Chapter 847: The second kingdom exploration, gathering and parting, going to the fields to farm
"Stay here, take care of a village, and farm the land with peace of mind..."
Chihuaco, an old militiaman, opened his cloudy old eyes and looked at the scene in front of him. Under the bright firelight, there was a confident son, and further behind, there were farmland and villages at night. The scene at this moment
, just like in his dream when he was dozing off, the warmth was a little unreal.
"Stay here..."
The old militiaman pursed his lips and fell into sleep, letting his heart flutter for a while. But soon, he remembered his responsibilities and thought of the people on the voyage, living and dead...
The old militiaman was silent for a while, then gently shook his head under Chippawa's expectant eyes.
"No. I can't stay here...I have to go back, take the people in the fleet home, and bring back the news about Snake Island in the East China Sea!...I still have to report back to the blind...His Majesty..."
Hearing this, the confident expression of the wasteland warrior Chippawa suddenly froze on his face. He looked at his father blankly for a while, and suddenly became angry when he looked at his firm eyes.
"Dad! Why do you want to go back? Why do you want to serve the king of the Mexicans? Don't forget that it was the Mexicans who invaded us! It was they who destroyed the kingdom!"
"...The old kingdom was destroyed, but a new kingdom was established. Just like the old tree was cut down, and a new one grew up...higher, bigger, and with deeper roots..."
The old militiaman shook his head. Although his eyes were wet, his words were calm.
"The king of the kingdom now is His Highness the Mexica people, and he is also the king of the Prepecha people. After all, he has given the Prepecha people a stable life, increased the food production in the fields, and made the villagers live a better life.
It's much better... In the villages in the Lake District, farmers who have established households don't have to worry about famine and seeds, nor are they unable to eat or feed their newborn babies..."
"Not to mention, Prepecha's warriors, sages, and priests have long been loyal to him and followed him to conquer everywhere..."
"So... he asked me to go to sea... so I went. And what I encountered this time when I went to sea... was very important! I had to go back alive and report back to him..."
"Ah! How could... be like this? The king of the Prepecha people?..."
Hearing this, Chipawa, the wasteland warrior, gritted his teeth, with anger burning in his chest, but he didn't know who to talk to. After all, according to the battalion commander Zukata, and in his long-standing knowledge, the Prepecha people were
He should deeply hate the conquerors of Mexica, and long for the return of the royal family of Tarasco...
"Damn! How could this happen?..."
Chipawa lowered his head, grabbed a handful of dirt on the ground, and threw it into the fire again. The fire swayed violently, then returned to calm, just like the unchanging reality.
"Dad...then go back! Explain the matter...and then come back!"
Hearing this, the old militiaman smiled happily. Then, he lowered his head, looked at the calm firelight, and called out his son's name for the first time.
"Chipawa! I'm old...the old turtles of Prepecha should die in the lake where they were born. Together with your grandma..."
"What's more, there is your sister..."
"Damn it! Then bring my sister here too!"
The wasteland warrior Chippawa gritted his teeth and growled lowly, like a suppressed wolf.
"You are old...I will raise you! If you die...I will bury you!..."
"Wow! That's great!..."
The old militiaman opened his eyes wide and looked at his excited son with a happy smile on his face. He just smiled happily and watched Chippawa calm down before saying softly.
"Your sister...married a stable husband. Finally, she has a stable life. I just think about her being safe and stable, so that I can feel at ease..."
"The Patzcuaro Lake area of the Kingdom is very peaceful now, more stable than other places. But here, you are still fighting and migrating... not to mention, this is a thousand miles away, and the road is so chaotic..."
Having said this, the old militiaman shook his head again. He rubbed his hands and face, and wiped away the old tears from the corners of his eyes. Although he knew there was little hope, he still asked in a low voice.
"I was thinking, otherwise...you...come back to the kingdom with me?"
"What? Go back to the kingdom?! What's there?...Is there any fish to eat? Haha!"
Hearing this, Chipawa, the wasteland warrior, was startled and suddenly burst out laughing. Tears flowed from his eyes as he laughed.
"Dad! The kingdom has my past. But in the past, I was just a boy in the village! Timid, thin, bullied, and powerless... But what about here? I am a follower of Sister Alan, a brave warrior.
A tribal warrior, I am the captain of the elite centurion!… I am even the deputy to the commander of the Zukata Battalion, participating in the training and management of the Lance Battalion!…”
Chipawa, the wasteland warrior, raised his head and looked at the endless flat wasteland and the vast sky in the wasteland. After a while, he rubbed his cheek, pointed at the tattoos on his face, and said in a deep voice.
"Dad, I can't go back. I have carved the mark of the wilderness, and I belong here! This is the land and sky I want..."
The old militiaman Chihuaco was silent and nodded. The feeling in his heart at this moment was both sadness and joy, like sweet and sour fruit wine. However, his ability to drink has never been good, but this glass of new wine made him
I want to get drunk.
"Well... Chippawa, my baby... I am happy that you have made a career. You have your own path, which is different from me... I only ask you one thing..."
Having said this, the old militiaman raised his head and stared into Chippawa's eyes. The father and son looked at each other quietly until the tattooed son slowly nodded.
"Dad, just say it! I promise you..."
"Okay!... From now on, no matter what you encounter... you must work hard to live and survive. Likewise, if you can, you must let others live and give others a chance to live..."
"Me? Others?...alive?..."
The expression of Chipawa, the wasteland warrior, changed as he chewed on this heavy word. Although he didn't quite understand it at the moment, he still nodded vigorously.
This chapter is not over yet, please click on the next page to continue reading! "Okay! Dad, I promise you!"
"Okay! Wow! Wow! Wow!"
The old militiaman smiled again. He smiled, covered his old face, and turned around. The Chippawa on the opposite side also unanimously turned his back to here. The father and son were leaning against each other, back to back,
Just like when I was a kid.
At this moment, they couldn't see each other's faces, but they could feel the person behind them. This made their hearts feel lighter and more at ease.
The rivers of life will meet and are destined to separate. No matter whether they are closely connected or not, they will still walk on their own rivers and meet different river banks... until the final death, let them be quiet or sing, and merge into the endless
The deep sea, no matter who comes first or who comes last...
"Dad, when do you want to leave?"
"Try to be as fast as possible! I'm going to the southern coast, further south of the Silver Crow tribe..."
"To the southern coast?"
Hearing this, the wasteland warrior Chipawa thought for a moment and said in a deep voice.
"There is still a war on the southern coast! The tribes are conquering the Huastec tribes... If you want to go, I have to inform Sister Alan first. Then, I have to inform the chief in the south. It will take a lot of time to go back and forth.
, you can’t come in a hurry!…”
"Sister Alan?"
Hearing this name being mentioned repeatedly, the old militiaman pondered for a while and then asked.
"who is she?"
"She? She is the daughter of the great chief, the little chief of the north, and the heir to the Red Crow Tribe..."
Speaking of this, a longing smile appeared on the face of the wasteland warrior Chippawa.
"Dad! To me, she is our leader, my sister Alan! She is a powerful huntress, a powerful female warrior, and a powerful female chief! She is also...the moon in the sky."
"Oh...amazing!...The moon..."
The old militiaman lowered his head and leaned against his son behind him, as if feeling those complicated emotions. He pursed his lips, not knowing what to say. After all, he knew nothing about the Red Crow tribe.
"Well... the deer will run after the deer, and the wolf will bite after the wolf... just follow her, and do your best! And also... live well."
"Don't worry! Dad! Sister Alan is very good to me!"
The wasteland warrior Chippawa nodded vigorously and smiled happily. The old militiaman scratched his hair and asked again.
"Then...what are you...doing here now?"
"Oh! I took the soldiers and followed Sister Alan to conquer the northern grasslands. She gave me a new job. I took the newly conquered tribal warriors to migrate to the Huastec immigrants in the south, and then went to the Warrior Lake area to cultivate and build
The village...there are already 80,000 or 90,000 tribes there, all of whom are our people, and they are very prosperous. But the food is not enough..."
"Dad! From Otter City to the north, between the plateau and the sea, the seven to eight hundred miles of plains...are all ours now! Such a big piece of land, such big mountains, rivers and seas are all ours!...We are red
The Crow Tribe, with more than 200,000 people, is the most powerful tribe in the North!..."
The wilderness warrior Chipawa raised his head and declared proudly. The old militiaman's eyes flashed and he did not pay attention to his son's bold words after that, but only noticed the first few sentences.
"You said... you are migrating... farming... not enough food?"
"That's right! A small Huastec village like this one was established just in the past few years after people migrated from the south. There isn't much food left in the village, otherwise more people would be able to move in..."
"Farming...food..."
The old militiaman pondered for a while, then suddenly turned around and grabbed his son's hand.
“Chippawa!…”
"ah?"
"Daddy doesn't know how to... help you farm, but he still knows how to..."
The old militiaman looked serious, his expression was more serious than ever before. Seeing his father like this, Chippawa also became serious.
"father?"
"This time... I brought back some cassava stems from Quetzalcoatl's Snake Island... They are easy to grow and live well. They are not afraid of pests and their yields are frightening. But the skin is poisonous, very poisonous.
So when you eat it, you have to peel it and soak it in water first, and don’t store it for too long..."
"What? Cassava? Dad! What is that?"
"Well...it's good food, edible, high-yielding grain! It doesn't pick the ground at all, it just needs to be grown in a hotter place. But I feel it's quite hot here, so it should be able to grow...even if it's a little colder, that is
The harvest is small, but it is definitely more than corn and pumpkins, much more!…”
The old militiaman looked happy and said a lot in one breath. However, Chippawa's face was blank. Seeing this, the old militiaman slapped his thigh hard and pinched his son's arm hard.
"Are you listening? Do you understand?"
"Ah? Dad? What did you say?"
"I said…"
The old militiaman stretched out his hand, grabbed his son's ear after many years, and shouted loudly.