Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!

Next, Olte beckoned, and Jiowar approached solemnly. Bertade also moved to the center, closely guarding His Highness. The priests accompanying the army mixed a large cup of ice-cold cocoa and presented it before the Sacred Fire.

Xiulote looked across at Jiowar and nodded to his old friend. Then, he pulled out the Obsidian Dagger, cut off a lock of his hair, and cast it into the Sacred Fire. Jiowar did the same, and a faint burnt smell instantly dispersed.

Then, the Young Commander unfurled his left hand. Without hesitation, he sliced the palm with the sharp Dagger. The sting came instantly, and blood dripped down, staining the cocoa below red. He then handed the sacrificial Dagger to Jiowar, while the Head Warrior at his side remained on alert.

Jiowar took the Dagger and cut deeply into the side of his palm. More blood flowed, falling continuously into the cocoa. The sacred cocoa turned a vivid red as both their bloods mingled together.

Afterward, Xiulote picked up the clay cup from the ground and drank deeply from half of the blood-red beverage. A metallic taste similar to mushrooms lingered in his mouth, accompanied by the inherent bitterness of cocoa.

"Under the watch of the Chief Divine! I, Xiulote of Teotihuacan, descendant of my predecessor monarch Acamapichtli, do swear by the spirit of my ancestors, to establish a blood oath alliance with Jiowar of Otapan!

I will regard Jiowar as a younger brother, a loyal vassal to me. For the entirety of my life, I will grant him protection. Protect his life, protect the city-state of Otapan, protect the citizens of the Otomi! The oath stands as it is made. Should I break this vow, may humans and gods alike forsake me!"

Xiulote recited loudly, the solemn ceremony evoking a special sentiment. In the distant divine smoke, he felt somewhat transfixed, as if he really could sense the touch of his ancestors and the gaze of the gods.

Jiowar was extraordinarily solemn. He took the clay cup, drained the other half of the blood-red liquid in one gulp. Then, he pressed his bleeding palm to his chest, staring at the Sacred Fire with his narrow eyes, and shouted loudly.

"Under the watch of the Primordial God! I, Jiowar of Otapan City, descendant of my predecessor monarch Otapan, do swear by the spirit of my ancestors, to establish a blood oath alliance with Xiulote of Teotihuacan!

I will regard Xiulote as an elder brother, a noble liege to me. For all my life, I will pledge my loyalty. Guard his life, provide the armies and tribute of Otapan, ensure that the people of the Otomi become his obedient citizens! The oath stands as it is made. If I violate this oath, may I suffer Divine Punishment, my blood be drained, my limbs be severed! May my ancestors witness my oath, I engrave the covenant on my face!"

As he said this, Jiowar's gaze was sharp, watching the scars on Bertade's cheeks. He lifted the blade, pressed it to his own face, and, unfazed, cut similar marks. Then, he stood there calmly, with a hint of defiance, looking at the young liege before him.

Xiulote nodded calmly. He removed the Sun Amulet from around his neck and pointed his bloodied finger toward the ground. Blood fell, dust rose, and a red stain spread across the earth.

Jiowar paused for a moment. He understood the significance and immediately hesitated, turning to look at the old Priest Olte.

The old priest's pupils shrank as he spoke softly.

"Your Highness, for thousands of years, the Primordial God has blessed the Otomi people. It is our heartfelt belief."

Xiulote shook his head solemnly and declared resolutely.

"Olte, the Chief Divine is supreme above all! The Primordial God can step down to be a Saint. If the Otomi people are to truly integrate into the Alliance, they must ultimately reverence the War God as the highest. Of course, this is not urgent, and Jiowar need not convert publicly. But at this moment, he must accept the amulet of the Chief Divine, and secretly convert here!"

Olte looked at His Highness, feeling the adamant determination. After a long silence, he nodded solemnly.

Jiowar was stunned for a long while, feeling as if weighed down by a great burden on his knees. Xiulote did not hasten him but waited calmly. The face of the Otapan General was wrought with protracted struggle, emotions shifting endlessly, unable to settle. Eventually, the old Priest sighed softly and gently patted his shoulder.

"My child, I have watched you grow since you were little. Your father died in the ongoing slaughter of war, your son in the disease that followed the siege's famine. Generation after generation of Otomi have perished in war and famine. We have struggled to maintain the heritage of our clan in the north, battling wave upon wave of invaders. For the continuity of our tribe, everything can be sacrificed. Even our precious beliefs are a measurable cost... how could they be an exception?"

Hearing this, Jiowar was shocked as he looked at the usually devout old Priest. A turmoil of emotions churned in his chest. His whole being was inflamed, wanting to cry out, but in the end, he suddenly lost strength and knelt before Xiulote.

Xiulote once again looked deeply at the old Priest. Then, the young Priest nodded gravely, placing the silver amulet around Jiowar's neck and then taking hold of his hair.

"Jiowar, in the presence of the Chief Divine, you will swear an oath to Him, obtaining the sacred duty to illuminate the glory of the Chief Divine! Come, chant His divine name with me, Huitzilopochtli..."

"Huitzilopochtli..."

Jiowar's face showed no luster. In the presence of the new deity, he had lost his steadfast faith and also the defiant pride in his heart, like a coyote being tamed.

Xiulote watched Jiowar's expression and nodded in satisfaction.

"Jiowar, let go of everything in the past, I promise you a future!"

The weathered Priest turned away, not looking at the scene until the end of the conversion ritual.

The sky gradually darkened, and the oath ceremony neared its end. Once again, the old and young priests stood facing each other, gazing into each other's faces.

"Olte, why did you choose me?" Xiulote looked at the old Priest before him, who seemed to have aged even more.

"Your Highness, I have observed you for a long time, gathered much information. I have witnessed your rapid growth and seen a boundless future." Olte replied calmly.

Xiulote was silent for a moment before asking again.

"Why choose me?"

"As the situation in the world changes, everything will transform. Out of necessity, you will be the hope for the continuity of the Otomi people." After pondering for a moment, Olte gave the answer in his heart.

"Why?" the young man asked.

This time, Olte thought for a long time. Only after a while did he slowly respond.

"Because... you are not a ruler without principles... you are a... trustworthy good person."

Xiulote was silent for a long time. At last, he waved his hand and turned to leave. Behind him, Olte gave a deep bow.

The mutual oath was formally signed. Under the profound twilight, the envoy group of the Otomi hastened away. Xiulote sat in the big tent, silently watching the darkening sky, lost in long thoughts. Light and darkness interwove repeatedly in the young man's heart, weaving a blended grey. Behind him, Bertade stood quietly, having witnessed the vicissitudes of the world.

The Mexica army waited for another two days. An eight-thousand-strong Xiquipilli legion marched out from Otapan City, led by Jiowar, officially joining the Northern Route Army of the Mexica.

Xiulote, leading his escort, was overjoyed to welcome the Otapan legion, but was at a loss for words for a moment. Among the legion promised by the old Priest Olte, only three thousand were lean samurai capable of battle. As for the remaining five thousand Otomi militiamen, each was skinny and bony, with sunken eyes from hunger, likely not having had a full meal for months.

The Young Commander watched for a moment and shook his head with a wry smile. These militiamen could only be used as laborers and would need sufficient food, at least half a month of nurturing, no wonder the old Priest agreed so readily. However, the shipping capacity of the Mexica's Naval Forces was limited, and there were not enough laborers in the Northern Route Army. With these people, many miscellaneous tasks could be handled. Some labor-intensive siege engines began to appear in his mind, like tower cars that fully utilized the range advantage and complex structure, as well as mounds built up for high platforms.

Having achieved their objective, the Mexica's grand army then turned back south, returning to the wooden fort on the banks of the Lerma River. The Otomi were dispersed and settled in two camps far from the main fort. The warriors of Otapan maintained an independent organization, self-contained. The five thousand militiamen were organized to cut down forest trees and produce siege engines. The continuous rain kept falling, but the intensity began to lessen. The rainy season had passed its peak, and new opportunities for battle were brewing.

Time hurried on, and in the blink of an eye, it was September. Tarasco's fleet returned from the west, bringing full shiploads of Chapala reinforcements. Seeing the gradually gathering enemy, Xiulote felt some anxiety. He dispatched a large number of scouts to keep watch on the southern banks at all times.

On another clear morning, after completing his morning exercises, Xiulote went up to the ramparts to gaze into the distance. The rain was gradually clearing and the clouds thinning. Under the gradually emerging sunlight, the vast Mexica fleet finally appeared once more from the east of the great river.