Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!-Chapter 620 - Three Hundred and Sixteen: Field Mouse

The sky was clear, the wind gentle, and the afternoon sun was scorchingly hot, drying the dust-covered wilderness. Armies in dark green, bearing the flag of the Black Wolf, hastened along the undulating mountains, rushing toward the mouth of the valley to the northwest, forty miles away. Columns of dust from their march rose to the sky, still visibly distinct even from tens of miles away. Scouts of the Guajili Canine Descendants saw all this from atop the mountains and relayed the urgent news into the valley, further stirring panic in Red Fox Valley.

At the mouth of the northwest valley, Ivican’s eyes were bloodshot, and his War Club dripped with blood as he stood atop the encampment at the valley’s entrance. A thousand Red Fox warriors, bows and spears in hand, were deployed both inside and outside the mouth of the valley. They had taken complete control over the situation, securing the passage at the valley’s mouth. Nearby Canine Descendants Tribes were ruthlessly scattered, then gathered in the corners of the valley’s entrance, fearfully awaiting a route to escape.

The valley pathway to the northwest was relatively broad, allowing passage for thousands. Among the pathway lay hundreds of fallen bodies, all dressed in poor Tribal attire. Thousands of Red Fox’s able-bodied men were burdened with food, forming disorganized long lines and trampling over fresh corpses and vivid blood, desperately fleeing northwards. Not far away, two hundred Chieftain’s trusted aides, clad in the Otomi’s grey-blue Cotton Armor, were escorting the heritage flag of the Red Fox, rapidly approaching the valley’s mouth.

Otuwa stormed through the center of the troops. Although over forty years old, he moved swiftly. The Red Fox Chieftain wore the Aztecs’ dark green Cotton Armor, standing out in the midst of the grey-blue crowd. Scouts hurried back and forth from the valley’s mountains, constantly reporting the latest military intelligence to him.

"Chieftain, a division from the Cactus Tribe is moving swiftly toward the valley mouth! Their size is about that of two ordinary Tribes, and they are thirty miles away!"

Scouts hurried to deliver their reports, then dashed off, resembling short-beaked crows fluttering back and forth, all bringing unfortunate tidings.

The Red Fox Chieftain narrowed his eyes. He surveyed the migrating column and glanced at the sun overhead, cursing under his breath.

"Damn it! Like coyotes scenting blood, they come so swiftly!... Thirty miles, a forced march, just past midday... The Tribe has only evacuated half of its people; we must find a way to hold out until nightfall!"

Without stopping, Otuwa soon arrived at the encampment at the valley mouth. Ivican bowed his head in greeting.

"Chieftain, I have dispersed the common Tribes at the valley mouth and killed several hundred Tribe members who were in the way. Aaogh! The Red Crow Tribe has not fled far; they have only reached about thirty to forty miles to the northeast..."

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"Ivican, well done. Don’t worry about the Red Crow Tribe anymore! The Tribe will head directly northwest!"

Otuwa waved his hand. He stood on the high ground of the encampment, not looking at the chaotic situation in the valley or listening to the loud cries nearby. The Red Fox Chieftain looked at the dust in the south, then at the common Tribes gathered near the valley mouth and spoke in a deep voice.

"How many ordinary Tribes have gathered at the valley mouth? How many people? How many warriors?"

"Ah?"

Ivican tugged at his hair, thinking hard.

"Chieftain, there were originally five small Tribes at this valley mouth. I annihilated one when I arrived, leaving over three thousand people from the remaining four Tribes. Many of their warriors have been conscripted by the three Great Tribes; I estimate only a little over four hundred remain... They’re just a bunch of weak field mice, not even daring to squeak in the face of Red Fox warriors!"

"Three thousand people, four hundred warriors..."

Otuwa nodded and remained silent. He squinted for a quarter hour, estimating the march speed of the Cactus Samurai, his hand silently tightening.

"Ivican, the Cactus Tribe is arriving too quickly! By the time they get here, we will have barely moved a dozen miles; we absolutely cannot hold out until dark."

"Aaogh? Chieftain, then what should we do?"

"...Ivican, my brave warrior. Your Archery is exceptional, and you fight with courage and skill. I have always held you in high esteem!"

"Aaogh, Chieftain, I am ready to fight to the death for you!"

Hearing the Chieftain’s praise, Ivican struck his chest vigorously.

"My brave warrior, facing the pursuit of coyotes, field mice cannot simply burrow and run blindly... I have a task for you!"

"Howl?"

"Take your thousand warriors with you! Once the tribe’s main forces leave the mouth of the valley, drive out the three thousand assembled tribespeople and charge at the Cactus Tribe’s legion!"

"Ah?"

Ivican’s face changed, trembling all over.

"Chieftain, these three thousand tribespeople are no match at all! A thousand tribal warriors against two to three thousand Cactus samurai... they’ll definitely be defeated!"

Otuwa’s face was stern, his gaze harsh as he looked towards the redhead captain.

"Fool! Ivican, I didn’t ask you to fight the Cactus samurai to the death! First, use the tribespeople to break through their ranks and disrupt the march of the Cactus legion. Even three thousand grass mice would keep a pack of wolves busy for half a day! Once the tribespeople have dispersed, harass them a few times, and retreat at nightfall!"

"There are still twenty thousand from the tribes, two great tribes in the valley. As long as we retreat in time, the Cactus samurai won’t cling to us! Remember, you can outrun anyone!"

Ivican pursed his lips, thought for a moment, then bit down hard on his teeth.

"Fine! Chieftain, I’ll go!"

"Good! When you return, I’ll betroth my daughter to you! No matter how many warriors fall, I will replenish your ranks. Ivican, the survival of our tribe depends on you!"

"Howl! Chieftain father, I’ll fight to the death for you!"

Ivican’s eyes reddened once more. He knelt down, kowtowed to Otuwa, then stood up and left.

A thousand Red Fox warriors immediately sprang into action. Fully armed, they surrounded the common tribes in the corner of the valley and announced the order for conscription. A tribal chieftain had just begun to refuse when Ivican shot him dead with an arrow, and the dozen or so rebellious trusted aides were also killed. Before long, the Red Fox warriors had three thousand tribespeople under control, forcing them to drop their luggage and take up rudimentary stone spears and stone hammers, preparing for a desperate battle.

As the western sky tilted, six thousand strapping Red Fox tribesmen finally left the valley. Barefoot and carrying food on their backs, they faced the setting sun and fled deep into the wilderness to the northwest. Behind them followed two thousand escorts from the Red Fox warriors. Many of these warriors from common tribes had been forcibly conscripted and were now leaving the valley with the Red Fox Tribe, never to return to their own tribes, their hearts filled with complex emotions.

Otuwa stood at a high point with the chieftain’s trusted aides, looking south. Cactus samurai charged all the way, now just ten miles away. The dust from the south was almost upon them, nearly blending into the commotion of the valley.

The Red Fox chieftain then gazed east toward the valley. Continuous war drums sounded from the southeast entrance of the valley, and the distant sounds of battle carried in the wind, indicating fierce fighting. Along the narrow valley, countless Canine Descendant Tribes were in disarray, fighting each other for food, trampling one another. Across the valley, various belongings had been discarded; among the objects lay clusters of bloodstains.

However, the escape route was blocked by the warriors of the Great Tribe, leaving the various common tribes to flee through the small paths in the northern mountains. With the mountain paths narrow, the tribes stumbled into each other, and it took half a day just to escape with a thousand people.

"Ha, foolish grass mice..."

Otuwa shook his head. He had not sealed the northern exit, leaving only a narrow path for escape to avoid a direct assault on the mouth of the valley.

"Farewell, Red Cat and Red Frog chieftains! May the ancestors bless us, until we meet again in the wilderness!"

The Red Fox chieftain revealed a mocking smile, then without further delay, turned and left. Behind him, Ivican led a thousand tribal warriors, driving three thousand numb tribespeople towards the Cactus legion several miles away.

The highland was vast, the sun slowly set, another round of purple twilight. Three thousand tribespeople ran under the twilight, like a desperate horde of mice, charging towards the two thousand-strong formation of the Imperial Guard Legion.

Bertade frowned slightly, shaking his head. The intense shouts of battle suddenly erupted just outside the northwest mouth of the valley, accompanied by a lopsided massacre. A great burst of fresh blood spilled on the ground, turning purple-red in the twilight, as if the Netherworld had descended upon the earth.