"Prophet, His Highness! After the Alliance legions ambushed and routed the Zapotec legion, they didn't pursue at once. We first swallowed those two thousand Zapotec vanguard troops, then let the armored warriors rest a little, and sent several hundred of the Jaguar Regiment to chase and frighten them! We didn't give them any chance to regroup! Look—along these twenty li of mountain road, the fallen Zapotec warriors number at least a thousand!... These corpses are scattered everywhere. Burying them will be very troublesome... But the Divine King said the bodies must be buried as quickly as possible, to prevent plague..."
"May the Main God bless us! These Zapotec warriors who died in battle truly must be buried as soon as possible, and it would be best to gather them together... The burial pit should be deeper. Best if it can be dug two men deep, to keep wild dogs from digging them out. And the burial site must also be far from rivers and water sources, at least fifty paces away..."
The noon sun was very warm. December on the highland was like early spring. Xolotl wore a bloodstained priestly robe and stood at the southeastern mouth of the Yun Shan Valley, his cotton shoes dyed from white to red. And a mountain valley road that led straight to the Oaxaca Valley was covered like this in traces of red and white, winding away before his eyes.
"O merciful Sun Main God! I pray for your gaze, pray for your arrival! I pray that you receive the souls of these fallen, and lead them to the Divine Kingdom in the sky. Whether they are Mixtec, Zapotec, or Mexica People of the Alliance, they all share one common identity—the ancient Rubber People!..."
Xolotl bowed his head in prayer, not only guiding