War knows no rcy.
When Chen Zhou decided to completely sweep through the Archipelago, the personal hatred between Sunday and the Tribe Leader beca a dispute between two forces.
And this dispute allows no leniency, even if the volley of firearms would take many lives, even if those people might beco future labor for the island.
But now, as they gathered with weapons in the dense forest, their identity was not that of ordinary Indigenous Warriors, but enemies—
To be rciful to the enemy is to be cruel to oneself!
...
Although Lisoben had not appeared before the tribe mbers for a long ti, his prestige had plumted due to his atrocities.
But people ultimately rembered his identity as a Chosen Warrior, believing that any war he participated in would always lead to victory.
The tribe had been dormant for too long, needing a brutal and bloody conflict to awaken the numb nerves of the people.
Without a war declaration, when Lisoben appeared among the Indigenous Warriors with weapons, raising the Long Saber in his hand, all the Indigenous Warriors scread excitedly like beasts slling at.
Looking at their companions beside them, they seed to have returned to a few years ago, back to the last conflict initiated by the tribe, back to the ti of the "All People’s Feast" after enjoying victory.
The hungry Warriors vaguely slled the aroma of grilled at, and those eager to vent their repressed emotions yearned for the scarlet blood.
Awoooo!
They charged in a chaotic formation, led by the Leader, towards the high ground where the enemy was located.
From afar, Lisoben saw a line of Vine Shields standing upright on the mountain, and these unique instrunts inexplicably made him feel anxious.
He furrowed his brows tightly, his gaze locked on those Vine Shields, attempting to see through the Shield to the enemy hiding behind it.
However, including Sunday, none of the sailors were willing to expose their limbs outside of cover, and Lisoben’s observation was ineffective.
It was broad daylight, with the sun clearly illuminating the high ground, yet Lisoben felt as if he was in the middle of the night, facing a beast whose claws and fangs he could not see.
He didn’t know if this was an illusion, but he always felt that his death was imminent.
Thinking that the easy victories in past conflicts relied entirely on the help of outsiders.
This ti, feeling uncertain, before reaching the base of the high ground, Lisoben finally couldn’t suppress the unease in his heart and called for a trusted aide.
After instructing this aide to swiftly head to the gathering place of the outsiders and report the invasion of the island, only then did Lisoben feel slightly at ease.
In his impression, large-scale conflicts never end quickly.
The island was not large, and the outsiders lived by the sea. It wouldn’t take long for the Indigenous Warriors, running at full speed, to reach the outsiders’ residence, just about when he and the enemy should have just begun to engage.
Even if the outsiders were delayed for various reasons, they shouldn’t be completely defeated. Everything seed to be under control.
...
The thought of seeking help from the Spaniards had already consud most of Lisoben’s ntal energy, leaving him with no ti to observe the enemy’s movents.
As he led the Indigenous Warriors forward, he noticed that so overly excited tribe mbers were charging too quickly, and he couldn’t help but issue several commands for them to slow down—
To delay ti as much as possible so the outsiders could arrive earlier for support.
Moreover, the attack range of Wooden Spears and Wooden Arrows was not far, and their location was lower, not holding an advantageous position.
Having fought many battles, Lisoben knew that rushing in might incur significant losses, so he planned to wait until they were within casting distance before launching an all-out assault.
The Vine Shields erected on the slope were large but few in number, leading Lisoben to estimate that the enemy’s numbers were far less than theirs.
With absolute nurical superiority, Lisoben felt a bit uneasy yet inexplicably confident—
After all, in wars among Primitive People, greater numbers ant an absolute advantage.
...
Lisoben was planning his careful sches, slowing the advance of the Indigenous Warriors.
He thought his strategy was flawless, not realizing that all these actions were exposed clearly through the telescope.
Sunday crouched behind the Vine Shield, coldly watching the naked giant protected in the middle of the indigenous ranks, his eyes burning with the fire of hatred.
His tribe, his parents, his relatives and friends, and the old Priest who cared for him and told him stories, all died directly or indirectly at the hands of this tyrant, said to be a Divine Chosen Warrior.
Saturday said there is an idiom in Chinese called ’deep-seated hatred as great as the sea’.
Upon hearing the explanation of that idiom, Sunday felt that it was the hatred he had been carrying all along.
Countless nights, lying on soft bedding, recalling the days spent in the tribe, he felt regret—
If only the tribe hadn’t been defeated, hadn’t been forced to confront the Great Tribe, hadn’t resisted that tyrant, their fate might have been different. He and his parents might have been able to co to Big Island, living without hunger and sheltered from the rain.
But there are no ifs, the dead will not co back to life, as the Leader told him personally.
As for the so-called Celestial Kingdom, no one could prove its existence.
The Leader said that dying ans you’re dead, you’re gone from this world forever.
For Sunday, who was willing to believe in myths, it was cruel, but from the various knowledge he learned from Saturday, that was the reality.
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