said nothing, waiting for Diego to board.

"Haha! Guys on the ship, as long as you stick with me, there will be food, drink, and..."

Excited to board the ship, Diego had barely started to yell when his words suddenly halted. His face turned ashen in an instant, and his fingers started to tremble.

"Matim, you..."

Matim lowered his eyes, sighing softly.

Two steps behind him, five musketeers crouched in a row, each holding a loaded matchlock gun, all aiming at Diego who had just boarded. The guns’ touch holes were open, with lit match cords dangling at the metal serpents, burning slowly and unsteadily. From a few steps away, if the musketeers only lightly pulled the triggers, the lethal lead balls would shoot out, punch through Diego’s breastplate, and blast a gaping, bloody hole. And beside the musketeers, ten elite soldiers, each clad in breastplates or leather armor, held sharp curved blades, ready to strike.