Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America! Chapter 373 - 188: The Village by the Lake3

Everyone looked towards Chiwaco together. The old Militia lowered his head in silence for a mont, rubbed his face with his hand, then lifted his head, his face breaking into a smile. Then, with the accent he had learned from the north, he spoke respectfully.

"Great Master, we are Militia from the northern Akanbaro State! The xica arrived too quickly, the Masters from the north didn’t have enough ti to resist, and many people scattered and fled... We were originally following a Great Master with a turkey crest, headed to the Capital City to garrison. But the Great Master moved too quickly, we couldn’t catch up, got scattered here, and have been looking everywhere for his tracks..."

The Hummingbird Samurai thought about the turkey crest, which indeed seed to belong to a Fief up north. He looked at the militia’s Copper Spears, then at the age of these n and slowly nodded.

"Don’t go looking for your Great Master anymore! Now, on behalf of the Chief Minister, I declare that you have been conscripted by Qinchongcan City, to serve the holy trinity of gods and the most exalted Royal Family! Pack up, don’t bring any miscellaneous items, and follow imdiately!"

The old Militia looked at the well-equipped Samurai in front of him and then at the other Militia. At that mont, everyone obediently nodded. They picked up their Long Spears and boarded the small boats with the Samurai, then headed for the "Land of the Hummingbird," the Capital City Qinchongcan. Before leaving, Ayuli took one last look at the bag of corn he had left behind, glanced at the shadow in the corner, scratched his head again, and followed the others away.

The desolate village quieted down again, the bonfire flickering dimly, with only the faint sound of crying in the wind. After a good while, the crying gradually stopped, and the ignored old Itong got up from the ground. He wiped the mud and tears from his face, hunched over, and shakily picked up the remaining bag of corn. Clutching the heavy bag of corn tightly, he slowly approached the fire, squatted down, and picked up the corn cobs that the Militia had just discarded. Then, gnawing on the muddy remnants of corn as if devouring the last vestiges of hope, until there was nothing left.

Chiwaco followed the Hummingbird Samurai, rowing across the silent lake. As he looked at the blurry bodies floating in the water, he couldn’t find the face that had accompanied him throughout his life. He observed the deserted islands in the lake, and mories of the past flooded his mind. In the many New Years he had lived through, the lake would be dotted with boats, villagers from all directions coming to trade local produce on the islands in the lake, singing and dancing. Town Priests would also occasionally co to preside over grand prayer ceremonies, extolling the three gods that protect the Tarasco people.

He had shared these monts of rare joy amidst hard work with his family, now turned into fleeting illusions. The remnants of laughter from the mories carried on the wind, as if they were still beside him...

The breeze dispersed the laughter and took away the figures, leaving only the desolate wind. On the lake, only a sparse number of patrolling warships remained, the Samurai and Militia gripping their weapons tightly, nervously watching the north. xica Scouts crossed the Huayamo Fortress, appearing on the edge of the Lake Region, and the fearso army was already not far off.

It only took half a day of sailing for everyone to reach the lakeshore. Chiwaco awoke from his reverie, and before him now was the bustling Kingdom Capital, Qinchongcan City.

He watched the majestic city, the center of the world in the myths. He gazed at the high city walls, twice as strong as the Rivermouth stronghold. He observed the sacred "House of Wind," a cluster of pyramids standing for a century, the holy residence of the Priests. Lastly, he beheld the solemn "Palace of Wind," the supre palace of the King, the heart of the Kingdom’s rule.

The grand Copper Capital stood firm by the lakeshore, unchanged for hundreds of years. It was, in Chiwaco’s mind, the most bustling place in the world, and the final quest of his life.