Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!

Time rushed by, and before long it was the end of September. The weather became ever clearer, and in the fields, the corn had produced fully grown ears, the final harvest was about to arrive.

Standing on the walls of the Rivermouth fortress, Ospe looked out at the flowing Lerma River, but could not see any trace of the Mexica naval fleet.

He furrowed his brow and sank into deep thought. According to the latest reconnaissance by the scouts, the enemy camp on the North Coast was brimming with warriors donned in armor, Pike Warriors, and many toiling Militia. On the wooden fort at its center, the flag of the Mexica Holy City's lineage fluttered high. The number of the enemy warriors amounted to tens of thousands, seemingly no different from before.

"But the main force of the enemy's naval forces is nowhere to be found."

The "Crocodile" nobility tilted his head up to the brilliant sky and murmured to himself.

After hesitating for a long time, "Turkey" Kukuna, standing by his side, still spoke up to offer advice.

"Respected Commander Ospe, the Mexica Commander-in-Chief on the other side is not to be underestimated. The main force of the enemy's naval forces might not have returned to the east but is probably lying in ambush somewhere downstream, ready to ambush either the supporting land or naval forces at any moment!"

Ospe's eyes rounded in surprise, and he said loudly.

"Turkey, I have fought old battles, do I need you to teach me this? The Otomi on the North Coast know the terrain well; they can hide the Mexica warriors and naval forces anywhere. The Otomi Warriors harrying our forces downstream are merely bait. The fisherman is right behind, waiting for us to take the bait!"

Facing the marshal's formidable presence from the North, Kukuna's expression tensed. He nodded repeatedly and continued to advise in a quiet voice.

"Commander, why must we fight desperately against the Mexica? They dare not advance deeply from the Sakapu army and expose their lengthy supply lines. We should just stay in the fortress and wait for the enemy to come attack!"

At those words, Ospe's face showed anger, a roar escaping him—though this rage was not directed at Kukuna.

"The feathered warriors of Chapala clamor for battle every day, and I can barely contain them! More and more executed nobility, wave upon wave of regional leaders fleeing to us, all requesting that I dispatch troops to expel the ravaging Otomi! Even the officers under my command are calling for battle! If I don't fight now, by the time this war is over, I will have completely lost the support of the regional nobility. By then, even the King may not be able to protect me, nor might he wish to!"

Hearing these ominous words laced with profound meaning, Kukuna paused with a stunned look. He pondered for a moment, then spoke with trepidation.

"Commander, the enemy's Longbows are fearsome! Faced with their archery advantage, we cannot be assured of victory in a naval battle!"

Upon saying this, Ospe's anger gradually subsided. Still looking up, he laughed loudly with self-satisfaction.

"I was personally shot by an enemy Greatbow warrior, how could I not be prepared?"

The "Crocodile" commander turned, looking towards a burly warrior not far behind. This was the bloodied hero who captured the Mexica Longbow during the last pursuit.

"Qingyu Kulucha, I entrusted you with the renovation of all the large boats; are they all completed now?"

Kulucha's face was stern, his demeanor fierce. He now respectfully bowed his head and answered.

"Respected Commander, thousands of Militia have worked day and night, and all four hundred old-style large boats have been remodeled and are ready for battle at any time!"

At this news, Ospe nodded with satisfaction. He looked at Kukuna and issued an order in a clear voice.

"Kukuna, stay with the Militia and guard the fortress well! Don't worry about the enemy's Longbows; I have deliberately kept the large boats from battle to give the Mexica a surprise!"

Afterwards, the "Crocodile" noble looked up at the clear sky again and laughed aloud confidently.

"Since the fisherman wants to fish, let them hook a crocodile and see who ends up eating whom!"

The next day, the water gates of the Rivermouth Fortress opened wide, and the Tarasco Naval Forces finally launched a major offensive. After a sweeping recruitment in the Chapala Lake Region, Ospe now had a total of four hundred large boats and over a thousand small boats at his command! He brought together all the northern warships and led eight thousand warriors, including the Chapala Legion, along with more than ten thousand Militia and over six thousand sailors. The whole army surged forth, flowing westward downstream.

The marshal of the North was full of bold enthusiasm. He held the upper hand both in upstream position and in ship and troop strength. Now he was about to cut off the Mexica naval forces' path home, launching a major battle intended to annihilate the predicted enemy naval forces' main strength!

A light boat raced with the most urgent news. Soon, within the Mexica fleet at Lake Yuriria, Xiulote sprang to his feet. He looked towards the fiery red sunset, as well as to the upstream southeast of the great river, where the enemy's naval forces were only a day's distance away.

The Young Commander felt a surge of surprise; he did not anticipate that the opponent's commander would be so decisive. When he moved, it was with the entire army pressing forward, as swift as a Thunderbolt! He rapidly convened the warriors stationed on shore and called back the raiding squadrons on the South Coast overnight, consolidating all his strength, ready for battle.

A day later, the Mexica naval forces had fully convened on Lake Yuriria. Xiulote commanded three hundred large boats and nearly a thousand smaller ones, prepared for battle. The mighty fleet, carrying eight thousand elite warriors, three thousand Longbow Militia, five thousand ordinary sailors, and over three hundred hastily summoned Otomi Warriors, stood solemnly waiting on the calm lake surface.

As the autumn sun rose halfway into the sky, pouring golden sunlight down, the boundless Tarasco fleet appeared from the southeast upstream. By an unspoken agreement between the two commanders, the two mightiest fleets in Central America finally encountered each other at the end of September, on Lake Yuriria's waters. The decisive battle that would determine the fate of the world had arrived!

The fleets of both sides gradually drew closer, with the commanders' flags in distant sight of each other. To the southeast flew the crocodile banner, symbolizing the primal crocodile Xipactli, devourer of the earth. To the northwest danced the Black Wolf banner, representing Xiulotel, the Mexica God of Death, guardian of the illuminating sky. Crocodile versus Black Wolf, the colossal fleets obscured the whole of Lake Yuriria, War Clubs and Copper Spears gleamed coldly; this would be a battle of mythic proportions!