"In the Mountain River City, only ten to twenty thousand Mistec tribes remain? That means, including the previous captives, throughout the entire Mountain River City Valley, at the heart of over a hundred miles of the Mixteco Alliance... no more than twenty to thirty thousand of the lowland Mixteco tribes are left?"
The night was dark, Aweit and Xiulote sat opposite each other, firelight flickering in the tent of the Divine King. Yun Chen's corpse lay like a headless sacrifice, and the Mixteco heritage tablet rested on the mat like a trophy of merit.
"Someone! Bring the newly cast small bronze cauldron just sent from the Lake Capital City, and cook an entire fresh turkey! Also, prepare wine, fruits, and vegetables, for I am going to drink heartily with the Elder Priest!"
"Yes, Your Majesty, the Divine King!... "
