The setting sun cast its glow on the vast sea of trees, with clouds tinged in rosy twilight undulating like waves. The sky was as clean as a still lake, with a single wisp of cooking smoke rising faintly.
Beneath the smoke lay a rudimentary settlement, scattered with huts constructed of branches and tall grass. Dozens of tribespeople, clad in leather skirts, gathered around the central fire pit. They cooked, laughed, chatted, and played. The air soon carried the aroma of corn, wild vegetables, and the meat of some unidentifiable animal.
Twelve-year-old Xiulote stood deep in the forest, gazing somewhat bewilderedly at the distant settlement.
He had a handsome face, with black hair, black eyes, and yellow skin, and a clean little face. Atop his head he wore a conical cap, wrapped in an all-encompassing dark green cloak. Around his waist, he tied a brown loincloth that hung down just enough to cover his privates, and on his feet were soft deer leather shoes.
In his right hand, he held an obsidian dagger a foot long, and his left hand was bound with a small shield that was large enough to cover his diminutive body. The most eye-catching feature was a specially made obsidian necklace that dangled from his neck down to his chest, a symbol of important status.
Xiulote glanced ahead, seeing a group of fierce, strong warriors barely visible in the shadows of the trees.
The warriors wore green leather armor, outlining their muscular frames. The cuffs of their sleeves and pant legs were dyed red, and they were all in the same undergarments and pointed leather caps. Most were barefooted, with a rope tied around their waists, with a leather wooden shield in their left hand, about half a meter in size, engraved with fearsome patterns. In their right hands, they held obsidian-tipped wooden staves over a meter long, with their sharp inserts already removed.
At this moment, the warriors were crouched and silent, like beasts in the jungle, their eyes gleaming with danger and excitement.
Perhaps sensing Xiulote's gaze, two warriors stood up and walked over silently. The leading warrior was in his thirties or forties, exceptionally muscular. His face was painted with red and green stripes, and he wore a fearsome tiger helmet. Bright feathers hung from the back of his helmet, draping over a spotted yellow leather armor, making him resemble an upright walking beast.
This was the empire's elite, the leader of a 20-person squadron, a Jaguar nobility warrior.
The Jaguar warrior approached Xiulote, "Xiulote, we are about to attack. This is your first battle, so you don't need to in the charge. You stand on the periphery, and if you see any wild people escaping, tell Ters. If you see a suitable opponent, you can also move in, but use your shield and dagger well."
"Remember, you don't need to capture prisoners, don't hold back!"
Having said this, he turned his head to instruct a young warrior beside him, "Ters, take good care of Xiulote, and don't let him face the wrong opponent. If he can handle it, don't intervene. Let him get a taste of blood for the first time. I will bring you two prisoners."
Finally, the Jaguar warrior nodded at Xiulote. He grinned, showing teeth glinting in the light, then silently left again.
The young warrior beside Xiulote was about twenty years old. He crouched down beside Xiulote with some dismay, "Xiulote, I will be right by your side. Later, you can pick out a lone little wild person or an old one..."
"Ters, why are we attacking these tribespeople? They haven't harmed us," Xiulote's eyes filled with confusion as the "past" memories still swirled in his mind. Though beginning to blur, values from centuries later stubbornly persisted in his heart, in this cruel jungle era.
"Why?" Ters scratched his head, "Because the new Tratuoani has just ascended to the throne, and we need more sacrifices for the coronation ceremony."
"Then why do we need to spend so many lives on a sacrificial rite?"
"Because it's the gods' preference..."
Just then, a clear eagle cry rang out, followed by dozens of figures rushing out of the dense jungle.
The warriors let out terrible howls as they surrounded the settlement from all directions. A "Jaguar" led the charge, its striped pelt dancing wildly, while the heavy obsidian stave moved like flashing lightning.
He deftly slapped and knocked a young savage unconscious to the ground. Then, with a backhand strike to another's waist, the man immediately fell to the ground, writhing in pain. The other Samurai were also continuously achieving victories. Even though the tribe's numbers were four to five times that of the Samurai, the battle was lopsided.
The short spears hastily raised by the tribal warriors were skillfully dodged by the Samurai, leaving shallow scratches on their leather armor. In contrast, the counterstrikes with clubs were powerful and forceful, knocking down the tribespeople in a single blow.
A few tribal hunters began to resist, shooting their crude hunting bows and sending homemade short arrows into the Samurai's leather armor. This was the last effective resistance—the hunters were quickly prioritized and taken down by the Samurai who were drawn to them.
What followed was a one-sided chase and capture; the tribespeople scattered in all directions, fleeing for their lives while the Samurai either pursued them or took out ropes to tie up the captives that satisfied them. A Samurai began to toss the fire from the hearth toward the thatched huts, and soon both the flames and cries filled the evening sky.
"Let's go," Ters urged from behind. Xiulote, however, was transfixed by the tribal fire, with shadows flickering before his eyes and cries and laughter seeming both distant and close. Suddenly, a slender figure darted towards him from the front, their running accompanied by heavy panting, heading straight for Xiulote.
"Be careful!" a worried shout came from behind. The figure in the front had also spotted Xiulote and thrust a sharp wooden spear directly at his small foe.
Xiolote's vision blurred momentarily; instinctively, his left hand raised the shield, and the wooden spear grazed against the thick hide and slid aside. Two years of rigorous training had ingrained the movements into his muscles like flowing clouds and water. Xiulote then stepped forward, and his right hand followed with a thrust, plunging the dagger deep into a soft object as a wet warmth quickly spread across his small palm.
The figure in front hesitated, the wooden spear weakly striking the shield again, and then a second time, with rapidly diminishing force.
Only then did Xiulote see the person before him—a disheveled teenager. He was extremely thin, clearly suffering from long-term malnutrition. Merely fifteen or sixteen, his eyes filled with hatred stared intently at Xiulote.
Soon, the teenager's pupils began to dilate, and his body went limp, sliding down from the dagger and collapsing helplessly in front of Xiulote. His lifeless eyes were still fixed on Xiulote.
Xiulote felt as if he had been struck. He staggered backward, the dagger slipping from his right hand to the ground as his knees suddenly buckled. At that moment, a pair of large hands reached from behind and steadily supported the young man's shoulders.
"Well done," Ters said with a smile, "The shield block and the thrust were very skilled. It seems the captain and the squad leader did a good job with the training."
"I've killed someone, an innocent person..." Xiulote trembled slightly, his eyes losing focus as he murmured softly. Reality had ripped through the peaceful past, as if awakening him from a deep dream. This was the first time in this life or the last that he had killed a person.
"What do you mean, why? Battle is the greatest honor, the greatest joy. Of course, sacrificial rites too. We'll capture more sacrifices, and then we can look forward to this year's coronation ceremony. I'm really looking forward to it." Ters smiled innocently, his eyes shining with joy.
"Blood... Death... Is it destined to be this way?..."
"Xiulote, what are you saying? Speak up, I can't hear you clearly." Ters scratched his head.
"Never mind, it's normal to feel a bit dizzy the first time. I felt the same way during my first time, although you're a bit younger. Oh, it looks like the captain has finished over there; let's hurry over." Ters picked up the dagger and tucked it into Xiulote's waist. Then, he half-dragged the young man towards Jaguar.
Behind them, the body of a young boy lay askew on the ground, his eyes lifelessly staring at the sky. As the sunset faded, darkness swiftly swallowed him in the savage and wild American woods.