[{"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-35":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},2333003,4562,"Chapter 35: The Mithridatium (Part One)","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-35",35,"\u003Cp>Geoffrey watched Cesar pick up the money pouch and fasten it to his belt, nodding in satisfaction; as an old knight, nothing annoyed him more than speaking to fools, whether within the Order or outside it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He noticed the boy seemed to have something else to say after securing the pouch: “Is there anything else you need help with?” He couldn’t think of anything—had he been in the boy’s place, the greatest thing would be to leave the cursed place called Holy Cross Castle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I have a servant,” Cesar said, “who guarded me while I did penance at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And then?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He is a wandering knight, but with a surname and lineage; he has been in the Holy Land for years, always wanting to join the Crusaders but never succeeding.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You want him to join us?” That was difficult, Geoffrey frowned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the early days of the Knights Templar, almost any knight could join, but fifty years later, the Templar Order had become a golden mountain of the Holy Sepulchre, no longer needing outsiders to add glory—it was now the other way around: those who joined gained great benefits.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So joining the Order was harder than joining the Church—you needed power, wealth, or land; a penniless wandering knight with no backing stood no chance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He doesn’t harbor such grand hopes,” Cesar said, “just let him train with the Templars for a while.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Geoffrey raised an eyebrow: “For a while?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He will leave after January 6th.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Does your prince know?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Geoffrey suddenly wore a wry smile, which then turned light and cheerful: “Good,” he said, his mailed hand crossing the table to land heavily on Cesar’s shoulder, instantly darkening and sealing the space around them: “Perhaps you’re too young, or perhaps Baldwin is too young—you both haven’t yet realized what a king, a man with infinite power, can become?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You revere your master—that is admirable. Yet to retain your own capacity for thought and moral judgment on that foundation? Not everyone can do it. Some are like stubborn guinea pigs, refusing to stop until they’ve smashed their heads bloody.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sat back in his chair: “You mean the black-clad knight who’s been trailing us? I agree. Bring him in.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You noticed him?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I noticed him from the drawbridge. He’s clever and nimble—but I am a warrior of Christ,” Geoffrey pointed to his head, “how can one deal with Saracens as sly as foxes without being vigilant?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar couldn’t help showing a hint of admiration; Geoffrey felt a surge of satisfaction. After all, when a child displays wisdom beyond his years—even beyond adults—it brings joy, yet also a quiet pang of defeat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To see a child’s genuine expression at this age—had he not feared drunkenness, the Templar might have called the tavern keeper again and ordered several more large mugs of ale to drink heartily.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Longinus had been waiting outside the tavern since early morning; as soon as Cesar called, he ran in. Seeing Cesar and the knight in the white robe’s expressions, he knew the matter was settled. He immediately moved to kneel and kiss Geoffrey’s mailed glove, but Geoffrey grabbed him by the arm: “Just a bow between brothers.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The quartermaster just complained to me about lacking hands to organize the storerooms,” Geoffrey said. “You have a guarantor I trust—I expect you to be worthy of that trust.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I will never betray his faith in me,” Longinus said earnestly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What is your name?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You may call me Longinus for now. Before I came, I swore an oath: until I’ve accomplished something—at least severed three Saracen heads—I will not reclaim my original surname and name.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then you’re quite fortunate,” Geoffrey stroked his clean chin. “Give him a gold coin. Have him shave his beard, change into a clean robe, and do well,” he told Longinus. “If you do well, you might even earn a place in the Order.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Longinus said: “To stand among the knights of God—even for just three days—is glory enough to preach about for my entire life.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Geoffrey snorted: “When did the Templar Order become so unappealing?” Yet deep down, he truly preferred people like Cesar and Longinus—those who didn’t immediately glisten with greed and eagerness at the chance to join the Templars. It was a contradictory feeling, yet utterly real.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He said no more, simply waved his hand and walked out of the tavern. Longinus looked at Cesar, who nodded.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They mounted their horses. Longinus struggled not to laugh. Since first seeing this boy with green eyes and black hair, he had never seen him lose composure—not even when facing assassins, nor when surrounded by hundreds of destitute pilgrims…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But today, Cesar sat atop his small horse Ma Kastor, noticeably shorter than them all—unbearably… adorable. Only now did Longinus realize: the master he followed was still a child.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s going on?” Geoffrey muttered. The street they passed had always been crowded, but now it was utterly packed. He had come to speak frankly with Cesar and brought no attendants—Longinus immediately dismounted, drew his scabbard, and struck the sluggish crowd, “reminding” them to clear a path.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They’ve caught two men trying to sabotage the market,” Geoffrey could vaguely see shifting shadows and movements, guessing what had happened.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The market always had an open space for publicly punishing merchants who evaded taxes or sold counterfeit goods. The two merchants who had sold spoiled wine and dead birds were still drinking their wine, their bodies already reddened by the cold; the other was still eating his dead bird. Now, between them stood a woman. She was ragged, kneeling on the ground, while two men dug a pit beside her, preparing to bury her alive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The market inspector spotted the white robe and red cross. He quickly dispersed the crowd, telling them to wait before coming to watch the spectacle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The crime of sabotaging the market was severe: men were hanged, women buried alive. But as Cesar rode his small horse Ma Kastor past, the woman suddenly lifted her head and glanced at him. Cesar froze. Geoffrey, who had been watching him closely, noticed: “Do you know her?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In truth, Cesar wouldn’t have remembered her if not for his sharp memory; most poor people then were unkempt and ugly. “She’s the woman whose child was sick.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Geoffrey smiled. So she was the special actress arranged by the monk Heraclius. He wondered whether Heraclius and Amalric I would regret what had happened. He looked at Cesar: “Do you want to save her?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What happened?” Cesar asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was simple enough: the courtesan had quarreled with a customer, stumbled in the scuffle, and fell onto a stall—luckily, it was a dye merchant’s stall. All the goods spilled onto the ground, mixed with the broken jars, staining everything.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though the woman hadn’t meant to, she couldn’t afford to compensate the merchant for the dye, so she was sentenced as if she had deliberately sabotaged the market.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The dye merchant complained nearby: he didn’t truly want anyone to die—he just lost all his dye. With no compensation, his business was ruined. Who would pity him for his ruin?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar glanced at the empty, overturned stall. Black, white, green, and yellow dyes indeed flowed across the muddy ground. Though no expensive red, indigo, or purple was visible, the sum was certainly beyond this woman’s means.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He hesitated—but then someone recognized him. Immediately, someone offered to pay the fine for the courtesan. The dye merchant instantly shed his gloom, no longer mourning his dye; he only asked that this pious good man bless a few trinkets near him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Geoffrey muttered a low curse. The merchant was clever indeed: those jars of dye together weren’t worth more than three silver coins. But any trinket blessed by the “Little Saint,” if taken back to Europe with the story, could fetch one or two gold coins.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar did not agree to bless the merchant’s trinkets. Instead, he paid for the dye and quickly left before the crowd gathered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The market inspector sighed, impressed by the courtesan’s luck. He pulled out a few copper coins and gave them to the diggers, waving them off irritably—along with the woman. She vanished swiftly from sight, while voices around her scolded her for not thanking the saint, not thanking God, not sincerely repenting her sins.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But she knew the boy wasn’t a saint. She had her child—both hired to perform for others. Her child had never recovered, or rather, she didn’t want to raise him. She had eaten the date herself. She only wanted to live.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What was his name again—oh.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>————————\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Count Etienne departed on the Feast of the Holy Innocents. Though Amalric I sincerely begged him to stay longer, the count already knew Amalric I planned to hold the “Selection Ceremony” for Prince Baldwin on January 6th.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He knew with his knees what kind of chaos that day would bring. As an outsider, who knew what conspiracy might fall upon him? Especially now that he knew his enemies weren’t just evil—they were stupid, and utterly reckless.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He never saw Cesar again before leaving, nor would Cesar likely remember the count.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The most important, most critical, and most deadly preparation came before the “Selection Ceremony.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was a secret known only among the elite.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The “Selection Ceremony” could only be held in a church. Ordinary churches carried a high risk of failure. To be “chosen,” one must best perform the ritual in a great cathedral that housed true relics, had been recognized by the Roman Church, and was revered by kings, lords, and countless faithful.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The child undergoing the trial must fast for three days before the ceremony, bathe daily, pray at set times, then kneel before the altar, silently reciting the Lord’s Prayer until he felt the descent of a saint or angel—who would guide him along his destined path and grant him abilities beyond mortal men.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once the child entered the cathedral, he could not leave for a full day and night before being “chosen.” To step out meant failure—and no future chance to hold the “Selection Ceremony,” not even if you were the emperor’s or king’s only son.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this created a problem: not all children could be as calm and patient as Baldwin or Cesar. Despite the upper age limit of fourteen, there were plenty of fools like Abigail. So when nobles desired a satisfactory result… they naturally resorted to every means possible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The most common method was the use of drugs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stimulants, sedatives, tonics, controllers… but few monks could achieve this. Either the drugs failed, or the dosage was too high, or the preparation was overdone, killing the user outright…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It is called the Mithridatium,” Heraclius said, holding up a small glass vial for Baldwin and Cesar to see. The bottle was no longer than a finger, swollen in the middle, holding about three ounces of liquid. “The name comes from a legend: in 120 BC, the King of Pontus held a grand banquet to celebrate his son’s birthday. During the feast, Mithridates V was poisoned and died before his guests and his own son.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That became Mithridates VI’s lifelong nightmare. He feared being poisoned himself, so he hired physicians to create weaker poisons, taking them daily to build immunity—his plan worked. Yet it led to his tragic end: when Pontus fell, his suicide by poison failed, forcing him to beg his servant to kill him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mithridates VI died, his kingdom fell, but the formula endured. Legend says Queen Cleopatra of Egypt used it. Nero’s mother, Agrippina the Younger, used it. Egyptian snake handlers used it too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I received this formula from my teacher, then spent over a decade refining and improving it. Its effects are immediate. But because it is so potent, I cannot give it to you too early—in my prior trials, those who took it for more than ten days died.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He placed the glass vial before them. “But it still causes hallucinations and pain—who will take it first?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2005,"2026-06-20T20:58:34.857Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","00d94c302993a36b9fda16894d015122cab40a0cfb0e381adad29acbc5abdf12","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-36","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-34",168,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-cover.jpg"]