Chapter 181: Fortress Siege, Corpses Rain Down, Part 2

With an unusually sharp conch shell, warriors and militiamen on every wall suddenly half-leaned out and fiercely shot arrows of death. They half-pulled the new longbow, shooting sharp copper arrows, piercing the cotton armor of the running warriors. They fully pulled the traditional single wooden bow, releasing sharp bone arrows, piercing the heads and faces of the stagnant warriors.

Giova under the city held up his shield and looked up. Then, his pupils shrank, and his body subconsciously squatted down, raising the shield over his head. Thousands of Tarasco archers shot arrows at the same time, and a wave of deadly arrows suddenly shot out from the top of the city, whistling through the air. The shield in Giova's hand kept ringing, and then there was a noticeable tingling in his shoulder, obviously he had been shot. Several guards beside him rolled on the ground like gourds, screaming and covering their heads and faces, and struggling to be shot like hedgehogs.

Almost at the same time, hundreds of Tarasco militiamen half-stood up and shouted. They raised their arms, took aim, and threw pointed wooden spears as long as their arms and round stones as big as fists under the city wall. The wooden spears were high above, accompanied by the dull sound of the wind, and penetrated the warriors' bodies mercilessly, pinning them to the ground. The heavy stones kept accelerating, and with irresistible force, they slammed into the warriors' leather helmets, knocking them down with the helmets.

Giova crouched on the ground, hiding his body directly behind the big shield, and no longer cared to watch the battle. The violent collision sounded "bang bang", and the screams of the guards were endless, and then quickly weakened. In the siege at this moment, the leather armor on his body seemed so weak. Even for a strong warrior, death can come at any time, and withering is just a moment.

Not far away, Shulot did not blink for a moment, and saw more clearly. This wave of long-prepared volleys cleared a blank in an instant, nailing hundreds of Otomi warriors to death!

The young commander waved his flag quickly, and the same sharp conch horn sounded, and more than a thousand Mexican archers also shot arrows at the top of the city. Feather arrows and crossbow arrows were like a surging torrent, and in a moment they knocked down the weeds on the top of the city.

A sturdy Tarasco warrior held a longbow with a fierce look on his face. At a distance of forty steps, he accurately shot an arrow into the cheek of the Ottopan warrior, and then became the target of the archers under the city. The sturdy warrior was about to put the arrow again, but his action suddenly stopped, and then he let go of his hand weakly, letting the bronze arrow fall.

A bone arrow penetrated his unprotected chin, accompanied by a "puff" sound from the flesh and blood, and slanted through his mouth. Unbearable pain came instantly, and the warrior did not die immediately, and was still trying in vain to open his mouth. Then, another crossbow arrow whistled and pierced the warrior's chest. He knelt down instantly, his hands still struggling to death. It was not until an extremely accurate arrow pierced his eye and penetrated two inches that he finally got his final relief and fell backwards on the top of the city wall.

Four or five Tarasco militia archers were very close. They were wearing cloth clothes, and at the same time squeezed into the narrow gap between shields to shoot arrows, shouting to shoot down the enemy. More than 20 feather arrows came with the shouting, most of which were blocked by shields, bringing a continuous "bang bang" sound of hitting.

Only four or five long arrows penetrated from different gaps and then penetrated the weak body without stopping. The long arrows at close range were powerful and were not blocked by cloth clothes and flesh and blood. They passed through the body directly, "chi chi" stringing the militia together, and the blood immediately blended. The militia screamed in pain and struggled hard, but they could not separate. They just tore the wounds, shed more bright red, and then solidified into a group of static sculptures.

There were also brave Tarasco militias who raised their right arms and threw powerful short spears. As soon as the short spear was thrown, the powerful crossbow arrow hit his exposed chest, and he fell to the bottom of the city wall without saying a word. In the last moment of his life, he only saw his short spear hit the target and pierced an Ottopan warrior who was rushing forward. The opponent staggered two steps and then fell headfirst, his face buried in the mud. Then, the brave militia also fell into the dust, two steps away from the warrior who fell to the ground with the spear, head facing head, and died silently together.

Xiuluot had no expression on his face and nodded slightly. The shooting Tarasco people could not cover completely, and this wave of close-range arrow rain also took away nearly a hundred defenders. The projectile firepower on the top of the city was stagnant, and the archers hid again. They shot intermittently at the bottom of the city from the gap between the wooden signs and the earthen platform, and their accuracy was greatly weakened.

The fierce drumbeats never stopped, and the Ottopan warriors roared and charged, and finally came to the top of the city. A dozen warriors desperately set up a heavy wooden ladder and put it on the bluestone wall. They could climb the city.

The Tarasco people on the top of the city wall poked their heads out again. Under the strong urging of the warriors supervising the battle, the militia suddenly threw pottery jars of different sizes, and then threw down heavy wood and stones. The pottery jars fell on the top of the city wall, exploded suddenly, and emitted a gray powder. The Ottopan warriors under the city wall burst into a scream that was not like a human voice, and then covered their eyes with their hands and rolled on the ground in pain. This is the raw and slaked lime commonly seen in volcanic areas, which has been used in construction and agricultural production for many years.

The warriors under the city wall could not see anything, loosened their palms, and ran around in a daze. The wooden ladder tilted and fell to the ground, directly crushing the two warriors. The wood and stones on the top of the city wall also fell "boom", smashing several warriors into a ball on the ground, and the ground was soon dyed red and gray.

Witnessing this tragic scene, the archers nearby quickly adjusted and began to shoot the militiamen who threw pottery jars first. On the city wall, a Tarasco militiaman shouted the name of God fanatically, raised the pottery jar in his hand, and was about to smash it down. Several feather arrows came "swoosh" and shot him from top to bottom. The militiaman leaned back suddenly, and could no longer lift the pottery jar filled with lime, and the pottery jar slid down silently.

Behind him, several militiamen from the same village were so scared that their faces turned pale, and they pushed hard from behind without hesitation. The fanatical militiamen fell from a height of six meters with the falling pottery jar, and then "banged" on the ground, bringing out a canopy of scattered white mist. The shrill screams rang out under the city, but they were several Ottopan warriors who were suddenly blinded.

The militiamen on the city just breathed a sigh of relief, and the whistling feather arrows attacked again, nailing most of the militiamen directly to death, and only one person escaped by chance. The militiamen who escaped were terrified and lay motionless in a pool of blood on the top of the city wall, unwilling to stand up to defend the city. The warrior supervising the battle saw this gap and waved his bronze spear to drive the next batch of militiamen to the city wall. Then, he ordered without hesitation to throw the last militiaman and the corpse of his fellow villagers down the city wall. Soon, the last screams were heard under the city wall.

The archers on the earth platform and shield car suppressed strongly, and the archers on the nest car cleared the points. Soon, there were several more chaotic sections of the city wall on the left side of the south city. Hundreds of Ottopan warriors finally set up the wooden ladders and climbed up from these chaotic gaps. In just a dozen breaths, dozens of warriors climbed to the top of the city wall and shouted excitedly. They waved their shields to resist the stabbing bronze spears, and then hit the war sticks and fought with the large group of Tarasco militiamen.

Xiuluot's eyes lit up and his face showed expectation. He waved the flag, and the tall and strong temple guards lined up, ready to go to support at any time. Then, the crossbowmen on the high platform received orders one after another and concentrated their fire on both sides of the walls, killing a group of militiamen.

On the top of the wall, a Tarasco militiaman was suddenly shot in the head and died on his back, with the Tlaxcala wooden bow in his hand falling to the side. Two steps away, the young militiaman Vesti's eyes were red, and he was about to reach out for the wooden bow. Then, with a "bang", he was hit hard on the forehead, abruptly interrupting his action.

"Stupid wood! Don't take the wooden bow, you will die if you take it!"

The accent of his hometown came from behind Vesti, awakening him from the impulse of fighting. The young militiaman squatted and turned around, and saw the familiar old militiaman Chihuaco. The old militiaman also squatted, pushing a chest-sized stone in his hand. He had a thick wooden shield on his head, and tied it tightly to his chin with a sisal rope, just like a river turtle with a shell.

"Uncle, where did you get this shield? Isn't there a master's helmet over there?"

Vezti shook his dizzy head and looked carefully at Chihuaco's appearance. Last time, the old militia led them all the way out of the battlefield, rowed for three days, and returned to the fortress before the marshal. From then on, the old militia was promoted to the leader in everyone's mind, a convincing uncle.

The sound of fierce fighting was floating in the sky, and the "swoosh" arrows passed through the top of the head. Chihuaco shuddered, looked around, and didn't see the warrior master. He whispered.

"Don't wear the master's helmet or the master's leather armor. The Mexica will shoot at that outfit! You go find a shield, or find a pottery jar on your head. Then squat down with me and push the stone down!"

Vezti vaguely understood something. He bent down, found an empty pottery jar and put it on his head, and then pushed the stone with the old militia.

Soon, the supporting warriors climbed up to the top of the city with their spears in hand, looking nervous. They hurried past and rushed to the wall on the river side, shouting to drive away the militia along the way. The arrows whistling from the city also shot straight at the top of the city, knocking down teams of defenders from time to time.

Chivaco held the stone in his hand and looked around carefully.

He looked at the fierce fighting not far away. Dozens of lean warriors kept rushing to the top of the city and fighting with the supporting masters. From time to time, someone cried out and fell to the ground, either falling outside the city or falling inside the city. There was like a fire for cooking soup, and the masters on both sides were like firewood thrown in, constantly boiling the top of the city, making blood splash like boiling soup.

The old militia shuddered again. He took out the blood-stained herbal bag and took two sips. The smell of the medicine bag became lighter and lighter, but the smell of blood was much more. But somehow, this action made him calm down.

When the old militiaman came to his senses, he saw that Vesti had already taken a step ahead of him and was about to push the big stone off the city wall. He was so angry that he grabbed the young militiaman's pants and pulled him to the ground.

"Vezti, come back here! Are you stupid?! Do you really want to throw this big stone down? Open your eyes and look, this is the only big one nearby. After pushing it down, the masters will force you to shoot arrows and throw spears. Push it back for me!"

The young militiaman was stunned. He looked around, there was a fight all around, the masters hurried past, and no one cared about this place. Then, he obediently pushed the big stone back, and together with the old militiaman, he made a squatting and pushing stone action.

"Uncle, the Mexica people are very fierce today, do you think we can hold on?"

In the fierce fighting on the top of the city, the old militia squatted and pretended to look at the surrounding situation. He answered casually.

"The young masters who are coming up now are all new. The hundreds of old masters behind them have not come up yet and are waiting under the city wall. In today's situation, we estimate that we can hold on. But looking at the fierce momentum of the Mexica, I'm afraid we won't be able to hold on for long!"

At this point, the old militia sighed and muttered to himself.

"Why can't the rocket I picked up turn into a fire demon? Otherwise, I can ask the noble masters for a job guarding the water gate, so that I can survive at the critical moment!"

Soon after returning from the last time, a noble master came down and reorganized the militia. The old militiaman Chihuaco took the opportunity to present the rocket he picked up.

The masters were overjoyed and took the rocket to study it repeatedly, disassembled the round paper shell in the middle, and identified the charcoal powder and the "Stone of the Dead" inside. Then, the masters dried the damp powder and carefully ignited it. As a result, this thing was actually no different from ordinary charcoal powder. It was just burned normally, making very choking smoke, but there was no sudden burst of fire.

Chihuaco couldn't figure it out, and the masters didn't figure it out either, so the promised reward was gone. The old militiaman was only promoted to a militia captain, in charge of a dozen militiamen, and then thrown to the most intense southern city wall, becoming a group of firewood. After more than ten days, almost all of his militiamen were dead, and now there are only a few obedient fellow villagers, lurking on the city wall together.

The old militiaman was thinking carefully, but in the "swoosh" rain of arrows, he heard Wezti's terrified call.

"Uncle, uncle! The Mexica are coming up!"

Chihuaco shuddered and looked forward. At some point, another group of lean warriors came forward, picked up the fallen wooden ladder on the ground, and put it on the city wall again. As the warriors moved, the rain of arrows behind them passed through the city wall first, passed through his back, and directly shot several militiamen behind him to death.

The old militiaman's hands and feet were cold and his face was pale. In a critical moment, he showed unimaginable agility, crawling backwards with his hands and legs, shouting "I'll get the stone, everyone hurry up and smash it down!"

Wezti was the first to push the big stone down, smashing an Ottopan warrior into the mud. The wooden ladder under the city shook and then reached the top of the city again.

The militia behind rushed forward and threw a short spear at the wooden ladder, and then was knocked down by the crossbow arrow with a "whoosh". Another militia quickly picked up the wooden bow on the ground, shot down suddenly, and shot a warrior to death. A moment later, a feather arrow came accurately, pierced his throat, and the tip of the arrow came out of his neck.

Wezti trembled in his heart and crawled to get the stone. Several warriors who were supervising the battle in the back rushed forward, kicked and beat the militia to the front, and then personally held the spear to suppress the battle. The wooden ladder was finally stable on the top of the city, and the copper hook hooked the city wall. Two militiamen tried to push him down, but they were only pierced into a gourd by an arrow. Then, a dozen Otomipan warriors climbed the city like nimble monkeys with a stern murderous intention.

The current warrior rushed forward and pushed the militiamen back several steps. Then, a dozen warriors climbed up, waving sharp-edged war sticks, cutting the fragile bodies of the militiamen. A dozen bronze spears stabbed, but were accurately blocked by the opponent's shields. Years of martial arts were like instinct. The Tarasco warriors in the back led the charge, and the militiamen followed. The spears and war sticks fought together, and both sides fell down.

A kneeling corpse suddenly moved, and the old militiaman Chihuaco poked his head out from behind and quickly looked at the situation. He looked at the enemy warriors gathering more and more, and then looked at his own militiamen who were constantly being killed, and his heart was cold. If this goes on, even if the subsequent reinforcements arrive and can drive the enemies on the top of the city down, he won't be able to hold on until that time!

Chivaco tried his best to think, and was stunned for a moment, then shouted loudly to the people around him.

"Wooden men, come here with your spears and squat beside me!"

Hearing the familiar voice, Vesti seemed to have found his backbone. He picked up a spear that was everywhere from the corpse on the ground, and came over with five or six militiamen from the same village.

"I'll shout the slogan, you all follow me, stab the legs in the center!"

"Uncle, how can we stab the enemy and our people in the center?"

The young militiaman asked blankly.

"Don't talk nonsense! No matter who they are over there, they can't hold on for long anyway, stab them all!"

The old militiaman Chivaco's face showed a rare ferocity. He shouted angrily.

"One, two, three, stab!"

Six or seven spears pierced through the intertwined legs and stabbed at the center at the same time. Several people fell down on both sides of the battle, half of them were Ottopan warriors and half of them were Tarasco militiamen. They struggled while covering their legs, and then were stepped on by the crowd, and they were silent in a moment.

"One, two, stab again!"

Several more people fell, and the fighting paused slightly. The Tarasco militia began to push the first Ottopan warriors to the ladder.

"Stab! Stab again! Stab again!"

Continuous shouts rang out, and new militia joined in. A dozen people squatted and stabbed the warriors' legs and feet that were not protected by shields. This kind of wound is not fatal, but it can make the injured lose the ability to fight.

The Tarasco militia continued to stab with spears, and the newly climbed warriors had to stop and squat with shields to cover the bottom. The Tarasco warriors who supported from the rear finally rushed to the top of the city, and cooperated with the militia to drive the Ottopan warriors down.

"Hu, hu!"

Old militiaman Chivaco slumped on the ground, still wearing a shield on his head. He smiled and was about to say something to the militiamen around him. A fierce rain of arrows attacked again, and in a blink of an eye, several militiamen beside him were shot dead, and the masters on the top of the city also fell down with a scream.

There was a "bang" on the old militiaman's head, and the momentum directly brought him to the ground in a pool of blood. After a moment, he stretched out his bloody hands, touched the feather arrow stuck on the shield, and muttered to himself.

"There is really no way out in this kind of life."