Aztec Eternals

Shulot led the warriors westward for two days, and finally returned to the besieged camp of Ottopan.

At this time, the dark clouds from the east had come quietly, covering the clear sky, and the first drizzle in months was falling. This spring rain dropped precious rain for the spring plowed seeds, but it left a damp shadow in the hearts of the warriors: the rainy season is approaching.

As soon as he returned to the camp, Shulot immediately called for Avit and talked to him about the ambush on the road. Then the two went together to report the military situation to Totek. The cold commander-in-chief looked at the captured bronze spears, bronze arrows, and long wooden bow with a serious expression, and nodded slowly.

"The Otomi may have been funded by the Tarascos and the Tlaxcalans. This is a very important news. Next, the two countries may personally join the war. I will report to the king, it is time to think about it Withdrawal is possible."

Totek then patted Shulot on the shoulder: "Next time you go out, bring more warriors. You are a priest, not a warrior!". After speaking, he turned around seriously and left.

That night, Tisok's angry scolding sounded from the king's big tent.

Seven months have passed since the siege last September, and nearly 4,000 of the 50,000 elite warriors actually died in battle. During this period, there was no glorious war of thousands of people, only continuous guerrilla fighting, acclimatization, food poisoning, disease injuries, and a failed siege.

Of the 60,000 militiamen in the camp and the rear, there were also 6,000 to 7,000 damage, most of which were lost in the transportation of the mountains and the guerrilla of the Otomi people.

During the seven-month war, due to the lack of food, the army did not capture many prisoners, and killed only more than 2,000 Ottopan warriors, of which 1,000 were caught in the city of Guamare. As for the killing of a large number of civilians, it is actually meaningless to glory.

Huge casualties made the city-states resentful, and the tiny victories demoralized the warriors. All of these have greatly reduced the king's popularity, and Tisok's prestige is at a low point. He urgently needed the victory of this siege, using the fall of Ottopan City to prove the king's correct judgment, and use the great cause of conquering the Otomi people to rebuild his prestige.

Seeing that there are only about five months left in Ottopan's grain, the dawn of victory is clearly visible. At this time, no matter what, the king will not give up easily. Moreover, the long wooden bows and copper weapons in the hands of the Otomi do not really prove anything. The king preferred to believe that it was a coincidence that the Otomi bought it from a merchant.

The war made the always rational king a little crazy, and Totek had nothing to do.

The commander-in-chief could only keep a terrified face, and ordered the scouts to go farther, and to monitor the movements of the Tarascos on the south bank at all times. As for the Tlaxcalans, the eastern Mexica city-states still maintain tens of thousands of troops, enough to deal with small-scale wars.

War is never shifted by the will of one party, it is a game between two or more parties. The dominant Mexica army wants a glorious victory, while the weak Otomi nobles are at all costs to avoid the fall of the mountain city and their own death. In this kind of confrontation, the lives of civilians are like falling leaves, which rustle down when the wind blows and easily fall into the soil.

After returning to the camp, Shulot managed to sleep soundly for two days, and he could keep the battles and sacrifices of the previous two days in his heart. That night, the mountain city in the distance suddenly became noisy, shouting and chaotic waves accompanied by the faint crowd, like falling leaves drifting down, heading straight for the camp of the Mexica.

Shulot woke up immediately. He got up, put on a robe, and exchanged a glance with Bertard, who was already holding his weapon. The two immediately put on their armor, hurried to gather the following warriors, and then went to the front camp to garrison.

Standing on the high platform of the front camp, with the help of the bonfire on the edge of the camp, Shulot could see the crowd attacking from a distance, and he felt a little doubt in his heart.

A night raid is a highly organized tactical operation, capable only of the most elite samurai. The Otomi attacking in front of them looked quite numerous from a distance, but they were lighting scattered torches, and their actions were inconsistent. From time to time, torches spread out in other directions, and some even turned back up the mountain. The sound waves resounded all over the sky, and there were faint cries and cries floating in the wind, and the screams of women were mixed with the cries.

It wasn't until the crowd approached that Shulot realized something, and then a cloud of anger surged into his heart.

Except for the dozens of Otomi civilian warriors leading the way, behind them were old and weak women and children in scanty clothes. Some of them are old, some are young, some are hopeful, some are desperate, some are hesitant, and some are crazy. With only a stick in their hands, they were driven forward by the noble warriors at the rear.

Xiulot saw a rickety old woman, with her head bowed and bent, unable to see her face clearly, she just wobbled forward leaning on a wooden stick. The crowd from behind kept coming, and when someone crowded suddenly, she immediately fell to the ground, with wooden sticks scattered beside her. The feet of the crowd stepped on it, and the skinny body never got up again.

These weak civilians just held a wooden stick, and frantically rushed towards the cracks in the camp, desperately rushing towards the forest behind the camp, where there was a way out of their imagination. However, the Mexica warriors have long been ready. Holding their shields and raising their sticks, the warriors pulled out a tight and curved front to hold the camp and its surroundings tightly.

So, Shulot saw countless "moths" rushing towards the fire. Dozens of civilian warriors at the front uttered desperate howls, desperately rushing towards the fortified battle formation. They hit the shield, and were hit by the obsidian baton that came first. Then the leather armor was split, the bones were broken, and they fell twisted and twisted.

Then there are countless Otomi civilians. They feebly hit the shield, leather armor, or another civilian blocking the way with their sticks. Everyone rushed towards the reef in front of them like waves, and then the waves scattered, leaving the reef unscathed, leaving only their thin and weak bodies falling to the ground.

The samurai swung their weapons cruelly, and the battle clubs broke necks and broken spines. The sharp obsidian edge was like a sharp knife, cutting and tearing the unarmored limbs, and the blood splashed with it, staining the dirt in front of the camp.

Shulot saw a young militiaman holding a simple wooden shield in the crowd, trying to protect the women and children behind him. But the crowd soon came to an end and hit the fortified "reef". "Reef" raised his baton, and powerfully swung it down from the side, bypassing the simple wooden shield, and hitting heavily on the back.

The young militiaman immediately straightened his body, raised his head and jerked it up like a broken wooden stick. After looking back for the last time, he fell silently. Shulot looked back again, and the child had disappeared under the crowd, while the woman screamed frantically, and threw herself at her husband's body, and then a battle stick fell head-on.

Shulot lowered his eyes, expressionless, and did not continue to watch the "moth" burn. Totek, who was also standing on the high platform, frowned. He had already judged the essence of this "night attack".

Immediately, Totek ordered two thousand warriors to put down their batons and replace them with sharp obsidian spears. Then the two thousand warriors moved forward ferociously, mercilessly stabbing the Otomi civilians who were rushing forward. The spear tip was inserted into the soft chest, and the civilians fell down in a neat row like thatch, and then the crowd behind squeezed in another row, and so on. To deal with these living creatures that have neither armor nor attack power, short spears have higher killing efficiency and save labor than war sticks.

The battle stick warriors in front came back to rest, wiped off the leather armor covered in blood and pieces of flesh, and replaced the worn out battle stick sharps.

There was a steady stream of civilians fighting the fire, and they "burned" for three or four hours. The fresh life turned into broken arms and limbs all over the ground, and the ground was covered with red. It wasn't until the first ray of dawn came up that seeing that the civilians were almost exhausted, the noble warriors who drove from the top of the mountain to the mountainside nodded to each other and retreated to the castle on the mountain.

The war drove the Otomi nobles crazy too. They discarded all the "burdens" just to last longer.

Soon, the morning sun lit up the red sky, the morning light reflected the blood-colored earth, the castle on the top of the mountain shone with brilliance, and the camp below the mountain was filled with killing intent. The warriors on both sides looked at each other across the mountain, and nothing seemed to have changed, except for the dazzling bright red in the middle.

It was already dawn, and the warriors of Mexica poured out of the camp, forming torrents and encircling the entire mountain city. The scouts quickly captured many civilians who had struggled to escape in the steep north of the mountain city. They were also driven, jumping off the undulating cliffs in the dark night, turning into corpses and surviving wounded all over the ground. However, very few people can really escape.

The scouts counted the dead and wounded all over the mountain, and roughly estimated 20,000, of which only a small part were civilian warriors who voluntarily died and militiamen protecting their families. According to intelligence, Ottopan City originally had more than 10,000 warriors, 30,000 militiamen, and more than 30,000 civilians, about 80,000 people. But now, there are only less than 60,000 people left in the city, and most of them are soldiers and men.

In other words, Ottopan City can stick to it for "only" two more months. The premise is that such a "night attack" does not happen again.

In the big tent, Shulot lowered his head slightly, and had a clearer understanding of the cruelty of the Ottopan nobles.

King Tisok smashed the obsidian staff in his hand angrily, and then roared to order the warriors to behead all the captives and build them under the city of Ottopan. This was the first time Shulot saw the king lose his composure.

The surrounding generals looked serious and kept silent, exchanging glances and expressions with each other, and occasionally some people nodded slightly.

There is no doubt that this "night attack" has dealt a heavy blow to the morale of the armies on both sides. The nobles of Otomi still firmly controlled the city of Ottopan relying on the warriors in their hands, but the king of Mexica could no longer effectively control the camp of the city-state army. The voice of withdrawing troops began to spread in the dark.

Walking out of the tent, Xiulot looked at the distant sky. Continuous clouds floated from the sky again, the dark curtain slowly approached, and it seemed to be another light rain. Then, he looked towards the distance of the camp. Under the command of the warriors, the militiamen were cleaning up the corpses on the ground, building up the heads into Jingguan, and throwing the rest into the huge pit.

The drizzle can wash away the bright red of the earth, but can it calm the madness of people?

Shulot smiled self-deprecatingly and shook his head.

"War makes people crazy, I have to be careful," he said to himself.