Chapter 584 Suppression

The sun was in the sky, casting a blazing glow; the head hung high, dripping with drops of blood. Under the light and blood, more than 10,000 Tlaxcala captives were panicked and forced to gather in the center of the village. Sharp spear tips closed from all directions. The strong warriors showed ruthless killing intent. Even the moist air seemed to be filled with the smell of death.

"Tlaxcala people! The power of the Lord God is the sun, the fire, and the light! He, in the highest clouds, shines on everything on earth! And all the resisters, rebels, unbelievers, and evil people are dead!"

Pimon held a spear, standing in front of hundreds of warriors, facing tens of thousands of terrified moth people. He looked cold and shouted word by word in the not-so-fluent Nahua language.

"Your Majesty will move you to the south of the kingdom! There, you will get new fields and new huts. You will have enough food and be blessed by the Lord God! As long as you dare to fight and fight bravely, the humble moth people will have the opportunity to be promoted to warriors or even nobles! Such a bright future is the gift of your Majesty and the promise of the God of War!"

Hearing this, the Tlaxcalans were silent, with a complicated look on their faces. Most of them were used to obedience, feared the military power of the Mexica people, and dared not have too many expectations. Similarly, His Majesty the Mexica, in the name of the God of Death, also brought them a vague awe.

However, when the noble descendants of the Cloud Snake God called on the captives to riot, there were still many young and strong people in the tribe who participated in it in a confused manner. The divine rule of the nobles has lasted too long, how can it be wiped out overnight?

"Your Majesty is so kind, the Lord God is so majestic, but some people don't know how to live or die!"

At this point, Pimon's eyes widened with anger. He raised his spear angrily, pointed at the wooden pole in the center, and roared.

"Yesterday, a group of captives rioted and fled! Today, their heads are all here! Give them to me, look carefully! Your Majesty is the incarnation of the god of death. If you dare to disobey, you will only end up dead!"

A mountain breeze blew, and more than a hundred fresh heads swayed on the tall wooden poles. Most of their faces were full of fear. Their eyes were frozen, staring at the equally terrified Tlaxcala captives.

"Now, I give you a chance! Who participated in yesterday's riot? Stand up! In front of the Lord God, I will give him a glorious death!"

The cold words echoed in the field. The noisy Tlaxcala captives were instantly silent. Many people lowered their heads, not daring to look at the Purépecha warriors around them. In the center of the entire square, you could almost hear a pin drop.

"Ha! Are the descendants of the cloud snake so cowardly? Ha! They are just grass rats in the mud, hiding in the cracks and shivering! Pah! What noble snake descendants? They are just lowly ticks that eat grass!"

"Ah! Damn it!"

Hearing such humiliation, a young noble warrior could no longer bear it. He shouted, stood up suddenly, and strode out from the hidden crowd.

"Damn Western barbarians! The descendants of the cloud snake are born noble! Even if I die, I will make you pay the price of humiliation with blood!"

"Good! You are worthy of being a noble descendant of the Tlaxcala people, and you are a real warrior! Who else? Is this the only warrior among the Tlaxcala people? If you don't dare to stand up now, then prepare to go thousands of miles away and be a moth-farming person!"

"And me! Cholulabang, the noble anaconda!"

Inspired by this, another strong man jumped out of the crowd. He was agile, and even with his bare hands, he was still as powerful as a tiger, obviously a well-trained warrior.

"Let me farm for my old enemy, the Aztecs, like a moth-bearer. It would be better to die here and return to the kingdom of God!"

"Good! You are a warrior as dahlia-like and majestic! Who else?"

"I! The noble flower python from the mountaintop city!"

"I! The noble viper from the water valley city!"

Soon, another eight or nine young noble warriors, no longer hiding their identities, walked out from the tens of thousands of young and strong captives. Each of them has divine blood, and has a natural appeal among the Tlaxcalans who respect noble races.

"Good, very good! You are really a warrior worthy of admiration!"

Pimon nodded repeatedly with respect. He looked around at the thousands of captives and waited patiently.

"Are there any more? Are there any noble descendants of the cloud snakes, and any truly brave warriors?"

The shouts that were not afraid of death were always few in number. Soon, the field was quiet again. The captives shut their mouths tightly, looking nervous, watching more than a dozen noble warriors standing up, waiting for the gorgeous and destined end.

"Then, the Lord God is a witness!"

Pimon stretched out his hand and clenched the sun amulet around his neck. He looked serious and bowed slightly to the warrior opposite.

"This is a reverent battle, a battle dedicated to the gods! Souls go to the kingdom of God, death is not the end, glory belongs to the dead in battle!"

"Give them, each a spear! Then, kill them!"

The sacred battle soon began, fierce, cruel and short. A dozen Tlaxcala nobles fought hard, roared loudly, and were drowned by the forest of spears. In just half a quarter of an hour, another dozen wooden poles were erected, hanging heads with open eyes.

"This is a sacred battle! The Supreme Lord God will lead the souls of the dead in battle and let them enjoy the beauty forever!"

Pimon dropped the broken spear, picked up the bloody short axe, and prayed loudly. Then, he looked at the captives with gloomy faces and shouted in a deep voice.

"All the noble descendants of the Cloud Snake have bravely stood up and died here! And the rest are not worthy of being descendants of the Snake!"

"."

No one responded, and no one dared to stand up again. At this moment, it was as if a heavy hammer fell and hit the captives' hearts hard, smashing some last remnants into pieces.

Pi Meng held a short axe and looked around. He felt the spirit of the captives and always felt that something was missing. What was missing?

"More than 10,000 captives, only more than 100 were executed. How can the majesty of the Lord God be engraved into the bones and remembered by everyone?"

Pi Meng's eyes were sharp, and after a little thought, he pronounced again.

"The noble warriors who stood up just now came from seven migrating teams, totaling thousands of people!"

Tens of thousands of captives were escorted southward, and they would naturally be divided into many teams. Some of these teams were remnants of tribes, some were in-law groups, and some were spontaneous organizations, ranging in number from dozens to hundreds.

In this era, with the management ability of the tribal warriors, it is impossible to go deep into each one and find out everything. In fact, even the leaders of each team may not know how many people there are in each team.

"The alliance has long issued a military order that all those who hide the nobles of the gods and plot rebellion will be sacrificed and executed!"

Hearing this, Chivaco's old face trembled and his whole body shuddered. He smelled a strong smell of blood, which was a sign of death, so clear.

"Go, the eagles of Prepecha! Arrest all the men in these seven teams, more than a thousand people!"

Pimon looked cold and hard, and swung the copper axe hard. Red blood beads splashed from the axe blade and went straight into people's hearts.

"Let them identify each other, report the nobles among the tens of thousands of captives, and expose the men who participated in the riot! Expose one man, one life, report one noble, ten lives! When the time is up, all the remaining people will be sacrificed to the Lord God, and no one can be spared!"