The golden sunlight slanted westward, illuminating the bright red battlefield. The earth was soaked with warmth, and the scent of blood drifted in the wind. Among the vibrant green grass lay tricolored feathers, patterned leather armors, broken long spears, shimmering stone flakes, diagonally inserted feathered arrows, scattered banners... and countless fallen bodies. From a distance, the red battlefield blurred the cruelty, making it seem like a field of flowers blooming in the spring of life's cycles.
In this spring meadow, tens of thousands of Mexica warriors raised their hands in unison, issuing a victorious cheer. Golden copper spears flickered on the ground, and black war clubs glinted under the sky. Sleek greatbows were tilted upward, and smoking thunderbolts shot straight to the ground. These powerful wild oaths deeply etched themselves in the memory of the veteran militiaman Chiwaco, causing him to shudder involuntarily.
