Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!
Chapter 454 - 227 Goodbye

The vast night wind, rising from the campfire, fused into the limitless, dark sky. It soared towards the northwest, passing over the Mexica camp where singing lasted through the night, crossing the silent expanse of wilderness, until it reached the cold, solemn plains of the Lake Region.

The night was deep, the night was slowly brightening. Desolate villages scattered across the fields, where the occasional sparkle of torches flickered dimly between them, snuffed out one by one in the night wind. And on the far horizon, faint glimmers of light began to emerge once more, outlining the shadow of a grand city.

The old militiaman Chiwaco, holding a long spear, stood in front of an abandoned house. He stared blankly at the brightening sky for a while, then silently eyed the Capital City on the horizon, sighed with a mind full of thoughts, and turned to enter the dwelling.

In the spacious interior, more than a dozen warriors born from the militia lay scattered about. Weizti, his head wrapped in a headscarf, sat cross-legged in a corner, nodding forlornly to his uncle. Chiwaco grunted, looked around. The other old brothers were all present, yawning while they tended to their leather armor, beside them, long spears, and short daggers readied.

"Quickly! Day is breaking! Get up, everyone! As soon as we can see the ground beneath our feet, we march!"

The old militiaman called out loudly, hastening to the center of the large house. The men got to their feet and bustled about, all except for Captain Puap, who still lay with his eyes shut tight, sleeping like a turkey. Chiwaco bent down to see the sweat on the forehead of the Warrior Captain, who was mumbling incoherently in his sleep, looking every bit like a dozy, foolish owl.

The old militiaman curled his lip and slapped Puap’s face. The Warrior Captain shivered, rolled over with a jerk, and curled up into a hedgehog again.

"Captain, Captain! It’s time to depart! Wake up, wake up now!"

At the sound, Puap stirred groggily and shook his head. In his slumber, he raised an arm and covered his ears with his shoulder, continuing to curl into a ball.

Seeing this, Chiwaco’s face darkened and his brow furrowed.

Yesterday, the Mexica had pursued them relentlessly. The trailing squadrons were utterly scattered, the screams of distress never ceased behind them. Fortunately, they were all militiamen familiar with the rural paths, sprinting briskly. They had fled like rabbits throughout the evening and finally lost the Mexica far behind. When night fully fell and their torches burned out, leaving them blind to the path beneath their feet, they stopped to rest in a desolate village.

The fleeing brothers were exhausted. As soon as they lay down, they fell deep asleep. Only the Warrior Captain was sighing and tossing all night, muttering about the King, the Chief, without a trace of his usual sharpness, not even knowing when he had fallen asleep...

The old militiaman glanced around; the brothers all seemed ready. No longer waiting, he raised his right hand, gave the Warrior Captain a hard slap, and then shouted loudly.

"Captain, the Jaguar Warriors are catching up!"

"What? Jaguars?! Let’s go, quick!"

Puap jolted awake from his dream. Like a rabbit, he sprang from the ground, frantically searching for his weapons. The old militiaman forced a smile, shook the Warrior Captain’s arm, and said respectfully.

"Captain, day is breaking, and the Mexica are right behind us. Let’s hurry!"

Puap looked around, saw the fully equipped militiamen, and took a deep breath. He raised his hand, about to slap Chiwaco back, but the old militiaman stepped back, a smile in his eyes, while his hand gripped the sharp long spear. Puap paused his hand midair, turned to look around, his pupils contracted slightly, then he too put on a smile and warmly patted the old militiaman’s shoulder.

"Good, good! Chi, we owe a lot to you and the brothers on this journey! When we return to the Capital City, I will personally speak for your valor in front of the Chief!"

Chiwaco nodded respectfully, silent with a smile. He looked to the surrounding militia and then called out sternly.

"You blockheads, come and help the Captain don his armor!"

Under the leadership of a few old brothers, the surrounding militiamen obeyed and helped Puap into his leather armor. The Warrior Captain looked around; most of his trusted samurais were lost in the night, leaving only the close-knit militia... He paused then nodded amiably to everyone, wisely remaining silent.

As the sky grew lighter, the remnants had also finished preparing their gear. They gathered from the surrounding houses, numbering fifty or sixty.

The old militiaman inspected them closely; half were remnants from unknown factions, their armor severely damaged. Chiwaco thought for a moment, then dispatched subordinates to roughly organize the remnants into squads, bringing them crudely under control. Soon, just as the sky began to lighten, the old militiaman asked Puap to raise the Captain’s banner, leading everyone on the road hastily.

Outside the village, the veteran scout Necali, with several sharp warriors, was making a fire for cooking in the wild, resting for a moment. He was the most elite scout, always well-fed, and could navigate by moonlight. After the great battle, as the Mexica warriors pursued relentlessly night after night, reinforcements from the Capital City were routed, mostly captured without a fight like turkeys. Necali was the one who had fought through the night, rushed all the way to this point.

The fire flickered, softening the watery corn cakes, steam also carrying the scent of blood from the armor. Necali wiped his hands on the long grass, leaving behind a dark red bloodstain. Then, he grabbed a hot corn cake, devouring it hungrily, finishing it in a few bites.

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