Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!

The slanting sunlight fell silently among the people through the gaps in the thatched hut. There, the leaders of the two groups, were a father and son who had just recognized each other and embraced in tears.

The Canine Warriors looked stupefied, watching the young leader with snot and tears, crying out loud. Even the originally Canine team leader in the village ran over to watch this rare scene of recognition.

The crew of the fleet sat limply on the ground, happy for the old captain and also happy for themselves. Priest Mekate smiled quietly, thinking for a moment, then his smile became even more radiant. In the corner, Dark Snake and Didi watched the scene before them, with faces full of excitement and joy, yet mixed with indescribable melancholy and sorrow.

"Dad! Seven years! I've worked myself to death, yet never thought I'd see you again!"

The tattooed Chipawa was crying and laughing, shouting excitedly.

"You didn't die! You didn't die! Ah! Do you know? I erected a grave for you, dug on the mountain by Warrior Lake. I also dug a grave for mom and sister... All these years, I've been thinking day and night, dreaming of avenging you all!"

"...I...I didn't think so either!...I always thought, you were dead...eaten by the wild dogs on the battlefield, couldn't even find the body!..."

The old militiaman was in tears, speaking incoherently, even more overwhelmed than Chipawa. He was dizzy, like drunk, as if floating in the sky. At this moment, he tightly embraced Chipawa's face, pressing his forehead against his son's, afraid that if he let go, the other would turn into smoke and suddenly disappear.

"Warm! Alive!...You're still alive! Alive!...Alive, that's great!"

"Ah! We are all still alive! Howl!"

At this point, Chipawa shouted loudly, making a canine-like howl. Then, with a wave of his big hand, he shouted to his warriors.

"Why are you still dazing? Prepare wine and meat for me! I've found my dad! Slaughter all the village's turkeys, tonight we'll drink and eat meat, all toast to my dad!"

"Yes! Boss!"

A few Canine Warriors hesitated for a moment, then responded loudly. Soon, the small village by the river became busy, with shouts of chicken slaughtering and cooking everywhere. The Elder from the village looked bitterly as over a hundred ferocious Canine Warriors rampaged through the village. He saw the dizzy eyes of the old militiaman, wanted to say something but was intimidated by Chipawa's fierce gaze, and bowed his head reluctantly.

By dusk, bonfires were lit by the river. The old militiaman was still dizzy, as were the crew of the fleet. The Canine Warriors gobbled down meat, drank wine in large bowls, celebrating for once. Afterward, they came forward one by one to toast, singing and dancing, almost getting the old militiaman drunk.

"Great! So good!...All so good!"

The wine in the village was not much, after a few rounds, it was all drunk. The bonfire illuminated everyone's red faces, listening to the songs and laughter. During the day, they were at each other's throats wishing they could chop each other into pieces. By night, they became a true family, singing and dancing together. The unpredictable changes of fate are truly dizzying, bewildering.

"All go! Have fun yourselves! I want to talk to dad!"

After eating and drinking, the tattooed Chipawa waved his arms again, chasing away the seated Canine Warriors. Priest Mekate also wisely took the fleet's crew back to the hut. Only then did father and son truly have a chance to be alone for a while.

Old militiaman Chiwaco squatted by the river, washing his face vigorously with cold river water. The tattooed Chipawa also squatted by his side, washing for a while, just like he did in childhood. Then, father and son sat by the bonfire, facing each other, yet not knowing what to say for a moment.

"Chipawa...you...how did you become, this canine-like appearance?"

After a moment, old militiaman Chiwaco extended his hand to touch the terrifying tattoos on his son's face, asking softly.

"Is this...carved with a Stone Knife? Can't be washed off?"

"Yes! Carved with stone! Can't be washed off!"

Hearing his father's question, Chipawa puffed his chest, proudly pointing to his face, as if pointing to great glory.

"This was three years ago, when I was twenty years old...Sister Alan personally carved it for me! The Zuma High Priest of the tribe said, this is a Wilderness tattoo, a totem of divinity! It can grant me the courage of the Wilderness Warriors, bestow the protection of my Ancestors!...It was only after having it that I became a truly fearless Warrior step by step!"

"Ah?...The warrior totem of...the Wilderness?"

Hearing this, old militiaman Chiwaco opened his mouth, wanting to say something. But when he saw his son's proud and confident expression, he stayed silent for a moment, only murmuring.

"Three years ago...you were twenty...you...you've already turned twenty-three! In my impression, you were only fifteen or sixteen, still that not tall, skinny, timid boy..."

"Dad! I'm a warrior! A real man! I'm not the boy of the past! I was captured by the Samurai, left the village, went to the battlefield, it's been seven years already!"

Hearing the old militiaman's words, Chipawa raised his eyebrows, interrupting. He enlisted at sixteen...He has experienced so many changes, wandering all the way to the Wilderness, in the blink of an eye it's been seven years.

"Seven years! I've killed dozens of warriors! I've also slept with dozens of women, more than you ever did! I dare to charge at ten people alone! I will never be timid like before again!"

"Ah?...But, I remember, in the Lake Region...you..."

"Dad! Here is the Wilderness! A Wilderness of killing, eating, and sleeping with women! It's full of ferocious Wilderness tribes, I can only be harsher and fiercer than them, to make them fear me, listen to me!"

The tattooed Chipawa gritted his teeth, shouting like a wolf. Then his expression eased slightly, his voice became low.

"Moreover...Sister Alan, is so strong and brave, never timid!…How can I lag behind her so much?"

"Ah!...Little turtle grew up, actually incubated into a crocodile..."

Upon hearing this, old militiaman Chiwaco pursed his lips, looked at his familiar yet unfamiliar son, sighed lightly. Yes! Seven years! In this unprecedented era stirred by Mexica's conquest, filled with so much blood, fire, change, and death. Many high and mighty Divine Descendants, Priests, and Nobility fell to dust, becoming rotting corpses...

And having experienced so much, as long as one doesn't die, one can grow rapidly. He is like this, his son, why wouldn't he be the same? This is an era of heroes and legends, truly like a myth...

Old militiaman was silent, tightly grasping his son's arm. His heart was filled with genuine joy, yet lightly touched by sadness. Because, he knows, his son has found his own path, different from his, unable to walk together.

The evening breeze blew hard, bringing the breath of the sea, making one's spirits relaxed. The tattooed Chipawa slightly calmed, then raised his head again to look at his father. He vigorously rubbed his face, the tattoo that brought him courage, then cautiously, softly asked.

"Dad!...My mom and sister...are they still...alive?"