The door of the dilapidated hut was wide open, and everyone in the captured fleet looked panic-stricken. The ferocious dog-born warriors strode in with axes and spears in their hands. The head tattooed leader had a ruthless face, and the corners of his mouth raised ferociously.

"Blind God! This is? This is! . . . "

Chihuaco, an old militiaman, was terrified and looked at the dog descendants who rushed in. Although he couldn't understand the conversation outside the house, but seeing the murderous posture, he could feel full of malice and a strong ominous atmosphere. He gritted his teeth hard, his nails dug into his flesh, stood at the forefront of everyone in the fleet, and spoke carefully in Mexica.

"Dear wasteland leader...we are friends from the kingdom of the lake..."

"Kneel down!"

The young tattooed leader gave a loud roar, and the influx of dogborn warriors swung their spears, knocking everyone in the house to the ground. The pained cries of the crew and the howling of the dog-born echoed in the hut instantly. Seeing this chaotic scene, the leader of the tattooed face laughed heartily. He laughed for a while, then showed his ruthlessness again, and asked sharply in Guajili.

"You guys, who is the leader?"

"Friends! Friends! We are friends!  …"

Chihuaco, an old militiaman, stood at the forefront of the crowd and was forcibly pushed to the ground by two dog descendants. He struggled and yelled.

"Lord God! This is a misunderstanding! We are friends from afar! We have no malicious intentions!..."

"Ha! Friends? You Mexica, what kind of friends are you!"

Hearing this, the young tattooed leader showed hatred and sneered. He understands Mexica, but only answers in fluent Guajili.

"You are the enemy! I ran hundreds of miles here just to send the enemy to their deaths! Haha! I want to repay you all the pain I suffered from losing everything!"

"Lord God! This must be a misunderstanding!...This is our first time here..."

"Haha! Leader of the Mexica, you have been abandoned by your main god, don't struggle anymore!"

The young tattooed leader strode forward and squatted in front of the old militiamen. He grabbed the other person's hair, looked at the disheveled, tanned old face, and laughed grimly.

"Haha! As the leader, you are very lucky! You will stay until the end, so you can watch carefully! Watch me kill all of you one by one, and screw off your heads one by one..."

"No! Don't! Friends! We can discuss, discuss well..."

Chihuaco, an old militiaman, looked anxious. He didn't know that something went wrong, why all of them suddenly ended up like this. But at this critical juncture, he bowed down again, showing a humble figure like a villager.

"Master! Mighty samurai master! We can give you everything on the boat!... We are just fish in the lake, very small, and there is no threat... Please! Let us go!"

"Ha! Fish? I love fish the most!...Haha! Huh?"

While talking, the young tattooed leader suddenly paused. Inexplicably, he felt that this sentence was so familiar.

"Huh? This voice, this word...I seem to have heard it somewhere..."

Thinking of this, he narrowed his eyes and stared carefully at the gray old face of the old militiaman with dangerous eyes.

"Keep your head up!"

"My lord warrior! Spare us!"

The old militiamen stammered, and after many years, they regained their survival instincts. It was the era of the Tarasco Kingdom, and the villagers were powerless and the only way.

"Master! We can farm for you! Yes, I am a good farmer, we are all..."

"..."

Seeing this inexplicably familiar cowering expression, the young tattooed leader froze in place and did not speak. He was stunned for a long time, as if he had encountered something completely unbelievable.

"Impossible...how is it possible?...This is absolutely impossible!"

"Honorable Lord Samurai..."

The old militiaman cringed and humbled. He's still struggling, trying to hold on to his last hope.

"Please, save our lives..."

The young tattooed leader was silent for a while, then suddenly asked quickly in Prepecha language.

"You... Tarasco? Not Mexica?"

"Huh? Tarasco?"

Hearing this familiar accent, the old militiaman Chihuaco was also startled. But he reacted quickly, and immediately replied carefully.

"We... are all Prepecha people from the Kingdom of the Lake, serving His Majesty from the Mexica Alliance... This is our first time here, and we have never offended your tribe!..."

"The people of Prepecha..."

Hearing this, the young tattooed leader shook his head, as if recalling a long time ago. However, he is not very old, and he does not know when this long memory is. After a while, he asked softly in Prepecha with a trembling voice.

"You...your hometown...is a small village on the west side of Lake Patzcuaro. There are two rags and a red cicada at the entrance of the village?"

"…Ah You!…"

Hearing this, the old militiaman suddenly raised his head and stared blankly at the other party. He cautiously looked at the tattooed leader in front of him, at the red tattooed face covering his face, at the thick and powerful body, and at the straight red hair. And the young tattooed leader also opened his eyes wide, looking at his wrinkled, tanned, dark and red old face.

"Who are you…"

The old militiaman hesitated for a while~lightnovelpub.net~ before looking into the excited eyes of the other party, and asked uncertainly.

"You...are from Prepeca too? Have you been to Lake Patzcuaro, to my hometown?"

Hearing this, the young tattooed leader was shocked. He stretched out his hand tremblingly, wiped the dust off the old militiaman's face, and stared fixedly at his face. Then, with trembling fingers, he asked in anticipation and fear.

"You...you have a son, a daughter. The son was confiscated, and went to the front line where the Mexica fought..."

"Ah! You! How do you know, who are you?"

The old militiaman trembled all over, like a fish that had been electrified, and suddenly straightened his back. He grabbed the arm of the tattooed leader and asked excitedly.

"Could it be? Could it be!"

"...Uh-huh!"

The young tattooed leader suppressed his excitement and nodded vigorously.

"Have you seen my son?! Is he still alive?!"

"..."

The young tattooed leader was silent for a moment, stretched out his hand, and wiped his face vigorously. However, the terrifying tattoo on his face symbolizes the courage of the wasteland warrior to abandon everything when he becomes an adult, and has already merged with his appearance and can no longer be separated.

"He...he...me!...you..."

"Ah? Me?...You?...You?!"

The two looked at each other tremblingly, neither of them could say a complete sentence, but they could somehow understand each other's intentions. There was a sudden silence in the hut, only the trembling eyes of the two remained, as if a flame had been ignited.

"ah!"

The dog-born leader with the tattooed face trembled for a moment, unable to bear the surging emotions in his heart any longer. He rushed forward, kneeling heavily on the ground. Then, with tears in his eyes, he hugged the old militiaman's face tightly, gritted his teeth fiercely, and let out a loud roar.

"father!

! "