[{"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-153":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},2333121,4562,"Chapter 153: Breakout (2)","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-153",153,"\u003Cp>More than a decade later, a great Saracen commander would praise it thus: Acre is the eye of Syria, and Acre Castle is the pupil within that eye.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To receive such praise, Acre Castle could not possibly be merely a vast, empty shell. As people well knew, it had three gates, each connected to towering, thick walls stretching for thousands of feet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The South Gate—the only entrance and exit of Acre Castle—was also called the Sultan’s Gate, for whether new or old, every Sultan must enter or be carried out through it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was plain yet solemn, with almost no ornamentation, save for an inscription carved above the lintel—words penned in the Sultan Nur al-Din’s own hand: “Truth is a mirror.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beyond this gate lay a dense cluster of buildings, clearly smaller and more crowded, for those who dwelled here were not the Sultan and his ministers, but the eunuchs, soldiers, and servants who served them. Though they were part of Acre Castle, like daily sunlight and dew, they might enjoy a share—but certainly not the greatest or best.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even so, their treatment and honor surpassed that of anyone beyond the castle walls.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The second gate was called the Lions’ Gate, for two lions were carved on either side of its entrance—lifelike, glaring, as if the most vigilant guards, fiercely protecting the Sultan within. Sometimes, an Emir or a Fatah would even refer to himself as one of the two lions, likening himself to these beasts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Behind the Lions’ Gate stood a cluster of palaces, roughly a dozen in number, built along the slope of the hill. No concubines lived here; this was where the Sultan received ministers and handled state affairs, the most frequently used halls being the Throne Hall and the Sovereign’s Chamber.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Contrary to popular belief, the Sultan did not permit all his ministers to crowd into one room during governance—nor could he. The Zengid dynasty still upheld the ancient provincial system. True, beneath the Sultan there were only slaves, but these slaves wielded immense authority granted by the monarch—the power to govern a region or province.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though the Sultan retained the right to life and death over them, if they earned his trust and ensured their province sent one-fifth of its annual revenue reliably into the Sultan’s treasury, he generally refrained from interfering in their governance. Undoubtedly, this system bred countless ambitious men.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When a Sultan possessed wisdom, strength, and reverence beyond ordinary men—like Nur al-Din—he saw only bowed wheat before him. But if he grew weak, old, or lacked a worthy heir, these docile crops would instantly turn into sharp thorns, piercing the monarch with bloody wounds and searing pain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The third gate had no official name, for it led to the Sultan’s harem. People were inevitably curious about the Sultan’s women, yet none dared act boldly here—only the most reckless, drunk on grape juice, might vaguely call it the Rose Gate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The disturbances arose near the Rose Gate—in the Throne Hall, the Sovereign’s Chamber, and the palaces hidden behind it. It was likely the princes had gathered their men here, and the riot behind the Rose Gate targeted the Sultan’s three consorts. Once the bloody war of succession began, both princes would inevitably seek to seize or kill each other’s mother. Their mothers were not mere slave women without status or lineage—their lives carried vastly different weight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But clearly, the two consorts were not unprepared. Yet whether the two most important halls or the Sultan’s harem, both lay some distance from where the Christian knights were quartered. No one would place an enemy’s embassy at the heart of a fortress—now, this became their advantage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beyond the second gate, the Lions’ Gate, residences were separated by low walls or trees; between them and another location lay an olive grove. Cesar need not fear his knights becoming lost in the dark. Even without divine blessing, these knights, who never lacked fish or meat, could see far more in the night than common folk.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just before stepping out of the olive grove, Cesar suddenly halted. His knights, confused, pulled their mounts to a stop.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon, they heard distant commotion. Geoffroy softly whistled—the sound came from the Great Stable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Due to the Zengid provincial system, only the Grand Vizier and a few officials served the Sultan daily. If he wished to exercise authority over a provincial governor, he summoned him to Acre. Part of the residences behind the Lions’ Gate were reserved for them, and the Great Stable—large enough for a thousand fine horses—served only them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that time, the Saracens demanded Christians place their horses in the Great Stable for joint care and feeding, but Geoffroy firmly refused. Some may have secretly mocked these Christians as cowardly fools.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, as the noisy crowd drew nearer, every Christian knight silently prayed to God and cast grateful glances at Geoffroy. The riot had stirred a band of unknown Fatah or Emir soldiers to remember this place. They attacked the Great Stable, selecting the finest horses for themselves—perhaps taking one or two—but leaving most behind, unable to transport them or find a merchant to sell them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So they did something cruel: they swiftly slaughtered the remaining horses and set fire to the stable. Drenched in blood, they proudly brandished blazing torches, exclaiming loudly over their luck.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fortunately, eyes adjusted to bright light could not detect the knights standing silently in the darkness of the olive grove. The rioters passed by, shouting and clamoring; the nearest soldier, had he merely turned his head, could have seen Cesar just a hundred feet away—but he did not.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Throughout, Cesar and his knights made not a sound. They waited patiently until the mob had passed, then rode out of the olive grove into the cobalt light.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The soldiers guarding the Lions’ Gate happened to be those bribed by Kamal. Upon seeing the Christian knights, they immediately went on alert—but their leader soon spotted Kamal stepping aside from behind Cesar, revealing his face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My lord,” he exclaimed in astonishment, “how are you here?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Let them pass,” Kamal ordered wearily, without answering. “At this moment, he is not our enemy. I hired them to escort us out of Acre.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The word “us” caught the soldier’s attention. Then he recognized several familiar faces—every minister passed through the Lions’ Gate. “Why?” he asked instinctively. “The new Sultan will need you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I do not think so,” came the reply—not from Kamal, but another minister. Until now, he had managed the entire kingdom’s finances for his lord, Nur al-Din, and all the people of Syria.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He twisted his body in an odd posture. Only then did the soldier realize he was bound to a knight’s back by a belt. As the soldier puzzled over this, the old man raised his hands—or rather, his arms—bare, with no hands remaining. “The Second Prince cut them off,” he said. “He demanded money. He didn’t believe the treasury held so little.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But it was true. Sultan Nur al-Din had spent unimaginable sums to launch his campaign against Arsal, and those funds were meant to be replenished gradually over the coming years. After all, every province in Syria continuously sent gold, silver, and silk to Acre.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the Second Prince did not believe it. He thought the old man was either lying or had allied with his elder brother—or had embezzled the money. He tortured him, and when he failed to extract the answer he wanted, he severed one hand, then the other.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You ask why Kamal is here? If he weren’t here, I might already have lost my hands, my feet, and my head.” This minister was upright and revered. Even a gatekeeper knew he was indispensable to the court. He had repeatedly petitioned Sultan Nur al-Din to retire due to age and frailty—but Nur al-Din had always refused, for no one more honest or wise could be found to fill his post.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But surely the First Prince still lives.” He stammered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The First Prince is no better,” another minister said, pointing to a man beside him—one of their colleagues, whose tongue had been cut out by the First Prince. What crime had he committed? None. He had simply refused to speak words he did not believe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But where can you go if you leave Acre?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Anywhere. Syria is vast. If all else fails…” Kamal paused, then fell silent. “But if they stay here, they will surely die. So if you are still a Saracen, if you still wish to preserve even a sliver of life for this great dynasty, open the gate and let us go.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The guard fell silent, glancing at his comrades. They stepped back two paces; several ran to open the gate. They were convinced by Kamal. Cesar exhaled slightly. He would not waste even a moment here. Acre was a powder keg ready to explode—he dared not gamble on how much time God had left them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet before entering the tunnel, he cautiously looked up at the grated openings above. Above these openings ran another tunnel, connecting to small rooms on the walls. When enemies attacked or the Sultan wished to eliminate an overambitious man, he ordered soldiers to pour boiling sewage or molten oil through these openings, instantly scalding those below into bleeding, mangled ruin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fortunately, these soldiers were sincere. Cesar led his knights swiftly through. The path between the Lions’ Gate and the South Gate (Sultan’s Gate) remained perilous—but now, most soldiers had accepted bribes or been recruited by the two princes and were fighting for their Sultan. Few remained behind, and the eunuchs and servants dared only cower in their rooms, afraid even to peek.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet before the Sultan’s Gate stood a small force: Nubian slave soldiers under a Fatah. Not long ago, their master had defected to the First Prince, swearing to eliminate the two troublesome blood relatives. Tonight, he ordered them to stand guard here—not for Cesar’s group. If the Second Prince had not died behind the Rose Gate or the Lions’ Gate, he would die at the Sultan’s Gate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Saracen soldiers raised their spears upon seeing them. But Cesar spurred his horse forward, arriving in an instant. To their shock, what flashed in the light was not sword or blade—but gold coins, tossed carelessly, at least a hundred, clattering loudly to the ground. That sound was more beautiful than any music in the world. Several soldiers immediately dropped their weapons, lunging to snatch the coins from beneath the horses’ hooves and shove them into their clothes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Other soldiers roared—not from seeing enemies, but because their comrades dared ignore them and rushed to seize the glittering pieces first.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet they need not despair, for Cesar tossed another handful of coins. They rolled and scattered everywhere, tumbling into cracks and crevices, making the soldiers even more frantic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The knights and some attendants dismounted to open the Sultan’s Gate. But at that moment, the unit’s captain revealed a greedy look. He did not step aside—he shouted for his men to pick up their spears again. “They have more! More! More gold! Don’t let them go!” he cried. But his voice seemed not to reach his soldiers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar heard it. And Cesar’s response was swift. He spurred forward. No one saw how he swung his sword—but the captain, spear and all, was split cleanly in two. His upper half fell to the ground, face still twisted in disbelief, as if utterly unable to comprehend how it had happened.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, the heavy gate was pushed open. Beneath the pure, deep blue light lay steep stairs, roads, and buildings that appeared especially gray and angular.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A Saracen man, inexplicably on the street, saw them and raised his hand as if to shout—but suddenly his head tilted sideways, then his whole body followed. An arrow pierced his skull. But this was not the work of any knight—it was a band of Turks, swords and bows in hand, pulling their face coverings tight, leaving only their eyes visible, fierce and cruel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They too saw the Christian knights. Cesar gave them no time to react. He charged at them, his knights at his side, trampling them beneath hooves and cutting them down with blades in an instant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2041,"2026-06-20T20:58:34.857Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","ae1a583cdd3378b08a104e00be1369ff6840e7754c24e953a512059c7035bdc7","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-154","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-152",168,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-cover.jpg"]