The breeze blew through the treetops, the pines and cypresses pulled out new branches, and the long grass became more and more prosperous, enough to cover the figure. The rains of early June arrived as expected, and the smoke from the burning rose and went out, leaving only a black ember.

In a field of ashes, thousands of Otomi mountain people are working hard, and large tracts of farmland have been sown. In order to guard against the attack of the dog descendants, the Ding Zhuangs all carried stone spears, and some people had long slings around their waists. On a nearby hill, a team of 20 Otomi warriors was stationed. The warriors wore gray-blue cotton armor, carried battle sticks, and hung a bone whistle for the police around their necks. They cautiously looked to the north, occasionally glanced at the cultivating mountain people, and looked at the fields full of vitality.

The Otomi mountain people leaned over and worked hard, breaking the soil with wooden and stone agricultural tools, and carefully sowing hope for a year. And when they rested for a while, the magnificent Ottopan Mountain City appeared at the end of the line of sight, standing in the sky far south. The ancestral land of the mountain city has existed for a long time, like the holy mountain where the gods live, entrusting the hearts of all mountain people.

Behind the mountain people, several babbling streams flowed down from the mountains, moisturizing the farmland along the way. And by the small lake where the stream joins, there is a large Otomi village. This is sixty miles north of Mount Ottopan, and it is also the northern point guarded by the samurai.

Fifty Mexica warriors with long bows and two hundred Otomi warriors with shields and sticks are now stationed together in the village's longhouse, with a fortified granary nearby. In the fire pond in the center of the village, there are also special firewood piled up. When the number of attacking Canines approached a thousand, the samurai lit firewood and summoned reinforcements from the mountain city. The three thousand-person battalions were stationed a dozen miles to the south, ready to attack at any time.

A figure swayed in the distant mountain forest, and the warrior on the hill immediately got up and looked around, putting the bone whistle to his mouth. Soon, a small team of Otomi scouts emerged from the forest, followed by hundreds of mountain people carrying food and farm implements. The samurai on both sides clenched their fists in greeting and breathed a sigh of relief. The scouts looked at the cultivated fields and continued to guide the newly arrived mountain people to the villages for resettlement.

Not long ago, the priests of the mountain city issued a divine decree: to evacuate the mountain residents on the northern border, take away all the food, and concentrate them on farming in the large villages around the mountain city. Then, under the **** of thousands of Otomi warriors, the priests who controlled the hearts of the people led north, and quickly evacuated the village of more than 300 people. As for the remaining small villages, the scout warriors will lead them.

The border evacuation has lasted for a month, and today's batch is estimated to be the last mountaineer. There are only a few dozen people in the remaining micro-villages, hiding in the mountains, making it difficult to find them. They won't have much food either, so it doesn't matter.

The mountain town of Ottopan is more than two hundred miles away from Palms State. After the plundering and large-scale shrinking of the canines, the northernmost land of more than 100 miles has been deserted. In the hundred miles near the mountain city, there are patrolling scouts, stationed warriors, and legions ready to attack at any time.

Spring ploughing is hard work, the sun just rises when you lean down, and the sun sets when you look up. After a long night of deep sleep, another boring day repeats. A new day seems no different. Song finches circled in the sky, seeing only the farmland that had been tilled. Oh, and the hidden eyes in the mountains.

Amoxi crouched in the grass, narrowed his eyes, and looked from a distance at the mountain people who lowered their heads to cultivate, as well as the crowded village not far away. He was wearing Mexica cotton armor and a yellow-green rattan hat that hid his red, prominent hair. His eyes stayed for a long time until another voice came from the grass.

"Amoshi, have you seen the Ortomi warriors on the hill? How many?"

"Two palms, two soles, exactly twenty people. The leader's hand is placed between his neck, and it is estimated that it is a whistle that will sound every time it is blown."

"Ow, these screeching dogs! It's not a good fight, but it's good to call people."

Ivican let out a "bah" and also came up. He looked greedily at the village in the distance, then looked at the thousands of mountain people who were farming, and then stared at the young woman who was barely clothed, and swallowed.

"Otomi's women are much better looking than the skinny bamboo poles in the tribe. This turkey-like body looks good at first sight! Amoxi, such a big village, we have enough food and women. Can we fight? "

"Ivican, don't worry, let me take a look. We follow the Otomi scouts all the way, and we always have to see where they hide the food. What the girls have is that food is the lifeblood of the tribe! "

Amoxi watched carefully, his eyes stopped for a while on the spears carried by the mountaineers, and then he reached out and pointed in the direction of the village.

"Come on, let's go to the village and take a look."

The two red-haired warriors climbed up from the grass, as agile as lynx, without making any movement. Behind them, more than twenty tribal warriors also climbed up, each hunched like a hound. They carefully bypassed the cultivated fields, and came to the back of the village again, continuing to peep.

Not far away, a shallow circle of wooden fences surrounded the village, leaving only the north and south exits. There is a high stone house in the center of the village, and some villagers are going in and out to prepare a special lunch for the samurai masters. Ordinary mountain people are not so lucky, they only have two meals a day, morning and evening.

Soon, the faint smoke from the cooking rose, and the fragrance of corn wafted far away. A large group of warriors walked out of the longhouse, all carrying weapons, chatting and laughing while sitting around the fire pit to eat.

"Grey-blue cotton armor, one slap, two slaps... Well, an Otomi native dog with eight palms."

Amoxi used his hands and borrowed Ivican's palm, and finally counted the number of two hundred with difficulty. Then, he continued to move his eyes and looked at the Mexica warrior at the center, his pupils contracted suddenly.

"Damn, white-gold cotton armor with nails, rattan wood helm, and big bow! It's a thick-skinned warrior from the Mexica, with ten hands!"

"What? Mexican pachyderm?! Where?...Ow!"

Ivican paled in shock. He followed Amoxi's fingers and couldn't help but let out a low bark. The samurai in the center of the village suddenly became alert and got up to look here. The canine scouts crouched low in the grass, motionless. After a long while, the warriors resumed their noise and continued to eat.

Amoxi breathed a sigh of relief, then lowered his voice and cursed.

"Damn, Ivican, keep your mouth shut!"

"What are you afraid of, Amoxi, no one can run us! Even a big bow can't shoot at this distance."

Ivican replied with a smile. He didn't care too much about the danger, but kept his voice down as well.

"It's really blind, there are fifty thick-skinned warriors! In the southern cactus tribe, where did so many thick-skins come from? The last time I fought with them, I shot a thick-skinned dozen arrows and shot him and the hedgehog. It's the same, but it's still alive and kicking, nothing at all!"

"Ivican, thick-skinned warriors can't shoot through the cotton armor, no matter how close! You're going to shoot their bare necks, their calves and feet, or melee hammer their heads. Of course. , These thick skins are elites, they will deliberately cover their vital points, and they are also very tough in melee combat, which is really tricky!"

Amoxi shook his head and continued to watch with a frown.

Soon, Ivican widened his eyes and looked at the granary where the villagers were entering and leaving.

"Food, a lot of food! Amoshi, there are a hundred senior redheads and five hundred tribal warriors in the tribal brigade behind me! How many people are behind you?"

"There are fifty red hairs and three hundred warriors behind me. I can't compare with your 'Red Fox' tribe."

"One hundred and five redheads, eight hundred warriors, there are only two hundred and five on the other side... Ow, enough! Fight or not?"

"Fuck!"

Amoxi gave a fierce "bah" and turned his head to glare at his friend.

"Otomi native dogs were not easy to fight when they were defending. Now there are warriors from the cactus tribe. They are just like dogs with owners. They are very tough and won't surrender even if they are killed!"

"Look at the terrain of this village again? The houses are blocked, the roads are narrow, the soldiers can't spread out at all, and they can't exert their numerical superiority. The enemy still has a big bow to defend, and if you hit it, you will die! When we rush to the fence, the thick Pi can shoot three rounds of the big bow; break the fence and go in, and two more rounds of arrows. After two more rounds, the warriors will collapse. This village can't be fought!"

"Well, it seems reasonable. Amoxi, your brain is indeed bright, and you are more like a member of our Red Fox tribe."

Ivican thought for a while, then looked at the mountain people who were farming in the fields.

"Or let the soldiers rush these mountain people? Kill them, lure the defenders out, or grab a few good-looking girls?"

"Grab a fart!"

Amoxi stretched out his hand and hammered Ivican on the shoulder.

"What's the use of killing some grass-like mountain people? The grain is in the granary, and the village can't be beaten. Everything is for nothing. If you stay here for a long time, the brigade of samurai in the south will bite. The Tomi, then the Mexica warriors in dark green cotton armor, and finally the thick hides that can't be beaten at all."

"By the way, the last time I went to the south, I also encountered a few ferocious tiger heads. They should be the guards of the great chiefs, the senior redheads of the cactus tribe. They are wearing thick skins and tiger heads, and they are very good at tracking. , chased me all the way for fifty miles! No matter how the scout team changed direction, they couldn't get rid of anyone. I broke up several brothers and retreated all the way to the northern border. When I contacted other tribes and attacked, they quietly disappeared. "

"Ferocious tiger head?"

Ivican frowned and muttered to himself.

"I seem to have heard the chief say, what kind of eagle warriors, jaguar warriors are there in the cactus tribe... They are also thick-skinned?"

"Thick-skinned like a bear. Don't think about it, Ivican. The warriors of my tribe are all gathered here. If they were damaged indiscriminately and they didn't grab food, the chiefs and priests would have sacrificed me alive! This village beat me to death! Don't come down~lightnovelpub.net~We still..."

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!"

Three sharp feather arrows with a whistling, suddenly shot from a distance, brushing the heads of the canine scouts. The two red-haired warriors were startled and looked around, only to see that at some point, several thick-skinned warriors had brought dozens of Otomi dogs and quietly surrounded them from the side.

"Damn it, Ivican, it's all your barking!"

"Ow! Amoxi, stop scolding. Since you can't fight, save some strength and hurry up and run north! We have to inform the team behind!"

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!"

A bark came again, followed by a loud curse, and a whistling arrow. The two red-haired warriors lowered their bodies like hounds on the run, and they escaped the range of the bow and arrow in a blink of an eye. More than a dozen canine scouts followed closely without stopping.

Chased by hundreds of allied warriors, the canines ran all the way. In the tense place, the dog barked again, blood spilled into the mountains and forests, soaking in the fields of hope.

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