NOVPUB"Old Iyitong, how dare you steal my corn!"
Having said that, Ayuli reached out his hand to snatch the food from the old man’s hands.
Old Iyitong, while hunching over to dodge, frantically stuffed the corn into his mouth, stuttering as he babbled.
"Young Ayuli, haven’t you stolen enough corn from my family? Give me back just one cob, I haven’t eaten in so long!... By the way, is the war over? Did only a few of you return? Where is my little Iyitong?"
At these words, Ayuli suddenly stopped his hand. He scratched his head, sighed, and took two steps back, crouching in front of the clay pot, muttering something.
Seeing this, Old Iyitong also stopped eating his corn. He looked at Ayuli, trembling as he asked.
"My little Iyitong?... He..."
Ayuli didn’t make a sound and hesitated for a long while before nodding.
Old Iyitong took two steps back in disbelief. In that moment, it seemed like all his strength had been sapped from him. The next, he abruptly turned to look at the dazed old militiaman Chiwaco and staggered toward him. In his hand, he held onto the half-eaten corn cob as if clinging to his last hope.
"Chiwaco, where is my little Iyitong? All of you have returned, where is he?!"
Hearing the loud questioning, the old militiaman slowly turned around, seeming to awaken from a deep sleep. He opened his eyes to see the old man rushing toward him, his expression gradually distorting and then bursting out with a shout.
"Old Iyitong, why are you, this old immortal, still here! Where is my wife? Where is my son? Where is my daughter?! Where are they?!"
Old Iyitong ignored the question. He approached the old militiaman, only to keep asking loudly.
"Where is my son?!"
"Your son is long dead! He was shot with an arrow and fell into the lake, leaving nothing behind, not even a body for the crocodiles!"
Old Iyitong stood there as if struck by lightning. He stood motionless, muttering to himself.
"Crocodiles... Crocodiles..."
Chiwaco rushed forward, his eyes shining with a strange glow. He grabbed Old Iyitong by the collar and shook his withered body violently, growling fiercely as he demanded.
"Old man, where is my family? Where is my son? Where is my daughter? Where is my wife?!"
Old Iyitong, jolted by the violent shaking, looked at Chiwaco with a defeated expression and spoke bleakly.
"Chiwaco, your family is gone! Your son was taken away by the second round of conscription by the Great Nobility! Your daughter was offered to the samurai by the village chief! Your wife, in despair, drowned herself two months ago. Her body was never found, no one knows where it decayed, and nobody went to look for her."
Upon hearing this, Chiwaco’s eyes widened, his body instantly froze, and tears streamed silently down his cheeks. Then he gasped violently, trembled violently, and then roared furiously.
"My wife is gone, she’s gone, gone... Damn it! My son was only fifteen, my daughter only thirteen! I will kill them all!"
Next, the old militiaman’s eyes filled with fierce killing intent as he aggressively throttled Old Iyitong’s neck, asking harshly.
"You old immortal, where’s the village chief?... I will kill him! Kill him!!"
Old Iyitong, terrified, looked at the Chiwaco he’d never seen before. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Seeing this, Chiwaco slightly loosened his grip and continued staring fiercely.
"The village chief... he was taken away by the Great Nobility in the third round of conscription... Who knows where he is now, he might also be thoroughly dead."
The old militiaman froze once again. A look of confusion appeared in his eyes, and his hands lost their strength. After a while, he murmured to himself.
"They’re all dead... why don’t you die? Why don’t you die?..."
Old Iyitong struggled to twist his neck free from Chiwaco’s loosening grip. He gasped for air and, hearing the old militiaman’s question, thought it was about himself.
"The Great Nobility doesn’t care about these old bones of mine, that’s why they spared my life. Besides, being conscripted doesn’t mean certain death, your son and daughter might still be alive somewhere in the Capital City."
"They know nothing, how could they survive in these times!... No, no, you’re right, they aren’t dead, I have to find them and bring them back!"
At this, the old militiaman’s dull eyes lit up again. He looked across the lake to the Capital City, his only hope, and his new target. Then, he lowered his head, wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve, and left Old Iyitong behind, heading to where the militiamen were gathered around the fire pit. He needed to discuss plans with the comrades who had fought and survived together.
Old Iyitong stood alone in the corner. He slowly finished the corn, slowly squatted down, and then slowly lay on the muddy ground, like an old yellow fish out of water. Next, he rolled over with difficulty, buried his head in the mud, and began to cry softly.
The old militiaman Chiwaco gathered six companions. His eyes burning with passion, he spoke loudly about something. Then Weizti was the first to nod. The other militiamen stood still for a moment, some nodding in agreement, some shaking their heads in refusal, and they began to argue. Young Ayuli didn’t care where he went, he looked toward the nearby lake and suddenly spotted something.
"Look! There are two boats coming."
Two typical canoes approached the lakeside, with shields erected on board, clearly a warship. From the warship, a dozen or so Tarasco warriors jumped off, holding gleaming copper spears and sturdy wooden shields, they marched indifferently toward the smoky village.
"Which village are you militiamen from!"
The leading warrior wore the garb of the House of Hummingbird. Returning from battle, the militiamen had learned much, and clearly, this was a warrior of the Great Nobility.
