Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!

Then, he took the Copper Feathered Arrows offered by Jiowar and leaned in to examine the cylindrical wooden shaft. He tested the hardness of the shaft with his fingernail once more, furrowing his brows deeply, noting that making such shafts required more labor. The copper heads, sturdy shafts, and costly feathers were costs the Otomi could not afford.

Finally, he looked at the slope-shaped bone ring on Ters's hand and let out a long sigh.

"Mexica people, you are indeed mighty and the wealthiest. Being able to equip such sturdy longbows and expend such costly feathered arrows in large quantities, your craftsmen must indeed number in the thousands!"

After a moment of contemplation, Olte's tone shifted as he stared intently at Xiulote's face.

"However, Your Highness Xiulote, even with these weapons, the idea of threatening Ototpan Mountain City remains but a fantasy! You cannot afford the loss of samurai in a siege. Unless you have other preparations?..."

Xiulote responded with a confident, calm smile. He remained serene, not answering directly, but instead spoke.

"Priest Olte, the Alliance only needs you to march southward, to plunder the lands of the Tarasco! We will aid your river crossing and cover your retreat. We need not the spoils of plunder, all the wealth will belong to you. Similarly, this time, you need not attack the fortress-dense Akanbaro State. Otomi Warriors may freely choose to head westwards, plundering across from Guamare State to Saka State, or even the affluent Chapala Lake Region!"

At this, Xiulote paused slightly. He looked solemnly at the old priest.

"Priest Olte, you were born in Guamare State, you know the surroundings far better than I. There are familiar Otomi Tribes there; I believe you can find suitable targets!"

Olte pondered for a moment, then inquired about the most crucial point.

"Your Highness Xiulote, you ask us to join the war against the Tarasco, but allow us to operate independently and choose our own targets?"

Xiulote nodded and frankly replied.

"Exactly so. Priest Olte, we need more deeds to establish mutual trust, and it is not suitable to form Allied Forces directly. However, I will dispatch small squads of samurai to follow your troops and provide regular updates. You must truly engage Tarasco in combat, otherwise... the Alliance will not tolerate another breach of contract!"

Listening to these words, the old priest Olte fell into a deep silence. Jiowar first glared menacingly at the Mexica people. Then, anxiously ruffling his hair, he awaited the old priest's wise final decision.

The fire in the large tent crackled, the wind outside the tent howled mournfully, the silent tent was filled with struggling hearts. After a long while, Olte struggled to turn his gaze to the Mexica's Commander-in-Chief, the familiar young His Highness.

"Your Highness Xiulote, we signed the last pact. You provided Ototpan City with food for five months as promised, helping us through the toughest times. I do not believe in the Mexica Alliance, but I believe in you, and I am willing to make an oath only with you!"

The old priest's eyes flashed with an unusual brilliance. Staring at the throne, he finally roared loudly, profoundly moving the gathering.

"The divine pact has ended! To make us join the war against the Tarasco, you must invoke the name of our revered ancestors! Cut your hair, slice your palm, and in the presence of all commanders, sign a lifetime Blood Oath with the Otomi, engraving all promises on indestructible stone tablets!"

Xiulote remained silent for a long while, finally nodding slowly with a complex expression.

"Priest Olte, thank you for your trust. Who will make this oath with me, is it you?"

The old priest Olte shook his head firmly. He turned and pointed his finger at the shocked and pale Jiowar.

"No! My life is nearing its end. The one who will make the lifetime Blood Oath with you will be him!"