Chapter 227 Goodbye

The vast night wind, rising from the campfire, fused into the limitless, dark sky. It soared towards the northwest, passing over the Mexica camp where singing lasted through the night, crossing the silent expanse of wilderness, until it reached the cold, solemn plains of the Lake Region.

The night was deep, the night was slowly brightening. Desolate villages scattered across the fields, where the occasional sparkle of torches flickered dimly between them, snuffed out one by one in the night wind. And on the far horizon, faint glimmers of light began to emerge once more, outlining the shadow of a grand city.

The old militiaman Chiwaco, holding a long spear, stood in front of an abandoned house. He stared blankly at the brightening sky for a while, then silently eyed the Capital City on the horizon, sighed with a mind full of thoughts, and turned to enter the dwelling.