Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!
Chapter 956 - 561: The King’s Martial Prowess

Chapter 956: Chapter 561: The King’s Martial Prowess

In August, torrential rains poured down, stretching a vast curtain of rain across the undulating mountains. The tears of the Rain Divine transformed into a Heavenly River, the roars of the Fire God turned into waves of heat, entangling and descending from the heavens, sweeping across the land of the Mexican Plateau. With the sun often obscured by clouds, and the air hot and rainy, this was the vibrant peak of summer, during the height of the rainy season.

King Aweit held the Divine Staff, ascended the head of Tree Snake City, looking northward at Cloud Serpent Mountain City. His expression was serene, with a slight smile, yet tinged with some discontent for not having completed his task.

Gazing around, everywhere was lush and green, bursting with life. Flocks of birds soared in the sky, and American vultures circled the mountaintops. The lush forests rose and fell at the horizon’s edge, painting the northern mountains with a shade of green. The fertile fields by the river were filled with over a meter high wild grasses, even concealing the trails of warriors.

In the summer of the Tlaxcala Basin, everywhere was an abundance of green vitality. Yet beneath this surface vitality, lay cold cruelty. The vast basin showed no traces of thriving populations, had burned out affluent villages, and hope for continuity vanished.

"Villages burned out, able-bodied men died away, fields entirely desolated... the Northern Tlaxcala States will surely suffer a great famine this year! And among the nearly ten thousand Tlaxcala remnants fleeing into the mountains, food will certainly be scarce, forcing them to abandon the elderly and weak, resorting to cannibalism..."

Gillim narrowed his eyes, watching the northern mountains, pondering silently. After the Eastern campaign, the Tlaxcala states will become the fief of the little prince. If the army could distribute food and induce the Tlaxcala remnants in the mountains to surrender, it could preserve the vigor of the fief to a greater extent.

However, to swiftly conquer Tree Snake City, the Northern Army did relentless assaults day and night, enduring significant losses. The two Royal Legions leading the main attack suffered casualties of up to two thousand warriors and two thousand militia. Among the warriors’ losses were over five hundred elite Copper Armor!

And the three City-State Armies faced even more severe losses, including night raids, suffered casualties of up to three thousand warriors and four thousand militia. Altogether, this resulted in eleven thousand casualties, nearly half of which were warriors! This brief siege battle was indeed more brutal than the previous Feathered Serpent City battle!

"So many casualties in the siege of a stronghold, each legion filled with murderous intent... there’s no way to plead on behalf of the Tlaxcala people."

Thinking of this, Gillim shook his head. As the Chief Intelligence Officer, he knew the actions of each legion. He also believed in making use of people fully, and did not favor needless slaughter. But given such army morale, without a word from the King, there’s no way to restrain them.

With such heavy casualties by the Northern Route Army, after capturing Tree Snake City, they naturally showed no restraint. Of the more than twenty thousand residents of Tree Snake City, once captured, only over three thousand women and children were left as prisoners, and one or two thousand Divine Descendants and warriors as sacrifices. As for the remaining five thousand warriors and over nine thousand able-bodied men, all were turned into corpses, not knowing whether they died during the siege or in the aftermath of the city’s cleansing.

At this point in the Eastern campaign, two of the four serpent cities were annihilated, seven or eight out of ten of the Tlaxcala Tribes gone. Among the northern Tlaxcala states, there were once four hundred thousand core tribes, capable of fighting ten thousand men, leading the four states of the north and south. But now, those four hundred thousand tribes were either massacred, captured, or dispersed and fled. The ten thousand men capable of fighting, over sixty thousand have been killed, nearly thirty thousand captured, soon to become sacrifices in the grand festival...

Beneath these rough numbers lay endless bloodshed, thorough conquest. And after the Eastern campaign, the name of the nemesis, the Tlaxcala people, would soon sink to the bottom of the Texcoco River, buried in the turbid silt, fading from the world!

"Gillim."

Aweit gazed at the northern mountains, neither turning back nor glancing at the wild grass beneath his feet.

"Your Majesty."

Gillim respectfully bowed his head, pulling back his wandering thoughts. He glanced at the wild grass beneath his feet, but the grass would not linger in his heart.

"Do you think, in this Eastern campaign, have I conquered the Tlaxcala people?"

Aweit squinted, looking at the faintly visible fortress in the mountains, silently tightening his grip on the Divine Staff.

"Your Majesty. You have conquered the Tlaxcala people! All tribes that resisted to the end, unwilling to submit, have been erased by the army. And after the victory festival, the Divine Descendants of the Tlaxcala people will disappear from the world!"

Gillim bowed respectfully, answering confidently.

"Yes. But, there are still two serpent cities not conquered."

Aweit slowly nodded, his expression calm. There was little joy on his face. His cold gaze turned eastward, seemingly reaching toward the endless Great Lake.

"There are still the Totonac people of the East, the Mistec people of the Southeast, the Vastek people further South, and the Maya people far to the East... still unconquered!"

"Your Majesty..."

Gillim pursed his lips. He bowed his head, carefully choosing his words, subtly advising.

"The altar atop Divine Mountain is constructed with solid rock, piece by piece... If rushed or empty, there’s a danger of collapse. The current priority is to solidify the alliance, control the priests within the Capital City...

"I urge you to quickly lead the main forces of the Royal Family back to the Lake Capital City, stabilize the alliance and its surroundings!... As for the remaining two mountain cities and hill cities, leave them to His Highness Xiulote, who excels in warfare!..."

"Yes. You speak wisely."

Aweit nodded, exhaling softly. Then, he turned southward, a smile appeared on his face.

"Calculating, the envoys dispatched should have already arrived!"

The king’s gaze seemed to span hundreds of miles, through the vast desolate Tlaxcala Basin, through the burnt ruins of the Cholula Holy City, to the cold towering Smoke Peak Divine Mountain, reaching the bustling camp of Water Valley City.

Outside the main camp at Water Valley City, the lush green fields stretch endlessly. Tens of thousands of Mexica Warriors are stationed here, while hundreds of thousands of Tlaxcala farmers are tirelessly working.

The August fields are bursting with vitality; the tall corn has already tasseled. It is the fastest-growing, most fertile, and most water-demanding season. The land, after the battles, is always exceptionally fertile. The accompanying Priest, who manages the civilian settlements, brought with them new compost techniques. The excellent growth of this season’s corn astounds the Tlaxcala elders who cultivate it. Many begin to pray to the Chief Divine for an abundant harvest in the fall.

At this moment, the Royal Banner of Black Wolf still stands high above Water Valley City. Xiulote sits cross-legged in the great hall, lost in thought as he gazes intently at the map in front of him.

In just over two months, time has already left its mark on the young man’s face. The exhilarated laughter in his eyes has faded, replaced by a calm depth. The youthful arrogance on his face has diminished, replaced by a seasoned steadiness.

Life and death, poignant and unforgettable... there are always people willing to let you grow through their life. There’s always a love that matures you after loss... and there will always be farewells that render the romantic boyhood irretrievable.

Xiulote stretches out his hand, slowly tracing the markings on the map towards the south. In his eyes, a faint killing intent is revealed, alongside the coldness of a mature commander.

"Bertade, where has Black Wolf’s legion reached?"

Upon hearing this, Bertade composedly responds, extending his hand to lightly indicate beneath Flower Grove Fort.

"Your Highness, Black Wolf’s Guajili Legion has already captured Flower Grove Fort, with over four thousand enemy casualties or prisoners. The Guajili Legion and Tlaxcala Defectors Camp are currently resting in Flower Grove Fort. Meanwhile, the Vanguard Canine Descendants squad is less than a hundred miles from the Mistec’s northern fortress, Divine Stone City Tehuacán!"

Divine Stone City Tehuacán, referred to in later generations as "Tehuacán," means "Land of Gods" or "Place of Stone" in the Navajo language. In the words of the Mistec people, it’s called "An Ancient Place of Divine Rest, a Fertile Valley with Temples Standing."

The valley where Divine Stone City is located is the Tehuacán Valley. Not only does this valley host the ancient Divine Stone City, but it also contains numerous ancient sites and many small pyramid temples. In fact, this area is one of the earliest regions where corn was domesticated, with maize grain samples unearthed from later generations dating back to 3600 BC.

In this era, Divine Stone City is the Mistec people’s most important northern city-state stronghold. Meanwhile, the Tehuacán Valley itself is a wealthy valley where tens of thousands of Mistec tribes gather.

"Very good!"

Xiulote nods with satisfaction. Then, after a little thought, he inquires in a deep voice.

"The rainy season is difficult, and expeditions are not easy... Bertade, tell me the truth! What are the actual casualties of Black Wolf’s army in capturing Flower Grove Fort?"

"Your Highness, in the two-month expedition, the Guajili Legion’s casualties did total only five hundred, and they have been replenished from the Defectors Camp."

At this, Bertade paused, slightly bowing his head.

"However, the five thousand troops from the Tlaxcala Defectors Camp under his command... have nearly been exhausted."

Upon hearing this, Xiulote’s brow twitched, his expression changed drastically. He pursed his lips and said nothing. After a moment of contemplation, his emotions gradually calmed, and his gaze turned indifferent.

"Select another five thousand able-bodied men from the captured Tlaxcala, and send them to Black Wolf! Prioritize those with battlefield experience as warriors... tell him, it’s the busy season for farming now, the Mistec can’t spare too many militia... continue southward, besiege Divine Stone City, and set fire to the Tehuacán Valley!"

"Yes, Your Highness. As you command!"

Bertade bowed in acknowledgment, immediately summoning a trusted aide to arrange the dispatch of messengers.

Xiulote maintained a calm demeanor, continuing to look at the map in front of him. His gaze moved westward, pausing at the location of Little Willow Fort, a hundred miles south of Blade Road City. A moment later, he pressed his hand down firmly and gave another commanding order.

"Order the Yu Yan Legion to keep a close watch; don’t let the few thousand Mistec warriors escape from Little Willow Fort! Once the peak of the rainy season is over, the Imperial Guard Legion will act to completely remove this thorn in our side! Then, the three legions will advance south simultaneously from two routes to capture the Mistec’s Mountain River City in one fell swoop!"

At this point, Xiulote’s eyes became sharp, his killing intent burning like flames.

"Since the Mistec want to play with fire, I’ll ignite their western ancestral lands with a flame!"

"Your Highness..."

Seeing the killing intent in His Highness’s eyes, Bertade pursed his lips, hesitating before speaking. Over the past two months, His Highness’s propensity for killing had noticeably increased... After a few moments of silence, the loyal Head Warrior sighed quietly and bowed to comply.

"As you command!"

In a few words, the Southern Army’s strategy was thusly decided. Xiulote continued studying the map, while Bertade stood by his side. Both appeared somewhat lost in thought, and the great hall grew silent.

The serenity of high status is always brief. Many decisions concentrate towards supreme power, just as water flows to the lowlands. Several quarters later, Shield Guard Ters came from outside the hall, kneeling on the ground, loudly reporting.

"Your Highness, there is an envoy from the King, coming from the north!"