"Is this... a sharp spear from the south?"
"Haha, these are Tarasco copper spears!"
Ozoma smiled, waved his hand, and motioned for Masate to keep looking down.
The guard captain roared, and the Chieftain guard thrust their copper spears simultaneously, aiming for the vanguard, Quino! Sharp copper tips crisscrossed from all directions, absolutely unavoidable.
Quino immediately felt a pain in his flank, but with his copper armor protection, he was not pierced. He roared in fury, swinging his war club with all his might, barely managing to fend off a few attacks.
Zucata’s expression was wooden, but he agilely thrust with his copper spear, hitting Quino’s calf. The valiant Samurai felt a sharp pain and his knees buckled, unable to support him any longer and he fell to the ground. Afterward, Zucata swung his spear and struck Quino on the back of the head with a thump, and the valiant Samurai blacked out, unconscious.
"Spare him, continue killing!"
The spear formation of the guards passed over the fallen Quino, and continued their alternating thrusts, stabbing down the surrounding warriors! In less than a quarter of an hour, the fighting in the depths of the forest came to a stop, with over two hundred Guamare warriors lying dead in an area, entangled with the bodies of over a hundred Canine Descendants.
As the last enemy fell in the forest, hundreds of Canine Warriors howled and danced, emitting cries like a pack of wolves. Then, like carrion birds, they pounced onto the bodies of the warriors, searching for any useful objects. The Canine people looted everything of use and even finished off the wounded from both sides. In the wilderness of the Tribes, medicine was scarce and life was cheap. Delivering the badly injured warriors from their suffering was a traditional practice and did not affect morale.
The rich scent of blood wafted through the forest, and the cries of agony quickly dissipated. The Canine people eagerly donned the enemy’s cotton armor and picked up the warriors’ war clubs. From the forest at the edge of the mountains, the sounds of battle grew even more intense.
Ozoma looked in the direction of the noise, where hundreds of Tribal Warriors had taken refuge among the trees, combating the advancing Guamare warriors. He turned his head, his expression solemn.
"Masate, Otomi’s reinforcement dogs are coming up. Should we retreat to our camp now, or fight a bit more?"
"Don’t rush, let’s fight in the forest a bit longer! The terrain here is favorable for us. Having lost the camp, we must kill more enemies to answer to the Chichika leader. Moreover, these enemies are all elite with good equipment! Once the warriors have stripped them of their cotton armor, we’ll leave!"
The Red Deer Chieftain pondered briefly before making a decision. The Tribal Warriors continued to fight and die for their chieftains, shedding blood in the mountain forest. Then, he looked eagerly at the Red Monkey Chieftain.
"Ozoma, your group of Chieftain guards wielding those cumbersome long spears, their power is so great! How were they trained?"
"Haha, Masate, are you eyeing my guard?"
Ozoma waved his hand, shaking his head and laughing.
"Well, this is not our wilderness battle technique, and it might not be suited for combat in the wilderness..."
"Ozoma, I of course know this isn’t a wilderness battle technique! I’m asking, how were they trained?"
Masate’s eyes widened, and he brandished the war club in his hand with a formidable air. Ozoma immediately took two steps back and waved him over.
"Zucata, hurry up and come over here, stand by my side!"
Zucata had already tied up Quino. Dragging the unconscious warrior with one hand and holding the stripped copper armor with the other, he strode to his chieftain’s side.
"For you, Chieftain! This one is a noble prisoner from the Otomi! And this should be a bronze Cloth Armor from the Mexica!"
"Good! Zucata, my valiant club!"
In the Prepetcha language, ’Zucata’ means a club or a branch. Ozoma praised him once and took the heavy Cloth Armor with both hands. Then, without changing his expression, he gestured casually.
"Send two people to take the prisoner back to the rear camp."
"Ah! Is this the thick hide of the Cactus Tribe, impervious to both arrows and spears when worn?"
A fervent gleam shone in Masate’s eyes. He reached out, snatched the Cloth Armor, and greedily stroked it up and down. Beneath the thick and soft layers of cloth was a set of unusually sturdy bronze plates.
"It’s so sturdy, like a turtle’s shell!... Right, you just said, what’s it called, bronze Cloth Armor? What is bronze?"
Upon hearing the question, Zucata was taken aback. He looked to the Red Monkey Chieftain, Ozoma. Ozoma smiled and gesticulated.
"Masate, I can tell you the secret of the southern people. But this armor, this thick hide, is mine!"
"Damn! Cunning monkey, that’s impossible!"
Masate cursed aloud. He looked back at his followers, and the thought of the hundreds of casualties pained his heart.
"Ozoma, this is what I got in exchange for the lives of five hundred warriors, and my personal efforts to lure the enemy! Even if the Chichika leader were to demand it in person, I wouldn’t give it up!"
As he spoke, the Red Deer Chieftain swung his war club, bringing a whoosh of wind. Ozoma promptly took another two steps back, cursing under his breath.
"Stingy deer, I knew I shouldn’t have come to your rescue! What is a piece of bronze Cloth Armor worth? Did you know, the powerful Kingdom to the south has thousands of these armors!"
"Ah? Thousands of thick hides?"
The Red Deer Chieftain looked shocked and incredulous.
"Ozoma, are you bluffing me?"
"Bluffing you? I’m actually understating it. You have no idea about the strength of the southern Kingdom!"
Ozoma shook his head.
"Do you know about the Cactus Tribe’s campaign to the west? The Divine Eagle Tribe and the Cactus Tribe both invoked their divine spirits, mobilizing a hundred thousand warriors! They fought over a vast terrain extending five hundred li north to south, from the Lerma River to the farther south Tarsas River, both rivers turned to red with blood!"