This heretic cannot be burned, he must be hung up and whipped!

“Wow——” “Wow——”

The North God's body swelled to the size of a car. It picked up Neos and turned into a flash of smoke and flew westward.

"That leopard has taken the Saint away! Go chase it!!!"

The Crusader beside him raised his gun to shoot down the North God, but was stopped by Boston: "This leopard has helped us before. It should be going to heal the saint. We have to follow it!"

"Go call someone!!!"

------------

Tenochtitlan, the capital of the Aztec Empire

Tenochtitlan, this magnificent city originally built in the lake, has become a metropolis with a population of one million after nearly a thousand years of construction by several dynasties.

The city is crisscrossed by a network of canals, crisscrossed by countless small boats. Along the stone-paved streets, the market is bustling with vendors shouting out their wares—a rich variety of corn, peppers, beans, tropical fruits, and exquisite handicrafts.

But the great temple in the city is a place that all travelers who come here must visit.

In front of the pyramid-shaped temple, steps climb up one after another, with the tops dedicated to the rain god and the god of war respectively. The outer walls are decorated with lifelike snake reliefs, and each stone tells a story from Aztec mythology. The main temple is the Temple of Quetzalcoatl.

When the North God appeared at the city entrance carrying the unconscious Neos, the surrounding residents only briefly stopped what they were doing, cast a respectful glance at it, and then continued with their daily lives. This familiarity with supernatural beings stemmed from the North God's frequent visits.

It always appears in every corner of the city like smoke and fog, sometimes wandering in the market, sometimes loitering near the temple, and even suddenly appearing in residents' homes to play pranks.

"The Lord of Night has come again," an old woman in a colorful cotton robe said to her granddaughter, bowing slightly in the direction of the North God. "Look, who has it brought with him?"

Its full name is Tezcatlipoca, the Sky God, the God of Darkness and the Formless, the Lord of the Night, and the Ruler of the North, among other titles.

"Is that the god who was injured by the tragedy?" the little girl asked curiously.

The old woman nodded solemnly. "Perhaps it's a messenger from God, child. Remember, always be in awe of the Spirit of the North."

The Northern God's smoky form shimmered in the sunlight as it crossed the city's main thoroughfare, heading straight for the temple district. Residents on both sides of the street retreated, bowing their heads in reverence. This reverence wasn't born of fear, but rather of respect born of long-standing coexistence.

When the God of the North arrived at the temple plaza, several figures in priestly robes were already waiting. They wore tall feather crowns and carried scepters. The Imperial High Priest immediately knelt on one knee, followed by the other priests. Nearby, Aztec Emperor Montezuma XIII and his ministers also performed the highest formalities, their gazes constantly shifting between the God of the North and the strange figure on its back.

"A disaster has befallen the east, and Quetzalcoatl has descended upon us in an avatar to stop it. He is injured and needs healing."

The North God suddenly spoke, his voice like the rustling of leaves, or like the echo of a distant valley, making it difficult to hear clearly.

"The servants of Quetzalcoatl will come to see you from outside the city. Do not stop them; bring them to the temple."

As soon as he finished speaking, the North God swiftly took to the air, and with a few jumps, he disappeared on the stairs of the central temple with Neos.

The temple was deserted. The North God walked through the corridors filled with offerings and decorations—flowers, feathers, jade, gold, the hearts of his enemies, and some fresh fruit—and finally arrived at the center of Quetzalcoatl's temple.

Here stood a massive statue of a feathered serpent, carved from green jade. Every feather and scale was meticulously crafted, the Aztec artisans' exquisite craftsmanship making it look as if it could come alive. The North God carefully placed Neos on the altar before the statue, then sat quietly beside it, his obsidian eyes fixed on Neos.

"Om-"

The statue of Quetzalcoatl began to glow, and liquid seemed to flow in the turquoise. Gradually, a real feathered serpent emerged from the statue.

Quetzalcoatl and the North God's gaze met, a silent exchange between the two ancient beings. A series of images flashed through the North God's eyes: Scott's mutated form, the strange stone dagger, and the dark power of Hell spreading across the continent.

And the sea water polluted by Scott's blood.

Quetzalcoatl swam towards Neos, hovered above him, and lowered his head to carefully examine the wound.

It slowly raised its head and let out a long sigh. Its body began to radiate a brilliant light, like the sky at sunrise and sunset, gradually disintegrating into countless shimmering points of light—the Priest God of Knowledge, the evil Evening Star, and the benevolent Morning Star. The starlight seemed to swirl around Neos's wound, then merge into it one by one. Every time a starlight sank into the wound, the gray pollution receded a little, until it disappeared completely.

When the last starlight merged into Neos' body, little of Quetzalcoatl's form remained, only a faint halo of light. It cast one last glance at the North God, its eyes filled with love and worry for this land, before transforming into a wisp of smoke and dissipating beneath the temple's dome.

The North God lowered his head, sitting beside Neos in sorrow. He looked up at the temple window, where he could see the eastern sky. There, a dark rift had once ripped open, from which the power of Hell poured down. Though the rift had closed, both the North God and the other gods of this land knew this was only the beginning.

"Cough! Cough cough!!"

Neos struggled to wake up.

PS: Bei Zhai struggled to get up from the bed to write... I almost had to send it last night. I was terribly uncomfortable sitting in a chair. I hunched over the table for hours without moving; the slightest movement was painful. Finally, as soon as I got up before bed, I felt nauseous and went straight to the bathroom to vomit everything I had eaten that morning. I hadn't eaten anything since I drank the aloe vera juice until yesterday, and then I vomited up all the noodles from yesterday morning and the steamed buns and porridge from lunch. I felt much better afterward. Although I was so exhausted I couldn't even stand up straight, I still rinsed my mouth (I didn't even have the energy to brush my teeth), took a cephalexin, and fell asleep.

I woke up the next day feeling much better. Although I still had diarrhea, my energy and spirit had returned, and my appetite was back. Antibiotics are so great, and the emperor is so great ()

260 votes, next update 4.5k meow... Refresh every five minutes and add some pictures.

Red Tide: 1921: Chapter 59: It's time to give the indigenous people some strength

"What happened?"

The last scene in Neos's memory froze at the moment he pierced the demon with his sword. The strange stone dagger slashed across his shoulder, light golden blood dripping, and then everything seemed to be frozen in time, plunging into endless darkness.

"Where am I? Wait! Where did they take me?!" He opened his eyes and instinctively wanted to clench his fist and put it to his mouth to cough a few times, but suddenly found that his hand seemed to be blocked by something and he couldn't lift it. He sat on the chair, and the faint smell of spices and cocoa in the air made him feel a little hungry.

Neos looked around and found himself in a magnificent hall. Gold and emerald ornaments gleamed in the firelight, and the walls were covered with familiar patterns:

The double-headed eagle, the golden skull of a human, and the imperial symbols ripped straight from his memories of his previous life as a Warhammer editor. Every detail set off alarm bells in his mind, and he had a foreboding feeling.

"This place...could it be the Terra Palace?" Neos' heartbeat suddenly accelerated, and a sense of panic surged over him like a tide.

"If this is the Terran Palace, then what is my status as someone sitting on this golden chair?"

"Am I the Emperor? No, how could an Emperor be tied to a chair? That old man must have kidnapped me and brought me to Terra to be used as a slave!"

"Hail to the Lord of Mankind!" Laughter suddenly came from beside his feet.

Neos tried to look down, but found his neck was also bound by something, the heavy pressure making it almost impossible to move. With some effort, he glanced upward, the edge of his metal helmet coming into view. He felt a dense network of wires on his scalp, like countless fine needles piercing his skull.

"No—I don't want to spend ten thousand years in prison! Emperor, I ****!"

Having just revived and his mind still hasn't reacted, he realized that he didn't seem to know High Gothic, so he subconsciously blurted out some Sichuan dialect:

"Imperial Guards! Imperial Guards! The boss of your house is running away!"

Neos, thinking of his future as a king, immediately began to struggle, swaying his body from side to side. Spiritual energy surged, and a ball of blue-white flame erupted from his palms, burning the restraints on his arms to ash. He ripped off the "helmet" on his head and took a closer look.

"fake?"

He breathed a sigh of relief, his mind, having just returned from a brink of death, finally returning to a state of sanity. It was merely a decorative brass crown, intricately carved with patterns, not some mechanical device connecting nerves. Neos's body, having just recovered from a serious illness, felt drained of strength. He slumped back into his chair, a layer of cold sweat on his forehead.

"I almost thought I was on the golden toilet..."

"Hahahahahaha!" A burst of laughter came from the feet.

Neos looked down and saw the North God rolling on the ground, laughing. His body was shaking like a sieve, and his tail was swishing back and forth, making a "slapping" sound. He laughed and said intermittently:

"So—so this is the scene you're afraid of! When that guy told me about your fear before he fell asleep, I thought he was playing a trick on me!"

"Northern God?" Neos' eyes widened, questions flooding his mind one after another. "Where am I now? Is the demon dead? Who healed me? Where are my crew members? Who is 'that guy' you mentioned? Wait, why are you talking all of a sudden?"

"Hey, hey, hey! I can always speak, okay? It's just that you don't understand our language!" Beishen swung his tail in dissatisfaction and stood up. His dark eyes gleamed, and he pointed his paw at a very short distance:

"Although we're a little weaker than you, we saved your life! Quetzalcoatl gave you his essence, fell into a deep sleep, and acknowledged you as his 'incarnation.' But don't hold onto this position forever, or casually tell your followers to change their beliefs. If the people's faith shifts to another deity, Quetzalcoatl will never wake up!"

"I can never repay you for saving my life. As long as I can do this, please don't let me betray humanity. You can ask for the rest!"

The gratitude for saving his life had long outweighed the dissatisfaction of being pranked, and Neos grasped the North God's claw and shook it.

"Wait until Quetzalcoatl awakens before you ask Him to make your request. He has been protecting our civilization for thousands of years, and now he will sleep for a long time."

As the North God spoke, his tail gently whipped Neos's calf, as if to remind him to be careful. He continued:

"Now that you've received the knowledge Quetzalcoatl has given you, you'll be on your own dealing with those old men and women of the empire. Although the demon is dead, it carries the power of other gods. Its blood has polluted the fish in the sea, and several other gods similar to me have gone to deal with the pollution. I'm leaving first!"

"Wait a minute! I have another question--" Before Neos could finish his words, the North God had already transformed into a ball of shimmering smoke, flew towards the east with a whoosh, and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Neos shrugged, sat back in his chair, and began to sort out the extra knowledge about Quetzalcoatl in his mind.

"Squeak-"

The stone door of the hall was slowly pushed open, and several attendants walked in. They were wearing colorful feather robes and holding utensils. Seeing the North God leave, they simply bowed respectfully and then began to get busy.

They removed the double-headed eagles and golden skulls from the walls and replaced them with Aztec-style decorations—serpent reliefs, feather hangings, and stone slabs carved with the sun and stars.

Neos cleared his throat, stood up, and tried to make his voice sound calm:

"You can call me Neos. I am now one of the incarnations of Quetzalcoatl. A disaster struck the east some time ago, and although I eliminated it,..."

In the simplest terms, he recounted to his attendants the events of the past: the demonic invasion, the fierce battle, and the whereabouts of the Northern God and the other gods. The attendants listened quietly, their faces devoid of the fanatical piety of the European Crusaders, only a calm respect, as if they were listening to an elder recounting the past.

"Respected Neos, what do you need from us?"

A leading priest stepped forward, carrying a basket filled with corn, peppers, pumpkins, and some seeds with a slightly bitter aroma. Her eyes were calm, with a natural respect, not as if she were treating a god, but as if she were treating a great ancestor from history books.

Neos was stunned for a moment. This attitude was completely unimaginable in the European Catholic world.

There, God reigns supreme, believers either praying fervently or confessing tremblingly, while God remains in a perpetual state of automatic combat and harvesting. On the American continent, the gods of polytheism seem more like partners coexisting with humans.

They play pranks, appear, and even, like the North God, make children cry every other day. These gods are more like natural spirits with extraordinary powers than "gods."

"Take me to see your ruler." Neos paused, his eyes falling on the basket. "By the way, are these cooked?"

"They are the food offered to you by the residents."

The priest smiled slightly and handed over a black block that exuded a strong cocoa aroma.

Neos took it, took a bite, and nearly spit it out. It smelled like chocolate, but the taste was a strange mixture of cornmeal, chili peppers, honey, cinnamon, and cocoa beans, almost masking the sweetness. He forced himself to swallow it, forcing an awkward smile.

"...a little unique."

The priestess obviously noticed his discomfort. She smiled and handed him a sweet potato: "This may be more to your taste."

Neos took a bite. After thousands of years of breeding and hybridization, the industrious Aztec farmers had made the sweet potato taste almost exactly like he remembered. The sweet taste instantly dispelled the strange smell. He sighed:

"This stuff is much better than your... uh... ancient chocolate. Come on, lead the way."

"It's my honor to serve you." The priest nodded slightly and led him out of the hall.

----

The streets of Tenochtitlan were bustling with activity, crisscrossed by canals, with small boats plying the waters, carrying goods and people.

Along the stone-paved streets, the market was bustling with activity, with vendors shouting out their wares. Neos's European attire was out of place in this colorful city, but his fluent local language led the residents to mistake him for a foreign traveler.

"Dear guest! Look at this piece of obsidian, carved like the eye of the Lord of Night!" a vendor shouted enthusiastically, holding up a smooth stone.

"Come and try our chili sauce, it's guaranteed to make your blood boil!" Another vendor handed over a small bowl of dark red sauce. Neos waved his hand and quickly refused. Although he was very craving spicy food, he was about to meet the ruler here and had to maintain a good image.

As he walked, his eye was drawn to a shop. On the stall stood several pieces of pitch-black ore, and scattered iron ornaments lay clinging to the ore's surface, motionless. Neos walked over and picked up a piece of ore. It felt heavy and a little cool in his hand.

"It's a magnet, right?" he asked the stall owner.

"This is black stone from the Colima Mountains to the west!" the vendor, a wrinkled old man, said proudly. "You've never seen this before, have you? This stone is amazing! It can even attract iron! After processing it, we can make tools more durable than bronze. But once it's processed, it loses its attraction."

Neos was certain it was magnetite! And judging by its attractive properties, it was of high purity. He glanced at the stall again and noticed several neatly shaped pieces of pyrite, which the residents seemed to treat as mere decorations. He suppressed his excitement and continued, "Is this black stone in high production? Where is it mined?"

"There are plenty!" the old man laughed. "There are plenty everywhere in the Colima Mountains. Dig them up and sell them to the blacksmith in exchange for some corn and cloth."

Neos nodded, his mind already mulling over the matter. If the Aztec Empire could harness these iron ore deposits, combined with European smelting technology, entering the Steel Age would be a breeze. This continent's resources were far richer than he'd imagined. With a little guidance, they could become a solid backing against the demons of Hell.

"Let's go, don't keep the emperor waiting." He patted the priest's shoulder and quickened his pace.

------

The Aztec palace, located on the west side of Tenochtitlan, was a magnificent structure built of massive stone. Its exterior was adorned with reliefs of feathered serpents and the sun, and a brightly colored feather flag fluttered from its crown. When Neos entered the palace, Montezuma XIII was already standing on the dais, wearing a crown studded with turquoise.

Behind him stood a group of ministers, all with solemn expressions.

"Respected Quetzalcoatl, welcome to Tenochtitlan." Montezuma XIII bowed slightly and performed a solemn salute.

Neos responded with a polite gesture, following the knowledge instilled in him by Quetzalcoatl. "Thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesty. I have come from the far east, bearing... some unpleasant news."

Since the people here weren't as religiously fanatical as those in Europe, he didn't beat around the bush and directly told his story: he came from a continent across the sea with a population of over a hundred million, where the people possessed technology far beyond the imagination of the Aztecs.

Read-yi弍{研究旗陸酒易3坝(Six) Firearms, steel, electricity, and machines that can fly in the sky. He mentioned the invasion of the demons from Hell, Scott's fall, and the power hidden behind the stone dagger. Finally, he warned in a heavy tone:

"The power of Hell has come to this land. Your warriors may stand against mortals with spears and bows, but against the weapons of demons, you stand no chance.

Their firearms can pierce your skulls from hundreds of meters away, and their heavy artillery can destroy entire cities from dozens of kilometers away. Their aircraft are faster than your fastest birds, and their poison gas and viruses can wipe out hundreds of thousands of people in a single day. Believe me, for an agricultural nation that hasn't entered industrialization, there's no chance of success against Hell. You can't always count on the gods to intervene.

Silence fell in the hall. Montezuma XIII's expression remained calm, but his fingers tightened slightly, gripping the edge of his cloak. The ministers murmured among themselves, suspicion in their eyes. They revered the incarnation of Quetzalcoatl, but Neos's words were undoubtedly a disparagement of the Aztec civilization, as if their swords, walls, and temples were vulnerable to these "heretics."

"Your words do make sense," a white-haired minister said, "but we have the protection of the Rain God and the God of War, and the wisdom of Quetzalcoatl. Our warriors can slit the throats of their enemies with obsidian knives, and our cities have stood for thousands of years, never conquered! The Mayans couldn't do it, nor could the barbarians (Indian tribes) in the north, nor could those demons!"

Neos sighed. He understood that this sense of pride was a product of the Aztec civilization, which had been passed down for thousands of years. No one would take such talk seriously until they saw the real thing. He shook his head.