The golden Sun gradually sank to the west, casting a brilliant glow that fell upon the "Black Wolf" flag of the East. The Mexica legion’s commander’s flag shimmered resplendently as if bathed in the Sun God’s blessed gaze. The slanting sunlight illuminated the hills to the west, drawing out layers of shadows that enveloped the "Feathers" commander’s flag. Expanding, the vast shadow stretched forth, obscuring the battlefield clamoring with slaughter, submerging the blood-drenched killing. It was as if the hand of the God of Death reached out, seizing the souls offered in sacrifice.
The fierce battle had been raging for two or three quarters, light and shadow interweaving continuously as the battlefield developments, akin to the ever-changing human heart.
Xiulote, holding the grand flag high, stood in the dazzling light, staring at the enemy Marshal hidden within the shadows.
The "Feathers" flag stood loftily, seemingly sturdy as a mountain. Around the commander’s flag, small dots of Envoys scurried to relay orders. Chapala’s Archers were organized once more, unleashing relentless volleys of arrows down upon the slope, striving hard to inflict casualties.
Xiulote frowned slightly. The enemy Archers resumed action, pushing forward desperately to shoot at the cannon crews. The range of the wooden cannons was extremely limited and they numbered only two; now they had to retreat to the rear, slow to reload.
The Young Commander pondered for a moment before waving the command flag. Three thousand of his Personal Army advanced rapidly until within fifty paces. Then, a high-pitched flute sound rang out as the Longbow Warriors rapidly drew their bows, releasing the final curtain of arrows. Arrows whistled "whoosh whoosh" into the sky, then clattered down, pinning the enemy Archers in groups to the hill.
Below the Archers was the fiercely contesting central force. The central force’s enemy split into two formations, a full five thousand Samurai strong. These enemy elites, under the intense charge of the Holy City Legion, lost more than five hundred in moments, their morale visibly faltering, but now they gradually recovered from the chaos. They held the higher ground, were well-equipped, and once they steadied their fortified position, the Holy City Warriors were firmly blocked, and casualties began to mount.
Xiulote grasped the flag steadfastly, his spirit soaring, meticulously observing both flanks.
The left wing, known as "Monkey", encountered a formidable adversary. The sky-blue Chapala Warriors, swift and orderly in their maneuvers, flexible in their movements, were locked in a stalemate of relentless advancing and retreating. On the right wing, Etalik held the advantage; the silver-white enemy was fewer in number and tactical rigid. They merely formed into dense shield formations, raising their Copper Spears, struggling to ward off the onslaught of the Spear Legion. Every so often, someone emitted a dying scream, skewered by the crossing Spears.
The Young Commander pondered briefly, then he hesitated no longer. He swung the command flag vigorously, directing it towards the enemy on the right wing, unleashing the Reserve Warriors he held in his grasp!
The battle drums sounded furiously, resonating with the Warriors’ spirits. Two thousand of the Divine Blessing Legion and a thousand Temple Guards erupted with a thunderous cry.
"Chief Divine’s protection, fight for the divine!"
Following that, Divine Legion Commander Natali, war club and shield in hand, dressed in traditional Otomi War Clothes, charged forward. With devout cries of "Huitzilopochtli," he led the equally fervent Divine Blessing Legion into battle. Swinging to a curved right side, they savagely penetrated the silver-white enemy’s flank. The Divine Warriors wielded their War Clubs unstoppably beneath the enemy’s Copper Spears, advancing with a death-defying resolve and pierced through their ranks in moments.
The "silver" Warriors, attacked on both sides, fell into an absolute disadvantage. More perilously, under the cunning leadership of Etalik, a thousand Temple Guards were circling to the rear, poised to launch a lethal ambush!
In the shadow of the hill, "Feathers" Pengguari’s expression was somber as he observed the flank’s battle scene. The Mexica had committed their fierce Reserve Troops, charging towards the most vulnerable flank. These Legions, dressed as the Otomi, were extremely ferocious, fighting with reckless abandon, and were on the verge of breaking through the "silver" Warriors.
"The ’silver’ formation is at the brink of collapse; once the encircling enemy arrives, they absolutely won’t hold!"
"Feathers" Marshal, after all, was a commander who had participated in wars for many years. Although he dreaded mythical force and often felt faint when faced with danger, his predictions about battle developments were highly accurate.
Pengguari’s gaze flickered; first, he glanced at the central force’s trusted aides, with half the Reserve Warriors still in his hands. Then his gaze turned cold, considering the entangled "Sky" Legion, then the collapsing periphery and the encircling enemy. He pondered but briefly before making a decisive judgment! The Marshal swiftly sent out his trusted aide, summoning the loyal Head Warrior.
In but a dozen breaths, "silver" Great Nobility Tekata, abandoning command of the archers, rushed forward in haste. His silver war clothes stained with fresh blood, his shield bearing several deeply embedded Feathered Arrows, reflected the brutality of the front lines. At this moment, his expression was particularly anxious, the usual laughter gone.
"Prince! The ’silver’ Warriors cannot hold on; please send reinforcements quickly!"
Tekata approached urgently, grasping the arm of "Feathers" Prince.
"Our flank is overwhelmed by the enemy’s elite troops! Prince, please send forth your Reserve Forces from your grasp!"
Pengguari nodded. He waved the command flag, and the battle drums sounded immediately. Thousands of Militia, their heads bowed low, weapons in hand, were driven forward by prodding Warriors, confronting the encircling Temple Guards.
"’Silver’ Family Head, please hurry back to the front line, command the archers in battle there! I shall support the flanks myself!"
Tekata turned to look for a moment, his face growing increasingly desperate. The supporting Militia had just recently scattered; their morale was now profoundly low. They were barely resisting the fervent Temple Warriors, ineffective in the grand scheme of things. The "Sky" family’s Warriors were on the verge of collapse!