Xingyue, is Xiaokai also considered Kai?

You think you can block our path to wealth just because you talk about "love and peace"? Go find somewhere cool and stay there!

Therefore, they discussed it and jointly filed a complaint with the King of Spain.

After this sermon, Montecinos and his followers were threatened by the Spanish royal family and forced to return to Spain. However, they were then pressured to renege on their promise during a second sermon. On his second sermon, Montecinos issued an even harsher condemnation.

Bartolomé was also present at the time. He may have thought the old priest had some merit, but that was not enough to dampen his enthusiasm for making a name for himself.

It wasn't until 1513 that Bartolomé accompanied the Cuban governor to suppress the Indians.

During the Hatuy massacre, he witnessed tens of thousands of natives fall to the slaughter, which made him realize the bloody nature of the colonial movement and reminded him of Father Montesinos's sermons.

Despite gaining a rich "spoils"—the fertile territory of central Cuba—after the massacre, Bartolomé was plunged into deep guilt and self-reproach.

The subsequent massacre of the Tainos by the Spanish completely shattered his moral compass. He wrote in his diary:

“I have never seen or imagined such a large-scale and brutal phenomenon. Under the ravages of Spanish colonialism, this once vibrant island became a desolate wasteland. As for the docile Taino people, they later became completely extinct, while some of the rather tough Caribbean people who bravely defended their homeland survived.”

In that instant, Bartolomé understood Father Montesinos and the professors at the University of Salamanca.

After that, he gave up everything in the Americas, relinquished his land, freed his slaves, and abandoned the possibility of becoming an American 'aristocrat.' He returned to Spain, preached about the suffering of the Native Americans, and advocated for an end to this atrocity.

In a debate hosted by the Spanish royal family on whether the Native Americans had souls, Bartolomé, Montecinos, and some Dominican priests turned against the empire.

Even though the results were minimal, and he was hated, cursed, and assassinated by most of those who benefited from the colony, none of this could frighten him.

Because Bartolomé firmly believed that he was doing the right thing.

For there stands a statue of Novia in the Dominican Order. The founder of the church, Novia, stands before a pulpit carved from a giant stone, his gaze stern and profound, his left hand raised to his mouth like a microphone. The declaration of the founding of the church echoed from the desolate desert and has been passed down for thousands of years.

The words of the past, like light, slowly faded into the darkness.

A faint, ethereal glow drifted and floated across the world, as if to redeem those in distress who longed for rain, or to guide those who were lost.

“Bartolomé, do you know? I actually know about you, Montesinos, and the priests who resolutely opposed Spanish colonization. You did a great job; you are all respectable believers.”

In the stillness after the bloody slaughter, Favia walked up to Bartolomé and said with a smile.

Although the actions of Bartolomé and others did not achieve effective results in the 16th century due to the overwhelming power of colonial forces, it was their dissemination of their ideas through books that ultimately, in the 3rd century, under the call of Father Hidalgo, ignited the Mexican independence movement, known as the "Call of Dolores".

Almost simultaneously, wars of independence were raging across the Americas, the cry for freedom resounded throughout the New World, and royal power collapsed.

As long as the pace toward our ideals continues, the efforts of those who have gone before will never be in vain.

Bartolomé did not answer immediately because he did not know what he should say.

“It’s important to say things like ‘I hope you can eat well,’ but it’s also important to take action like ‘I’m going to cook for you myself.’”

He went on to say,

"I'm going to Cuba to bring those Indians back. Do you want to come with us?"

"What......"

In that instant, Bartolomé's eyes widened, almost unable to believe that what Favia said was true.

In fact, Favia had thought about this for a long time, because it was like stirring up trouble and alerting Spain to Mexico ahead of time and launch a war. But then he thought that the Cuban governor after Hernán would also be here, it was just a matter of a few months, so he made his decision.

Besides that, there is actually another reason—

"Ouch!"

A loud wolf howl echoed from the dense forest, accompanied by the sound, and the wolf revealed itself to everyone.

This was a giant coyote that Favia had previously encountered in the Guamal Union, a group of indigenous people known as the 'nomadic' Chichimecs, whom they considered a god and called 'Korti'.

This name is that of the guardian deity in Native American mythology, and also the guardian deity in Mayan mythology.

It seems to be an existence equivalent to a fantasy species, but there are some subtle differences. In Tralock's words, it feels like the rain god and the left hummingbird have personally descended and appeared.

The Aztec warriors were not particularly surprised by the appearance of the coyote Corti; rather, they seemed quite used to it and made way for it. The huge coyote then obediently lay down next to Favia.

“…Could it be…” Bartolomé murmured softly in amazement, “the mystery of the Americas…”

"That's right, its name is Corti. In Native American mythology, it is the name of a guardian deity."

“…Alright, I’ll go with you.” Bartolomé nodded emphatically. “I’ll go with you to bring the Indians back.”

A faint smile returned to Favia's lips, as if acknowledging the priest's courage.

Then, the Aztec leopard warriors who had been staying on the coastline, along with the Chichimecs who had come with the coyotes, boarded the ship that Favia had come on and the ship that Hernán had brought.

"Do you need help?"

Just as Favia was watching the crowd board the ship, Tralock's voice rang in his ears. It seemed that she, like the coyote, had learned of the situation and rushed over.

"I thought you would just walk up without saying a word."

"You mean you need it? Okay, I understand."

The black-haired girl answered indifferently, and then planned to go to the ship on her own. However, before she could take a few more steps, she was stopped by Favia.

"Let's forget about it. There's no Aztec faith on the island of Cuba. Me and the coyote are enough."

In fact, Tralock's strength at this moment is far less than when she first fought Favia. Due to the abolition of human sacrifice, the Central and South American world is in a slow process of 'destruction'. In addition, the replacement of the Rain God and the Left Hummingbird faith has made the black-haired girl, who can be called the god of the present world, extremely weak.

The destruction of the world and the decline of faith will naturally cause the strength of the Moon Lake to gradually return to the level of the elves, rather than the level of the gods.

“…No, I’m going.” Tralock shook his head. “But it’s not because I’m biased towards you, it’s because of the sun.”

"sun?"

"Yes, because Traloc was the sun of the Third Sun Age, and as you said—"

The black-haired girl turned around and looked directly into Favia's eyes. She stood tall and proud, looking completely innocent.

"The sun is great because it can illuminate even the tiniest specks of dust. I am not so foolish as to deny the sun's greatness just because I want to kill you. The Indians of Cuba are fellow human beings living in this cruel world."

"Is that so... Is this what you, as the incarnation of the Lake of the Moon, think?"

Favia's eyes were fixed on Tralock, and he moved forward slowly but steadily, step by step.

"Tenochtitlan is indeed an extremely beautiful city, or rather, a city that exists and was born because of the Lake of the Moon, how could it not be beautiful?"

"It doesn't matter, think what you want."

"Alright... By the way, does Xiaoxi know about what's going on here?"

“I see that Bavan Shi is still studying, so I haven’t heard anything about what’s going on here from her.” Tralock paused, then said expressionlessly, “Since you care about her so much, why don’t you just let her stay by your side?”

“That’s true. Although I know things will eventually calm down, I can’t predict the process because things could get chaotic and unpredictable. Because it’s unpredictable, I hope she stays safe.”

"...I don't understand, doesn't Bawan Xi get angry?"

The black-haired girl suddenly said in a somewhat annoyed tone.

"Because I made a promise to her that I would come back."

241: Light in Northern America (5k5)

When Geronimo was eight years old, his Spanish lord branded his forehead with a red-hot iron, branding him with the mark of a slave.

A red-hot branding iron tip can reach temperatures of nearly 800 or 900 degrees Celsius. If such a high temperature comes into contact with a human body, the consequences are unimaginable. Most adults cannot withstand it, let alone a young child.

When he was first branded, Geronimo cried out in pain due to the excessive physical suffering, but as he cried, he gradually stopped feeling the pain.

It's as if you've lost the feeling of pain. This is because such severe burns can damage the subcutaneous nerve tissue, which can make you feel less pain in the end. Instead, it leaves behind deep red and charred black wounds that are difficult to fade or remain there forever, signifying that you are a slave.

Besides the physical numbness, perhaps it's also because he's known about this day since he was a child.

As the child of a slave, he was naturally a slave himself; this was an imprint etched deep within Geronimo's heart.

After the lord released the red-hot branding iron, Geronimo, covered in sweat, felt a familiar fragrance wafting through the air.

He recognized it somewhat, because it seemed to be the aroma that emanated when the lord sometimes ate a food called meat.

He had heard that some Native Americans used to eat meat, but not anymore. Wild animals hunted had to be handed over to the lord first, or they would be skinned alive.

Geronimo had never eaten meat. He had only eaten various foods made from ground cornmeal, as well as corn itself, and drinks made from cactus fruit and water that the lord would give them when he was in a good mood.

That's already delicious.

Then, a little over five years after he was branded.

The most noble people on the island of Cuba are the Spanish, the lords, and we, as slaves, cannot and should not refute this. This is the concept that Geronimo has been instilled with since birth, and he has always regarded it as the truth.

But Geronimo still remembers what happened on that day when a bunch of people of the same skin color as him launched a massive offensive.

Spain, which had long regarded the indigenous people of Cuba as inferior "black pigs," originally thought that after so many years, these Indians would no longer dare to resist. However, the reality was not as they thought; the flames of resistance still burned among the local indigenous people.

Therefore, in 1513, some of the indigenous people of Cuba launched a massive uprising.

"Run! Run into the forest or anywhere else, just run! Survive! Find a boat and get out of here!"

Being yelled at to leave by a stranger who suddenly appeared, Geronimo felt a moment of bewilderment. So instead of obeying the man, he ran back to the simple house where the Spanish lord had given them to live.

When news of the uprising had just spread throughout Cuba, the Cuban governor immediately assembled a large Spanish army to suppress the indigenous people.

Due to the disparity in strength, the uprising came to an end after only a few days, with the sound of gunfire marking the end of the insurgents' days.

Perhaps to deter the Indians who survived the uprising, the Cuban governor did not immediately kill them all, but instead showed the surviving Indians, who were enslaved, the consequences of resisting them.

"Foolish black pig, you really don't know that naive courage is completely meaningless in the face of an educated bullet."

When the Cuban governor ordered his slaves to skin the previously captured rebels one by one in front of a large group of Indian slaves, he said this with a smile, and the Spaniards present, who had followed the governor in suppressing the uprising and received rich rewards, also laughed.

Only the Native Americans fell silent, and even the Native American slaves who had scalped their fellow countrymen in the name of the Cuban governor couldn't help but tremble.

"Sol, Sol, Sol, Sol, Sol, Sol, Sol..."

However, when the insurgents were being skinned alive by their own people, they were all laughing and shouting the same thing.

Incredibly, they all wore expressions of pure delight.

In fact, they did not want to die under the humiliation of the Spanish. If they were to die, they would at least want to die with their compatriots who had died on the battlefield.

There were no casualties recorded in this massacre because the Spanish did not consider them human beings and therefore did not intend to record them.

It was not until many years later, in his book "A Brief Account of the Destruction of the West Indies," written by Father Bartolomé, who hated the act because of his participation in the massacre and thus took the opposite path from colonization, that this reality was revealed. As a humanitarian, Bartolomé was opposed by the authorities and vested interests in Spain throughout his life.

In the account of another Spanish eyewitness, the conquest of the 'America' presented a completely different picture.

In "The Conquest of New Spain," written by Del Castillo, who followed Hernán Cortés in his conquest of the Aztecs, the firsthand account, written from the perspective of a soldier, makes the reader feel as if they have wandered into the wrong theater, as if they are witnessing scenes from Robinson Crusoe's Adventures, with islands, savages, and tribes.

This book offers a wonderful depiction of the customs and culture of the Aztec region, but the massacres it mentions are all due to the Indians' intention to harm the Spanish, with the Spanish acting in self-defense; or massacres carried out by Hernán without his knowledge; or massacres caused by feuds among the indigenous peoples.

In short, Hernán would never massacre people unless absolutely necessary; similarly, he would not plunder gold unless the chiefs insisted on giving it to him, and he would only accept it if he could not refuse, exchanging it for glass beads, a specialty of Spain; even the beautiful women among the Indians were accepted by Hernán under duress.

It also says that Hernán Cortés is a gentleman, an upright Spanish citizen, and a faithful believer whom God gave to the Americas.

After all, different perspectives lead to different focuses in the historical documents they write.

Ultimately, in the conquerors' self-portraits, they are the 'heroes' who liberate evil, the myth of defeating a vast ancient empire with negligible power.

However, Castillo still said at the end of the book, "We all went to New Spain for gold." Perhaps he said this at the end because he felt guilty.

At night, in the gold mines of Cuba, countless Indians were bent over, digging for gold under the watchful eyes of overseers.

The gold mine was dimly lit, almost nonexistent, and looked almost like pitch black. Each small hole was like a dog hole, and the Native Americans had to bend over and huddle inside to dig for gold. This working environment was unbearable for ordinary people, but for them, any complaints or resistance would result in beatings or cruel treatment by the Spanish.

For Geronimo, such a difficult life was already a habit. Even at a young age, he developed a hunchback and spinal curvature due to long hours of bending over to work, and every muscle in his body ached.

However, this was perhaps the first time Geronimo had ever been in such a cramped and dark little hole.

His eyes welled up with tears because of the distress he was experiencing.

Therefore, when he arrived, he secretly asked his fellow countrymen who were also digging for gold nearby.

"Why do they say 'sun'?"

The word "Sol," which the insurgents kept shouting before they died, means "sun" in Spanish.

Geronimo didn't understand why he had to shout "sun," and he also disliked the sun because it would be very hot and tiring when it came out.

"Because the sun is not only 'Sol' but also 'Apo'."

"...Apo?"

"This is how we pronounce the sun in our language, and in our language and in our legends, the sun has always been protecting us."

Later, Geronimo learned from this elderly Native American about their mythology, which he was unaware of before.

Animals, like manifestations of nature, bestow peace, protection, and glory.