Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!
Chapter 974 - 576: The Prisoners of Mistec

Chapter 974: Chapter 576: The Prisoners of Mistec

Mid-September, the rainy season is coming to an end. In the fertile fields of the Teotihuacan Valley, green and golden hues intertwine, signaling the harvest of corn. From north to south in the valley, life flourishes everywhere, yet no signs of bustling crowds.

Flocks of colorful buntings descend from the sky, boldly perching on the corn. They sway their vibrant head feathers, break open the lush green husks, pecking at the just-mature kernels, one by one. Ring-tailed raccoons also emerge from the mountain forest, with innocent yet worried faces, cautiously extending long arms to stealthily snatch ears of corn from the fields.

The boorish peccaries don’t bother with all these details. They move in herds, rushing out from the muddy marsh, exuding a stench that won’t dissipate. Central America’s peccaries, also called "Leader West Wild Boar", "Skunk Pig", resemble the wild boars of the Old Continent in appearance but are slightly smaller in size, with sharper tusks and greater aggressiveness.

In fact, these skunk pigs, rather than being called "pigs," are more like "skunks." Their meat is so foul in taste that even tribespeople accustomed to eating insects and ants find it difficult to swallow. Nonetheless, they are numerous, very strong fighters, and without fearsome two-legged beasts, they hardly have predators in the southern mountain forests. At this moment, these peccaries storm into the cornfields, using their powerful hooves to uproot mature plants, then gorge themselves.

"Woo!...Woo!..."

The desolate sound of a horn suddenly echoes in the south valley, startling a flock of flying birds. Raccoons wag their long tails, clutching corn, and flee in panic. Peccaries cluster together, hiding in the cornfields. They squint their little eyes warily, gazing at the dirt road trampled by travelers not far away. Shortly after, a terrifying horde of two-legged beasts appear before their eyes.

"Ha! Glug-glug!"

Peccaries, flaunting their tusks, growl lowly to intimidate the approaching two-legged beasts. Yet the approaching beings increase in number, letting out terrifying sharp howls.

"Glug-glug!"

"Woo, Storm-controlling Rain Divine, please bring down the thunderbolt, slay the cruel Northern Barbarians, save your devout citizens! ~ Ugh!... Huff Huff..."

A shining copper spear swiftly thrusts out, startling the roadside peccaries. They know the terrifying nature of these two-legged beasts’ tusks that can effortlessly slay many of their kind. A group of ten or so assembled peccaries turn to flee, leaving behind a crowd of crying Mistec tribespeople and the slowly falling body of a chieftain.

"Plop!"

The red-haired Canine Hunter, Chabo, glaring with eyes, withdraws the sharp copper spear from the chieftain’s neck. Then, he wipes the blood-stained tip on the chieftain’s hair, avoiding the opponent’s clothing. Subsequently, he gazes at the bloodstained coarse cloth cotton robe on the chieftain’s body, feeling slightly regretful.

"Such sturdy robes are rare in the wilderness. Even if stained with blood, a wash could still make them wearable..."

Red-haired Hunter Chabo thinks for a moment, glances at the captives being escorted. He randomly points out one bare and hunched tribesman.

"You, take off his clothes, wear them, carry them."

"Ah? What? Clothes? Carry?"

Upon hearing the Barbarian Samurai’s words, Tribesman Didi stands frozen, perplexed. He doesn’t understand the northern Navajo language and can barely comprehend a few common words: "clothes" and "carry."

"You!"

Hunter Chabo waves the long spear, glaring. The Southern Tribes’ language, he barely comprehends either. He straightforwardly strips the chieftain’s robe himself, then tosses it to Tribesman Didi, also making a wearing gesture.

"Ah, this! This is noble attire, I, I am a lowly ant citizens, how can I wear?..."

Didi understands the Barbarian Samurai’s gesture but becomes increasingly fearful. In the Mistek Language, his name "didi" means ant on the ground. And within the Mistek tribes, he is the most humble of the low-status tribespeople, lacking even his own clothing.

"You! Wear it, carry on! Mine. If not, die!"

Hunter Chabo shows impatience, again raising the sharp copper spear at Tribesman Didi. Ant citizen Didi shivers all over, instantly donning the chieftain’s robe over himself, stained with the noble’s blood. Then, he bends down his hunched back, also carries the heavy basket behind the chieftain on his back.

The surrounding tribespeople look askance, gazing at the fierce red-haired barbarians, showing deep fear. Then, looking at Didi wearing the chieftain’s clothing, they exhibit anger and hatred.

Ant citizen Didi, burdened with a bamboo basket, shudders again. But Hunter Chabo has already lost interest in him. He squints his eyes, watching the peccaries that scattered after a dozen steps and are now regrouping, his left hand already reaching for the greatbow behind him.

"These are Southern stinky pigs. Just like those in the wilderness, none are edible."

Another red-haired Hunter, Mique, shakes his head, restraining Chabo’s hand. If you ask how he knows, well, he once tried it. That experience is truly one best forgotten.

"Fruit-tree Chabo, the loot from this raid is sufficient, no need to waste precious arrows!"

Mique speaks softly to Chabo, his eyes on the basket Didi is carrying.

"Southern stinky pigs? Bah!"

Upon hearing this, Hunter Chabo furrows his brow, spits distastefully. In the food-scarce wilderness, each time forced to eat stinky pig meat is a nauseating ordeal. The taste is akin to eating swamp mud rotted for many years.

And interestingly enough, Chabo’s name originates from a fruit tree, Tzapoyo, while Mique’s name comes from another tree, Mesquite, mesquite. Both are named after trees and actually hail from the same wilderness tribe, now part of the same flag team.

"Southern corn, good! Southern stinky pigs, bad! Southern tribes, wealthy, populous, can’t fight, extremely good, are Earth Mother Goddess’s blessings!... Uh, right, also must praise the Chief Divine!"

Hunter Chabo extends his rough, reddened hand, clasping the sun amulet around his neck, together with Hunter Mique, earnestly offering prayers. Over a hundred Canine Warriors surrounding them bow their heads, praising the divine heavens, celebrating the supreme Chief Divine.

"Praise Chief Divine, Huitzilopochtli! He is supreme and great, greater than Earth Mother Goddess! Awoo!..."

Looking at the praying, shouting Barbarian Samurai, thousands of captured young tribespeople lower their heads, feeling despondent, not making a sound. During these captive days, they’ve also prayed to the Rain Divine they believe in. Yet the Rain Divine’s protection, like the vanishing storm, has been slow to arrive. Day by day, they are escorted by red-haired barbarians, leaving the fertile valley south, headed to unknown barbarian lands.

The towering Cloud Temple appears on the horizon, drawing nearer, and the towering Divine Stone City lies not far to the west. As they watch, they are about to leave Xavi Land, thus utterly losing the Rain Divine’s protection... Thinking of this, some tribespeople lower their heads, silently crying.

Ant citizen Didi does not cry. Instead, he blinks, watches the Barbarian Samurai shouting to the sun. He listens to their words, trying hard to remember a repeated keyword, "Huitzilopochtli!"

The brief prayer quickly concludes, and the return journey is just ahead. Canine Warriors celebrate joyously, hollering in the Northern dialect, escorting a multitude of tenfold Mistec captives. The right hands of the captives are firmly bound together with agave ropes, with nothing metallic or stone on their bodies. Meanwhile, the armed Canine Warriors carry copper spears and bronze axes, with greatbows strapped to their backs.

The Mistec captives can only lower their heads, bearing bamboo baskets filled with food and treasures, trudging towards the uncertain northwest. The rumors of Aztec Alliance human sacrifices echo in their minds, rendering the path northward exceptionally arduous and hesitant.

But the Rain Divine’s salvation never arrives. And the Rain Divine’s warriors curl inside the sturdy Divine Stone City, witnessing the Mexica pillaging vast amounts, without daring any slightest harassment. Or perhaps they’ve long evaded the Rain Divine’s notice, secretly reaching a pact of betrayal against the divine.