"Aztec Eternal (

With an unusually sharp horn, on every wall, the samurai and militiamen suddenly leaned out halfway and shot the arrow of death fiercely. Half-drawn their new longbows, they fired sharp copper arrows that pierced through the cotton armor of the running warriors. Pulling traditional single wooden bows, they unleash bone arrows with fangs that pierce the heads and faces of stagnating warriors.

Giova below the city held up her shield and looked up. Then, his pupils shrank, his body squatted down subconsciously, and raised his shield over his head. Thousands of Tarasco archers fired arrows at the same time, and a deadly rain of arrows suddenly shot out from the top of the city, roaring through the air. The shield in Giova's hand rattled again and again, and then there was a sharp sting in his shoulder, and it was obvious that he had been hit by an arrow. Several guards next to him rolled to the ground like gourds, screamed and covered their heads and faces, and struggled to be shot into hedgehogs.

Almost at the same time, hundreds of Tarrasco militiamen rose to their feet and shouted for the exit. They raised their arms, took aim a little, and threw pointed wooden spears with arm lengths and fist-sized boulders under the city wall. The wooden throwing spear was condescending, accompanied by the dull sound of the wind, mercilessly penetrated the body of the samurai, and pinned them to the ground. The heavy stone continued to accelerate, with an irresistible force, slammed on the warrior's leather helmet, knocking down the man and the helmet together.

Giova crouched on the ground, hiding her body directly behind the large shield, and no longer cared about watching the battle. The violent collision sound "bang bang" came, and the screams of the guards were incessant, and they were quickly weak. In the siege battle at this moment, even the strong samurai can die at any time, and the leather armor on his body seems so weak.

Not far away, Shulot could see more clearly in a blink of an eye. This wave of long-prepared salvos immediately cleared a void and crucified hundreds of Otomi warriors!

The young commander waved the flag quickly, the same sharp conch horn sounded, and more than a thousand Mexican bowmen also shot arrows towards the city head. Feather arrows and crossbow bolts were like raging torrents, and they washed down the weeds at the head of the city in a moment.

A shrewd Tarrasco warrior with a longbow in his hand, his face fierce. At a distance of forty paces, he shot a precise arrow into the cheek of the Ottopan warrior, and immediately became the target of the archers in the city. The shrewd warrior was about to shoot the arrow again, but his hand slammed and let go weakly, letting the copper arrow in his hand fall.

A bone arrow pierced through his defenseless chin, slanting through his mouth, accompanied by a "puchi" sound in the flesh. The unbearable pain came instantly, and the samurai did not die immediately, and was still trying to open his mouth in vain. Then, another crossbow bolt roared, piercing the samurai's chest. He knelt down instantly, his hands still struggling. It was not until an unusually precise arrow pierced his eye, piercing two inches, that he finally got his final release, and he fell back at the head of the city.

Four or five Tarrasco militia shooters got close. Dressed in commoner clothes, they shot arrows in the narrow gaps of their shields, shouting to shoot down the enemy. More than 20 feather arrows came along with the shouting, most of which were blocked by the shield, which brought a banging sound.

Only four or five long arrows penetrated from different gaps, and then penetrated into the weak body without stopping. The long arrows at close range were powerful, and were not blocked by commoners and flesh and blood. The militiamen cried out in agony and struggled, but they could not separate. They just ripped open the wound, oozing more bright red, and then solidified into a still group of sculptures.

And the brave Tarrasco militia raised his right arm high and threw a powerful short spear. As soon as the short spear was shot, the strong crossbow arrow slammed into his exposed chest, and he fell silently down the city wall. In the last moments of his life, he only saw his short spear hit the target and plunge into a charging Ottopan warrior. The other party staggered two steps, then fell down, his face buried in the soil. Then, the brave militiamen also smashed the dust, and died two steps away from the samurai who fell to the ground with the spear.

Shulot was expressionless and nodded slightly. The shooting Tarasco was difficult to cover completely, and this wave of arrows at close range also took away nearly a hundred defenders. The projectile firepower of the city head was stagnant, and the archers hid again. From the gap between the wooden sign and the earthen platform, they shot down the city intermittently, and their accuracy was greatly weakened.

The fierce drums never stopped, and Ottopan's warriors roared and charged, and finally came under the city. More than a dozen warriors desperately erected a heavy wooden ladder and put it on the bluestone city wall, and they could climb to the city in a blink of an eye.

The Tarrasco man on the top of the city stuck his head out again. Under the urging of the supervising warriors, the militiamen suddenly threw clay pots of different sizes, and then threw down heavy wood and stones. The pottery smashed to the top of the city and burst violently, emitting a cloud of gray-white powder. The Ottopan warrior below the city let out a scream that was not like a human voice, then covered his eyes with his hands and rolled on the ground in pain. This is the raw and hydrated lime commonly found in volcanic areas, used for many years in construction and agricultural production.

The warriors under the city turned a blind eye, let go of their palms, and ran away in a daze. The wooden ladder then slanted to the ground, crushing the two samurai directly. The wood and stones at the top of the city also fell with a "bang", smashing several warriors into a ball on the ground, and the ground was quickly dyed red and gray.

Witnessing this tragic scene, the nearby archers quickly adjusted and began to give priority to the militiamen who were throwing clay pots. On the city wall, a Tarasco militiaman shouted the name of God frantically, raised the pottery pot in his hand, and was about to drop it. Several feathered arrows came "boom," and shot him from top to bottom. The militiaman fell back suddenly, unable to lift the clay pot containing the lime any longer, and the pot fell silently.

Behind him, several militiamen from the same village were so frightened that their faces turned pale, and they pushed them behind him without hesitation. The fanatical militiamen took the slipped clay pot and fell from a height of six meters together, and then burst into bloom on the ground, bringing out a scattered white mist. A shrill scream rang out from under the city, but it was a few Ottopan warriors who were suddenly blinded.

The militiamen in the city just breathed a sigh of relief when the whistling feather arrow struck again, nailing most of the militiamen to death, and only one person escaped. The militiamen who escaped were heartbroken, lay motionless in the pool of blood at the head of the city, and never wanted to stand up to defend the city. When the warrior overseeing the battle saw the gap, he waved his bronze spear and drove the next group of militiamen to the city. Then, without hesitation, he ordered the last militiaman to be thrown into the city together with the corpse of the same village. Soon, there was a final scream from the city.

The archers of the earth platform and the shield car were strongly suppressed, and the archers of the nest car were fixed to clean up. Soon, a few more chaotic walls appeared on the left side of Nancheng. Hundreds of Ottopan warriors finally secured their wooden ladders and climbed up through these chaotic gaps. After a dozen or so breaths, dozens of warriors climbed to the top of the city, shouting excitedly. They wielded shields, resisted the piercing bronze spears, threw out their sticks, and fought with a large group of Tarrasco militiamen.

Shirott's eyes lit up with anticipation on his face. He waved the flag, and the tall and strong temple guards lined up, ready to go to support at any time. Then, the crossbowmen on the high platform received orders one after another to focus their shots on both sides of the city walls, crucifying a group of militiamen.

On the top of the wall, a Tarasco militiaman was shot in the head with an arrow and died on his back, the Tlaxcala wooden bow in his hand fell to the side. Two steps away, the young militiaman Wezti's eyes were red and he was about to reach for the wooden bow. Then with a "bang", he was knocked **** the forehead, abruptly interrupting his movements.

"Stupid wood! Don't take that wooden bow, you'll die if you take it!"

The hometown accent came from behind Wizti, awakening him from the urge to fight. The young militiaman squatted and turned around, and saw the familiar old militiaman Chihuaco. The old militiaman was also squatting, pushing a chest-sized stone in his hand. He had a thick wooden shield on his head and was fastened to his chin with sisal rope, like a shelled river turtle.

"Uncle, where did you get this shield? Isn't there a gentleman's helmet over there?"

Wezti shook his dizzy head and took a closer look at Chiwako's appearance. Last time, the old militiamen took them all the way to escape from the battlefield. After rowing for three days, they had to return to the fortress one step before the marshal. Since then, the old militia has been promoted to be a leader in everyone's mind, a convincing old man.

The sound of fierce fighting fluttered in the sky, and the "whoosh" arrows passed through the top of the head. Chiwako shuddered, looked left and right, but did not see the samurai master. He said in a low voice.

"Don't wear a gentleman's helmet, and don't wear a gentleman's leather armor, the Mexicans are staring at that suit and shooting! You go find a shield, or a clay pot on top. Then join me and squat Push the stone down!"

Wizti vaguely understood something. He bent down, found an empty clay pot and put it on his head, then pushed the stone with the old militiaman.

Soon, the supporting samurai masters were nervous and carried spears to the top of the city. They hurried past and rushed towards the river, loudly driving the militiamen along the way. Arrows whistling under the city also shot straight at the city head over there, bringing down groups of militiamen from time to time.

Chiwako pressed the stone in his hand and looked carefully in his eyes.

He watched the tragic battle not far away, and dozens of lean warriors kept rushing to the top of the city to fight with the supporting gentlemen. From time to time, people screamed and fell to the ground, or fell outside the city, or fell into the city. There is like a fire for boiling soup, and the gentlemen on both sides are like throwing firewood, constantly boiling the city head, causing the blood to splash like boiling soup.

The old militiaman shuddered again. He took out the blood-stained herbal bag and took two hard breaths. The smell of the medicine bag is getting lighter and lighter, and the **** smell is much more. But somehow, this action calmed him down.

When the old militiaman came back to his senses, he saw that Wizti was already one step ahead of him, about to push the big stone off the city wall. Angrily, he grabbed the young militiaman's pants and pulled him to the ground.

"Wizti, come back to me! Are you stupid?! Are you really going to throw this big rock down? Look at it, it's the only big guy nearby. After pushing it down, the gentlemen have to force it. Shooting arrows and spears at you... push me back!"

The young militiaman froze for a moment. He looked around, and there was a lot of fighting around. Afterwards, he obediently pushed the big stone back, and together with the old militiaman, he performed a squatting movement of pushing the stone.

"Uncle, the Mexicans are very fierce today. Do you think we can hold it?"

In the tragic fight up and down the city, the old militiamen looked around while squatting and pretending. He spoke casually.

"Now all the new gentlemen are coming, and the hundreds of old gentlemen who are behind have not come, they are all waiting under the city wall. Today's situation is estimated to be able to be defended. But looking at the fierce momentum of the Mexicans, the back Ah, I'm afraid it won't last long!"

Having said this, the old militiaman sighed and muttered to himself.

"Why can't the rocket I picked up become a fire demon? Otherwise, ask the nobles for a job guarding the water gate, and you can survive at a critical moment!"

Not long after returning last time, a nobleman came down and re-formed the militia. The old militiaman Chiwako took the opportunity to donate the rocket he picked up.

The gentlemen were overjoyed, took the rocket for repeated research, took apart the round cardboard shell in the middle, identified the charcoal powder inside, and what kind of "dead man's stone". Then the gentlemen dried the damp powder and carefully lit it. As a result, this thing is actually no different from ordinary toner, that is, it burns normally, it produces choking smoke, and there is no sudden burst of fire.

Chiwako didn't understand it, and the gentlemen didn't figure it out either, and the promised reward was gone. The old militiaman was just promoted to be a militia squad leader, in charge of more than a dozen militiamen, and then threw it at the most fierce Nancheng head, becoming a group in the firewood pile. It has only been over ten days, and the militiamen under his command are almost dead, and now there are only a few obedient compatriots left, fishing for fish in the city.

The old militiaman was thinking, but in the "whoosh" arrow rain, he heard Wizti's terrified cry.

"Uncle, uncle! The Mexicans are coming up!"

Chiwako shivered and looked forward. I don't know when, another group of lean warriors stepped forward, picked up the wooden ladder that fell on the ground, and took it to the top of the city again. Following the movements of the warriors, the arrows behind him swept across the city head first, passed through his back, and shot the militiamen behind him to death.

The old militiaman's hands and feet were cold and his face was pale. In a critical moment, he showed unimaginable agility. After crawling backwards with his hands and legs, he shouted, "I'm going to get the stone, everyone hurry down!"

Wizti was the first to push the boulder down, smashing an Ottopan warrior straight into the dirt. The wooden ladder under the city swayed, and then took it to the top of the city again.

The militiamen at the back rushed forward and threw a short spear at the wooden ladder. Another militiaman hurriedly picked up the wooden bow on the ground and shot an arrow down, killing a samurai. After a while, a feathered arrow hit him accurately, shot through his throat, and the tip of the arrow came out through his neck.

Vizti, trembling in his heart, also crawled to get the stone. Several samurai in the rear rushed forward, kicked and beat the militiamen to the front, and then held the spear in person. The wooden ladder was finally stable at the top of the city, and the copper hooks were hooked to the city wall. The two militiamen tried hard to push them down, but they were only thrown into a gourd. Then, a dozen Ortomipan warriors ascended the city like dexterous apes with awe-inspiring killing intent.

The current samurai dashed forward, pushing the militia back a few steps. Then, a dozen samurai climbed up, wielding sharp-edged battle sticks, slicing through the frail body of the militia. More than a dozen copper spears stabbed, but they were accurately blocked by the opponent's shield. Years of martial arts were like instinct. The Tarasco warriors in the rear led the charge, and the militiamen followed, and the spears and battle sticks fought together, and fell on both sides.

An old militiaman, Chiwako, leaned out from behind a kneeling corpse and quickly looked at the situation. He looked at the more and more enemy warriors gathered, and then looked at the militiamen of his own side who were constantly being killed, and he felt a chill in his heart. If it goes on like this, even if the follow-up reinforcements arrive and can drive down the enemy at the head of the city, I will not be able to last until that time!

Chiwako tried his best to think, was in a daze for a moment, and then shouted loudly to his side.

"Woods, come here with long spears and squat beside me!"

Hearing the familiar voice, Wizti seemed to have found the backbone. He picked up a spear that could be seen everywhere from the corpse on the ground, and gathered together with five or six militiamen from the same village.

"I'm shouting the number, you all come with me and stab the leg in the center!"

"Uncle~lightnovelpub.net~ The center can't deal with the enemy and our people, how can you stab them?"

The young militia asked blankly.

"Don't talk nonsense! No matter who he is over there, he won't be able to hold on for long anyway, and he was stabbed to death by me!"

The face of the old militiaman Chiwako showed a rare grim look. he shouted angrily.

"One, two, three, thorns!"

Six or seven spears passed through the staggered legs, stabbing at the center at the same time. The two sides of the war suddenly fell several people, half Ottopan warriors, half Tarrasco militia. They clutched their legs and struggled, and then they were trampled on the soles of their feet by the crowd, and they were silent for a moment.

"One, two, stab again!"

Several people fell again, and both sides of the war stagnated slightly. Tarrasco's militia began to steer the Ottopan warriors from the first to the ladder.

"Stab! Stab again! Stab again!"

A series of shouts rang out, and new militiamen joined in. A dozen people crouched down, stabbing the warriors' unshielded legs and feet. This wound is not fatal, but it makes the wounded lose the ability to fight.

The Tarrasco militiamen continued to thrust their spears again, and the newly mounted warriors had to stop, half-squatting and shielding them from below. The Tarrasco warriors supported by the rear finally rushed to the head of the city and cooperated with the militia to drive the Ottopan warriors down.

"Hoo, hoo!"

Chiwaco, an old militiaman, slumped on the ground, still wearing a shield on his head. He smiled and was about to say something to the surrounding militiamen. A horrific rain of arrows struck again, and in the blink of an eye, several militiamen beside him were shot dead.

There was a "bang" on the head of the old militiaman, and his momentum led him directly to the ground in a pool of blood. After a while, he stretched out his blood-stained hands, touched the arrow on the shield, and muttered to himself.

"This kind of day, there is really no way to live..."