[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations":3,"chapter-the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-126":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","The Nation of Ten Thousand Nations",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2333094,4562,"Chapter 126: First Battle (7)","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-126",126,"\u003Cp>When later generations spoke of this war, one could say there were ten thousand perspectives—they analyzed it through every channel, every angle, every individual’s standpoint, exhausting all means to find the tiniest evidence to prove their own arguments.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But one point was certain and universally acknowledged: before this ambush, hidden within boundless night, every action taken by either side—Al-Ahsa or Nureddin—followed a discernible pattern.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some might mock the avarice and short-sightedness of the Crusaders’ de facto leaders, Raymond, Count of Tripoli, and Bohemond, Prince of Antioch; yet from their experience, though Al-Ahsa was internally weak, its situation had stabilized—it was the renewed danger along the pilgrimage route that truly alarmed them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They did not believe that Nureddin, an aging, succession-deprived Sultan who had been fighting another Syrian Viceroy just months prior, would suddenly muster a vast army to march south and attack Al-Ahsa.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps someone will ask: Didn’t Amalric I also alter the course of battle through his death? No, it was entirely different.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If Amalric I had been nearly sixty, he would never have dared, nor would he have chosen, to leave Al-Ahsa—it would have been irresponsible to himself and the Crusaders. When he departed, he was only in his forties, in the prime of his vigor; had it not been for the treacherous and selfish Sharwal, who sacrificed his own life and the entire city of Fustat to outmaneuver him, Amalric’s second campaign would have ended in perfect triumph.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for Nureddin’s side, we now understand his resentment: he was only the second son of Zengi. Though Zengi divided all his possessions equally between his two sons, Nureddin clearly possessed less than his elder brother—and his elder brother was a mediocre, inept man.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Know that the man he most revered was the Prophet Muhammad; yet a mere Syria was far too small a domain to allow him to follow in the Prophet’s footsteps.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And over these decades of warfare, rivalry, and infighting, he had grown ever more certain—only by uniting the scattered, sand-like forces of the Saracens, as the Prophet Muhammad had once done, could they be bound together: faith, and faith alone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And if he wished to pick up the authority the Prophet had left upon the earth and set forth once more toward his goal—what could he use to convince the people?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Holy City.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Al-Ahsa had once been a city of the Canaanites, the Isaacites, the Romans, and the Saracens. It was also the sacred place where their Prophet Muhammad had ascended to heaven—but it had been seized by outsiders, and every Sultan and Caliph since had sought to reclaim it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If Nureddin could accomplish this at the very end of his life, he would kneel before the Prophet Muhammad in paradise and report this glorious feat, and his descendants would become inheritors of the Prophet’s authority and ideals, like Abu Bakr, Umar ibn al-Khattab, Uthman ibn Affan, and Ali ibn Abi Talib—the Four Rightly Guided Caliphs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Precisely because of this, upon realizing his illness was beyond cure, the old man immediately concealed this secret. He did not, like a common mortal, seek to prolong his life—whether through rest, healing, or prayer…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Instead, he made his choice immediately—he would die in Al-Ahsa.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The foolish Crusaders indeed thought as he expected, though more from his contempt than their own insight: even though he had once been a glorious warrior, he was old now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They believed he lacked such courage—but Nureddin proved with action that he possessed it, and great courage indeed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that time, Al-Ahsa was nearly an empty city; the Crusaders’ main forces had marched north. Though some knights and soldiers remained, their strength could not compare to Nureddin’s ten-thousand-strong army—but no one had anticipated that the young Baldwin IV had left the Holy City and just happened to encounter the Sultan outside Ma Kabu Castle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This event could only be attributed to the Fates: they seemed to delight in turning the spindle’s thread at such crucial moments, diverting the river of possibilities into another direction.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Nureddin’s army surged forward, vast and relentless, like a flood breaking through all before it. They may have spotted the Christian knights—but they paid them no mind, just as Nureddin’s light cavalry had once spotted a Templar knight emerging from Ma Kabu Castle and mistook him for an ordinary guard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Had Nureddin merely paid closer attention, he would have noticed that Ma Kabu Castle had suddenly swelled with many knights, horses, and attendants; a little thought would have revealed that Baldwin IV was inside. Had he realized this, the story we know today would have been rewritten entirely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he did not.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When night fell and his army was forced to rest beside the lush waters of the Sea of Galilee (Taibaliehu), the narrow terrain compelled them to form a long, thin line.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This “line” was sharply divided by rank and status; Philip, Grand Master of the Templars, who had fought the Saracens for years, instantly recognized the location of the Sultan’s encampment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After Baldwin IV and Cesar breached the gap, he immediately ordered other knights and attendants to surge into the opening and widen it, aiming to sever the Sultan’s encampment from the rest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, knights and attendants hastily recruited from other castles and cities, along with armed servants, were tasked with dispersing the roughly twelve thousand Nubian slave soldiers behind them—four thousand cavalry and eight thousand infantry, numerically overwhelming.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But it was deep night; these poorly organized and untrained Nubians, blinded by darkness and terrified by flames, screams, and chaotic shadows, were utterly disoriented. They had come only for money, without faith, law, or any other restraint—and so they chose to flee without hesitation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In truth, had they stood firm, steadied themselves, and looked closely, they would have seen that those galloping, screaming, hurling torches, firing crossbows, and swinging swords among them numbered barely a thousand—mostly knights and attendants, some even local townsfolk.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though they did not dwell in Al-Ahsa, they understood the principle: when the lips are gone, the teeth grow cold. If the Saracens took Al-Ahsa, their fate would be at least expulsion—Nureddin showed little mercy to infidels, and even if he had, the Emirs would never permit it—where else would they plunder and slaughter?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And what Baldwin IV asked them to do was not difficult, nor even dangerous: they merely needed to create enough noise to make these black-skinned infidel scum believe a vast army had suddenly arrived. Indeed, casualties were light—only a few unlucky souls injured by accident or thrown from their mounts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These Nubians even discarded their few weapons and abandoned their horses, fleeing recklessly. Some, lost in the dark, leapt headlong into the Sea of Galilee (Taibaliehu); if they could not swim, they drowned quickly; even if they could, panic might cause them to misjudge direction—this was a night lake, and if they swam blindly downward instead of upward, they would inevitably drown.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The most difficult challenge, of course, were the Emirs and Fatih leaders. Unlike the Nubians, they had faith and loyalty. But then came the strange event: several men clad in long Saracen robes, turbans wrapped around their heads, rode into the camp shouting loudly, “The Sultan is dead!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The Sultan is dead!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The Sultan is dead…!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this moment, the danger of autocratic rule by Caliph or Sultan alone in the Saracen dynasty became evident.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the Crusader ranks, even if a king like Amalric I died, the army could immediately elect a new commander through council and vote—but the Saracens could not.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While the Sultan lived, everyone here was his slave, and they would become slaves to his son. Which slave would dare seize command upon the Sultan’s death unless he was certain he would become the next Sultan? Otherwise, he faced annihilation by the Sultan’s army on his own lands—or a solitary walk into the Sultan’s palace, where he would kneel and allow the Chief Eunuch to strangle him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even Saladin, who would become the next Sultan, had never dared appear before Nureddin until now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Instantly, the tribal leaders of Saracens, Kurds, and Turks were thrown into chaos: some rushed desperately toward the Sultan’s tent to verify the truth; others sought retreat, eager to return to Damascus or Aleppo; even the clever ones who suspected enemy deception could not possibly persuade others amid such confusion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And in that gap, Baldwin IV’s elite had caught up with Nureddin’s column. Nureddin had a two-thousand-man personal guard—the hardest shield and sharpest spear of the entire battle. But as on every previous battlefield, no enemy could stand before or even delay Baldwin IV and Cesar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They advanced toward Nureddin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Who are they?” Nureddin asked. His Chief Eunuch vaguely guessed their identities—the Spear and Shield of Al-Ahsa—a reputation long echoed across every battlefield. A man as astute as Nureddin immediately realized: he had heard the young Baldwin IV was traveling abroad; at the time, he had assumed this was another Edessa Count—just as the Lord of Edessa had been away when Zengi attacked Edessa.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Sultan smiled with regret. “Ma Kabu,” he murmured. They had once met at Ma Kabu—but then, young Baldwin IV had seen him, while he had not seen Baldwin IV. He never imagined this astonishingly youthful monarch would neither flee nor return to Al-Ahsa to defend it—but instead chose this reckless path.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>More astonishing still—he had succeeded. But what of it? Perhaps fate had destined their battlefield not in Al-Ahsa, but here. Nureddin’s eyes blazed, his blood surged; everything before him seemed veiled in fine red sand—here, he still had two thousand men. How many could the enemy muster in haste? Three hundred? Five hundred?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Victory still stood beside him. “Allah…” he tried to pray—but heard no sound. He looked down at his hands in surprise: his long knife had slipped from his grasp. He saw his Chief Eunuch rushing toward him in panic, mouth wide open, as if screaming something.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Sultan’s memory ended. He fell from his horse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thus, the battle was decided.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>————\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Sultan fell to the ground; all were stunned—except one “Saracen” quietly vanishing into the crowd—he wore a smile of vengeance, tears streaming down his face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What followed needs no recounting: the Saracens lost all will to fight and scattered in flight. The Christian knights pursued them all the way to Damascus before reluctantly halting—they were truly few, and this undeniable victory left even Cesar dazed, let alone Baldwin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He would often shake Cesar awake—they had originally slept in separate rooms, but Baldwin kept wanting to confirm things and talk, so Cesar, exasperated, dragged out his bed’s wheeled cot and temporarily shared a room with him, as they had when they were prince and squire.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“God,” Baldwin sat on the bed, hair wild, “did we win?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“We’re not in a Saracen prison—we’re in…?” He looked up, scanning…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“In Bethlehem. We return to Al-Ahsa tomorrow.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh,” Baldwin said: “So we won. We defeated Sultan Nureddin and his soldiers.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Indeed—over ten thousand of them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Nureddin…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He’s still alive—but not for long.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“….”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sleep, Baldwin. They’re planning a triumphal procession for you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They’ll paint your face red, put you on a two-wheeled cart, and have a black-skinned Nubian slave stand beside you saying, ‘You are but a mortal.’”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The room fell silent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’re mocking me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>——————\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, there was no triumphal procession—but when they entered Al-Ahsa, the crowd’s roar nearly lifted Baldwin and Cesar off the ground—even the lowest beggar knew their victory meant one thing: no one in this city would die because of the Saracens!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Nureddin was placed in a sealed carriage. Baldwin had no intention of humiliating the old man—but on the first night of their arrival in Al-Ahsa, he died.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His body was preserved properly; news of his death reached Aleppo swiftly. Regardless of the feelings of his three sons, all first sought to retrieve their father’s and the Sultan’s remains from the Christians, hold the rites, and bury him—so a negotiation party was assembled that very night, along with some “gifts.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the dark-haired girl was dragged from her room by the eunuchs, her expression remained calm—unlike her companions, the former First Lady watched them: “You once danced and played music before the Sultan. Had he not been preoccupied then, you would have been his concubines…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing this, the golden- and brown-haired girls collapsed in terror; two began to weep—though the Saracens had no custom of human sacrifice, no wife ever welcomed her husband’s concubines. Now the First Lady was the sole mistress of the harem; she could treat them as she wished, and no one would speak out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But my master would not wish me to do this… yet I do not wish to see you again,” the First Lady rose. “Go with the envoys—to Al-Ahsa. Serve the Christian king.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2139,"2026-06-20T20:58:34.857Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","ebd8c53821863a3f7c9ddcaee053450e49744a9619c8d56bcbdcb6e246d52d69","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-127","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-125",168,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-cover.jpg"]