The Roar of Cannons, the Grandest Movement

The southern land was full of life. Green leaves never fell year-round, and fresh flowers still bloomed after autumn, adding a wash of bright color even to dusk.

On the drill ground of the camp outside Oto City, seven thousand men of the Imperial Guard Legion stood in a single line. Mexica Warriors, Purepecha warriors, Otomi warriors, Tecos tribal warriors, Guachichil Red-hair Hunters—elite fighters from every tribe under heaven had gathered beneath the king's banner. Every one of them wore a grim, killing expression, clad in Bronze Armor, gripping bronze weapons, and many also carried Longbows and throwing spears on their backs.

After resting and reorganizing in the capital, the Imperial Guard Legion had expanded to seven thousand men, and the proportion of Bronze Armor had risen to eighty percent. At a glance, it was all a golden "sea," filled with the strength of metal.

Xolotl wore finely crafted golden Bronze Armor and stood on the high platform, surrounded by several hundred armored personal guards. In front of the platform were several hundred southern nobles and their guards, each of them terrified and uneasy. Nearly a hundred meters ahead of the southern nobles, five hundred Artillery Battalion warriors had finished loading ten Sun God Eagle Cannons and thirty Rain God tiger-Crouching Cannons, their muzzles aimed toward the west.

In the west were the fiery-red setting sun, the shining mountains, and more than twenty noble captives beneath the mountains, their hands and feet bound, their faces ashen as death.

Guramo's expression was grave. He stood among the noble ranks without saying a word.

Not long before, he had taken Medina north, only to run straight into the kingdom's Capital Region Legion heading south. A full eight thousand warriors had passed beside him, all with strict military bearing, high morale, and fine