Chapter 549 - 57: Spaniards (Part 2)
Before the battle, he had instructed to spare the Tribe Leader’s life, not to aim at the Tribe Leader before other Indigenous Warriors were dead.
But when the gunfire joined in an unbroken string and the smell of gunpowder spread, everyone’s spirits would become extremely excited, and in such a state, it was very possible to forget to follow orders.
In such situations, if the Tribe Leader were accidentally killed, Sunday would not be able to blame anyone.
Moreover, with a dozen people firing at the same time, if no one admitted to it, finding out who killed the Leader would not be an easy task.
Fortunately, the warriors’ obedience was quite reassuring; they managed to harm the enemy while sparing the ones who should be spared, which made Sunday feel quite content.
...
The Outer Heaven Demon on the mountain was advancing downward, while the tribe below was already in utter chaos.
The women, children, and elderly, hearing the news brought back by the deserters, dared not linger in the tribe, yet with the vast forests, leaving the tribe meant there were still hostile tribes elsewhere on the island.
Years of conflicts had long set the Great Tribe at daggers drawn with other tribes; once they trespassed onto someone else’s territory, they would undoubtedly be devoured alive.
Now, advancing meant death and retreat also meant death; those struggling on the brink of subsistence were at a loss, unable to make any decisions.
Their revered Leader, the "Warrior chosen by the Celestial God," the "invincible King," the "Divine Child destined to lead the tribe to rise," was now nowhere to be found.
However, to other members of the tribe, it no longer mattered where the Leader was.
What mattered to them now was figuring out how to survive, either by escaping or hiding, and they did not care about what happened to the Leader anymore.
...
Away from the center of the tribe, Lisoben panted heavily, leaning against the sturdy trunk of a tree, finally coming to a stop.
He hadn’t run like this for a very long time, and he felt a sharp pain in his chest, as if his heart and lungs were set on fire, burning painfully.
Beads of sweat were already forming on his forehead, and as he took deep breaths of air, Lisoben slowly sat down against the trunk of the tree.
He cautiously poked his head out and glanced behind him.
The lush branches and leaves obstructed his view, with the forest as tranquil as ever, without any unusual sounds except for the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves in the wind.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Lisoben leaned his head back against the tree to recover his strength.
He wanted to run directly down the path through the forest to the gathering place of Spaniards, as only there could provide him a sense of security now.
But in recent years, he had been either drinking or sleeping heavily in bed every day, and his physical strength was no longer what it used to be.
Starting from the hillside, he didn’t even manage to cover half the distance, let alone reach the other side of the island where the arrivals gathered without stopping.
However, to Lisoben’s fortune, not long after he began to flee, the loud noises ceased, and he no longer heard that terrible sound.
Perhaps this meant the unbeatable monsters had retreated, or maybe they had chased off in another direction.
Lisoben thought, and at such moments, having a bit of wishful thinking made him feel slightly better.
Closing his eyes and feeling his breathing gradually calm, Lisoben thought of standing up, but found that his legs were weak.
"Rest a bit longer!" he thought.
The longer he delayed, the more he felt that no one would catch up, greatly dispelling the fear in his heart.
The fatigue following intense exercise crept over his body, and the more he sat on the ground, the stronger the inertia became; Lisoben even considered sleeping here for a bit.
However, just as his drowsiness was gradually rising and he was about to fall into a light sleep, a sudden flurry of footsteps echoed from not far away.
Like being bitten by a poisonous insect, Lisoben was suddenly startled awake, and the drowsiness vanished instantly.
Forcing himself to stand, he thought it was pursuers arriving, ready to assess the situation before continuing to flee, but then discovered the sound was coming from the direction of the gathering place on the seaside.
"It’s the outsiders!"
Lisoben had never been so delighted; he stood up, using the little strength he had just recovered, deftly climbed up the tree, and took a glance towards the source of the sound, confirming his suspicions—
Eight Spaniards in Sailor Uniforms, with firearms on their backs and looking somewhat disheveled, were following the messenger Indigenous Warrior with faces full of impatience, slowly advancing in the direction of the tribe.
...
About two years ago, when their relationship with the Native Tribe was still reasonable, to aid the slightly more intelligent Tribe Leader compared to other "Wild Monkeys," they dispatched a sailor to a distant island to assist in finding the old Priest.
Subsequently, they lost one sailor.
This in itself was not a significant matter, and wouldn’t typically ruin the relationship between both sides.
What enraged the Spaniards was that after the sailor went missing on a strange island, they repeatedly requested the Tribe Leader to dispatch two canoes for a search and rescue, but Lisoben staunchly refused.
It was like being bitten by a domestic dog. Seeing Lisoben no longer as compliant as before, the Spaniards simply severed their ties with him and stopped aiding the tribe.
The tribe thus fell into decline, yet Lisoben never conceded, showing willingness to the Spaniards to send people to search for the missing sailor.
Once the relationship soured, it never recovered.
Lisoben could not understand why the outsiders would cool their relations with him over one life—
The robust Indigenous captives and beautiful native women he had given to the outsiders were far more than one; even exchanging twenty for one would have been more than enough.
The Spaniards similarly couldn’t fathom Lisoben’s simple thinking—
The island was a place occupied by Devils, which would devour anyone daring to set foot on it.
Whether it was the old Priest or a brave warrior, anyone attempting to land on the island out of season would never return.
Although Lisoben had heard from the old Priest that gods might not exist in the world, he did not believe that Devils did not exist.
Since the old Priest’s disappearance, the tribe had already lost quite a few people, and he did not wish to waste the strength he wielded in vain.
The vast differences in mindset led to a rift between the two sides, which was never bridged again.
If it weren’t for the need to continue transshipping treasures on the island and avoid causing trouble, according to the Spaniards’ attitude toward the Inca Empire, this tribe might have long been slaughtered entirely, leaving no room for a small Tribe Leader to throw tantrums.
...
After a long time, the Spaniards did not expect the Tribe Leader would come looking for them again, and the envoy he sent immediately rattled off a string of incomprehensible words upon meeting them.
If it weren’t for the temporary stay involving several native maidservants who had learned elementary Spanish during these two years and also understood the native language, serving as translators, they might not have truly taken this seriously, sending out as many as eight people, all equipped with weapons——
Disputes among the island’s interior were as trivial as children’s frolics to the Spaniards.
Yet the significance represented by other outsiders was entirely different.
It must be known that the island harbored the vast wealth looted from the Inca Empire, which was the pillar for every sailor’s lifelong sustenance.
For the sake of this astronomical fortune, they did not hesitate to risk their lives to sail far, battle the Inca Empire’s armies, and even remain on this isolated overseas island, leading monotonous lives to guard the treasures, awaiting supplies from companions.
All these sacrifices were made for the treasures.
Therefore, once anyone threatened this wealth, they would bare their jagged teeth like threatened wolves, ready to strike the enemy at any moment.
...
Fiercely advancing under the guidance of the messenger native towards the heights, unexpectedly, Lisoben suddenly emerged from a path along the way.
The nervous Spaniards were so startled at the sudden appearance of a living person from the bushes that they almost fired.
Fortunately, the loading procedure of the matchlock gun was extremely cumbersome, and they couldn’t fire at once but had to draw their knives to face the enemy. Otherwise, the bewildered Lisoben might have just "found his organization" only to become a bullet-riddled soul.
Seeing a group of people with golden, brown, and brunette hair, Lisoben, the sturdy Tribe Leader, almost shed a few tears.
Thank heavens, after clinging onto this life, he had been on tenterhooks.
Only now, upon merging with these outsiders, did he finally feel a true sense of security and felt his heart stop pounding wildly.