The door of the dilapidated hut was wide open, and everyone in the captured fleet looked panic-stricken. The fierce canine warriors carried axes and spears and strode in with murderous intent. The tattooed leader at the head had a ruthless look on his face, and raised the corners of his mouth ferociously.
.
"Blind God! This is this? This is!..."
Chihuaco, an old militiaman, was frightened and looked at the canine descendants who rushed in. Although he could not understand the conversation outside the room, he could feel full of malice and a strong ominous atmosphere when he saw the murderous posture.
He gritted his teeth hard, dug his nails into his flesh, stood at the front of the fleet, and spoke carefully in Mexican.
"Dear leader of the wasteland... we are friends from the kingdom in the lake..."
"Kneel down, everyone!"
The young tattooed leader roared, and the incoming canine warriors swung their spears and knocked everyone in the room to the ground. The crew's cries of pain and the howling of the canine echoed in the hut instantly. And looking at
Seeing this chaotic scene, the tattooed leader laughed heartily. He laughed for a while, showed a ruthless expression again, and asked sharply in Guakili.
"Who is the leader among you?"
"Friends! Friends! We are friends!..."
Chihuaco, an old militiaman, stood at the front of the crowd and was forced to the ground by two dog-born men. He struggled and shouted at the same time.
"Lord God! This is a misunderstanding! We are friends from afar! We have no ill intentions!..."
"Ha! Friends? What kind of friends do you Mexicans have?"
Hearing this, the young tattooed leader showed hatred and sneered. He could understand Mexica, but he only answered in proficient Guaquili.
"You are the enemy! I came here for hundreds of miles just to send the enemy to death! ...Haha! I want to repay you the pain of losing everything!"
"Lord God! This must be a misunderstanding!... This is our first time here..."
"Haha! Leader of the Mexica people, you have been abandoned by your main god, stop struggling!"
The young tattooed leader strode forward and squatted in front of the old militiaman. He grabbed the other man's hair, looked at the old man's unkempt, sunburned face, and laughed ferociously.
"Haha! As the leader, you are lucky! You will stay until the end so you can watch carefully! Watch me kill all of you one by one and twist off your heads one by one..."
"No! No! Friend! We can discuss it, discuss it carefully..."
Chihuaco, an old militiaman, looked anxious. He didn't know what went wrong, and how suddenly everyone ended up like this. But at this critical moment, he bowed down again, showing the courtesy of a villager.
figure.
"Master! Mighty warrior master! We can give you everything on the boat!... We are just fish in the lake, very small and no threat... Please! Let us go!"
"Ha! Fish? I love fish the most!...Haha! Huh?"
As he was talking, the young tattooed leader suddenly paused. Inexplicably, he felt that these words were so familiar.
"Huh? This voice, these words...I seem to have heard them somewhere..."
Thinking of this, he narrowed his eyes and stared at the gray old face of the old militiaman carefully with dangerous eyes.
"Keep your head up!"
"Dear samurai master! Spare us!"
The old militiamen stammered, and after many years, they regained their survival instincts. That was the only way for the villagers to survive in the Kingdom of Tarasco.
"Master! We can farm the land for you! Yes, I am a good farmer, and we are all..."
"..."
Seeing this inexplicably familiar cowering expression, the young tattooed leader froze on the spot and remained silent. He was stunned for a long time, as if he had encountered something that was completely unbelievable.
"Impossible...how is it possible?...This is absolutely impossible!"
"Dear samurai master..."
The old militiaman looked cowered and humbled. He was still struggling hard, trying to hold on to the last hope.
"Please, please spare our lives..."
The young tattooed leader was silent for a while, then suddenly asked quickly in Prepecha language.
"Are you... from Tarasco? Not from Mexico?"
"Uh? Tarasco?"
Hearing this familiar accent, Chihuaco, an old militiaman, was also startled. But he reacted quickly and immediately answered carefully.
"We... are all Prepecha people from the Kingdom of the Lake, serving His Majesty from the Mexica Alliance... This is our first time here, and we have never offended your tribe!..."
"Prepecha people..."
Hearing this, the young tattooed leader shook his head, as if it brought back long-lasting memories. However, he was not very old, and he did not know when these long-lasting memories were. After a while, he
He asked softly in Prepecha with a trembling voice.
"You...your hometown...is a small village on the west side of Lake Patzcuaro. There are two rag trees and a red cicada flower at the entrance of the village?"
"…Ah You!…"
Hearing this, the old militiaman suddenly raised his head and looked at each other blankly. He carefully looked at the tattooed leader in front of him, at the red tattooed face covering his face, at the thick and powerful body, and at the dyed-faced leader.
He had straight red hair. The young tattooed leader also opened his eyes wide and looked at his old face, which was full of wrinkles and sunburned due to the rough weather.
"Who are you…"
The old militiaman hesitated for a while, then looked at the other party's excited eyes and asked uncertainly.
"You...are also from Prepecha? Have you been to Lake Patzcuaro and to my hometown?"
Hearing this, the young tattooed leader was shaken all over. He stretched out his hand tremblingly, wiped off the dust on the old militiaman's face, and stared at the other man's face. Then, his fingers trembled, with some anticipation and some fear.
asked.
"You...you have a son and a daughter. The son was taken away and went to the front line where the Mexicans were fighting..."
"Ah! You! How do you know who you are?"
The old militiaman trembled all over, like a fish being electrified, and suddenly straightened his spine. He grabbed the arm of the tattooed leader and asked loudly and excitedly.
"Is it possible? Is it possible!"
"...Uh-huh!"
The young tattooed leader suppressed the excitement in his heart and nodded vigorously.
"Did...have you seen my son?! He...is he still alive?!"
"..."
The young tattooed leader was silent for a moment, then stretched out his hand and wiped his face vigorously. However, the terrifying tattoos on his face, which symbolized the courage of the wasteland warrior to abandon everything when he became an adult, had long been inconsistent with his appearance.
Fusion can no longer be separated.
"He...he...me!...you..."
"Ah? Me?...you?...you?!"
The two looked at each other tremblingly, neither of them able to say a complete sentence, but they could somehow understand each other's thoughts. There was silence in the hut, only the two people's trembling eyes were left, and they seemed to be lit with flames.
"ah!"
The tattooed canine leader trembled for a moment, unable to bear the surging emotions in his heart any longer. He rushed forward and knelt heavily on the ground. Then, with tears in his eyes, he hugged the old militiaman's face tightly,
