A dry north wind blew across the Mexica Plateau, bringing a touch of cold. In the blink of an eye, it was already the beginning of December. The tropics had no winter, only a long, lingering late autumn. North of the Tlaxcala Valley, an autumn mood of utmost depth hung everywhere. At a glance, the open wilds were half withered yellow, half cold green, with an endless, lofty sky above.
Beneath that lofty sky stood the towering summit of Cloud Snake Mountain. Cloud Snake City remained solid and majestic, like a fortress that would never fall, only now it was stained with desolation and deep yellow.
Farther down, White Snake Hill City stood eight or nine li away. Among the rolling hills, the grass and trees were faintly yellow, with no birds or beasts in sight. A deep ring of trenches, along with camps set at intervals, had already encircled the entire White Snake Hill City. And looking down from the walls of White Snake City, the Mexica People's trenches were like the gaping maw of an Abyss worm, while their camps were like a mouthful of venomous fangs, ready to swallow the entire hill city bit by bit.
Beyond the hill city lay the evergreen trees on the plain, and within the green trees, Tree Snake City. The Shuigu River flowed quietly toward the northeast. The Mexica Legion's camps stretched for several li along the river, like a water python waiting patiently.
Xolotl stood at the "water python's" vital point, atop the walls of Tree Snake City where the Royal Banner had been raised. He gazed toward the northeast, his thoughts drifting far away. The kingdom's expedition fleet had entered the water several days earlier. And now, after replenishing abundant food supplies, the fleet had raised the alliance's banners