Swinging the sword to cut through the clouds and dreams

In the year 1469, the Aztec Empire in Central America was at its zenith. A soul from the future transgressed time to come here, intent on saving the fate of the Indian people from destruction and establishing an empire in Central America!

The Age of Exploration had just begun its prologue, with European colonizers venturing into the unknown world. Europeans were on the rise, intent on conquering the rich lands of America and colonizing the vast New World. They were poised to embark on an expansion that would take them from America, to Africa, to India, to the Far East, and control the world for the next five hundred years!

But now, an immortal spirit sought to change all of that. He would unite Central America under one rule, inherit the two-thousand-year legacy of American civilization, and resist the invasion of Western colonizers. He would spend centuries leading Aztec civilization onto the path of destiny to conquer America!

Without the land and wealth of America, what would become of the Westerners? And in which direction would the world turn?

Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!

The low longhouse was shrouded in silence, with only a faint stench of blood carried by the wind. Kakalo lay quietly on the ground, as if returning to the embrace of the Earth Mother Goddess. The mysterious words, like prophecy, weighed heavy on the hearts of the three men, leaving them unable to forget for a long time.


Bertade stepped forward two paces and reached out to check the old Priest's breath, then turned and shook his head.


Xiulote's expression was grave as he picked up the wooden plank from the ground. He looked at his own emblem and name, speechless for a long while. It was only after some time that he turned to Keka.


"Keka, did you hear the last words of the old Priest clearly?"


"Ah, respected God of Death, Great Chief!"


Chapter Three Hundred and Twenty-Three: Sending Troops