diymy Chapter 66 - 53: Marching
Chapter 66 - 53: Marching
Dark clouds cloaked the sky and earth, casting a vague gloom over the fields. The fleet, mighty and vast, moved eastward, rowing against the current.
Xiulote sat cross-legged at the bow, clutching a long Obsidian dagger in his arms, which relaxed him. He watched the mighty river, observed the undulating mountains, gazed at the lush forests, and beheld birds flying low. Raindrops fell, pitter-pattering, dampening his long hair. The mist blurred his vision, making the world seem distant.
He had once been a passerby across millennia, silently wandering alone in the primitive past. Like a lost goose, circling in a strange sky, merely watching the years pass by, overlooking the majestic landscapes, feeling a distant detachment in his heart. Such was the loneliness of a transmigrator.
Sometime, perhaps when the goose grew tired, it finally alighted gently at the bow. The young man was no longer free and unattached; his heart now harbored emotions, concerns. He gained ancestors, teachers, friends, followers, and even a future wife. Only with a real home did he find his true existence.
The homeland was gone; where the goose landed, there was his home. The young man had people to love, a world to protect. With a world to protect came enemies to vanquish, whether they were brave samurais, distinguished kings, or fair-skinned colonizers.
A year of life and death transformations, a year of battles and strife. The once gentle and kind young traveler had morphed into a resolute and determined young samurai. The samurai’s strength stemmed from his disdain for death and his love for life, for the people he cared about.
On this drifting journey at the bow, Xiulote clung tightly to the long dagger in his arms. He was utterly certain, "I have assimilated into this world."
He continued to survey the vast fleet surrounding him, thousands of boats racing toward the end of the highlands, like a hunting pack of wolves. The samurais silently harbored killing intent; archers cleaned their life-taking weapons. Aweit and Acap spoke in low voices, waiting for the hunt to begin!
The hunt targeted a king who could threaten everyone’s lives, and who could also protect his own power. How should power be used? Xiulote already had a clear answer.
Six days had passed since the fleet sailed east. These six days involved marching daily from dawn till dusk, with militia and samurais taking turns rowing. The army finally entered the western border of the Mexica Alliance, Tepanecapan.
Here, the highlands stretched upwards, and just ahead were continuous mountain ranges. This was the most challenging part of rowing upstream; beyond the river’s high point lay the fertile, thriving Mexican Valley.
The army disembarked here, turning northeast towards the Xilotepec encampment. The fleet then headed back west to pick up ten thousand militia left in Otomi territory.
Aweit dispatched swift scouts who dashed towards distant villages,
The final eight thousand loyal Samurai were en route to support the main camp at Xilotepec, accompanied by sixteen thousand militia. This included two thousand of Aweit’s clan warriors. This troop was key to the changing situation, close at hand, ready for the taking.
After final discussions, everyone understood clearly. The commander slammed his fist onto the roughly drawn wooden map, pointing northeast.
"We set off first thing tomorrow morning, increasing our marching speed. We must capture this troop by dusk!"