[{"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-75":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},2333043,4562,"Chapter 75: To Egypt! (6)","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-75",75,"\u003Cp>A pair of eyes peered out through layers of dense, tangled reeds and papyrus leaves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On a flat stretch of ground not far from the small lake, the savage Franks had set up a temporary camp, lighting bonfires that illuminated the dark sand and water.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From the observer’s vantage point, he could see the group consisted of roughly twenty to thirty men: only three knights clad in chainmail, twice as many squires, and three times as many armed attendants.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These attendants also served as grooms and laborers; once the campsite was chosen, they went to fetch water, gather fuel, and search for food.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the center, surrounded by them and facing the fire, was a noblewoman accompanied by two maids.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had all arrived on horseback; not even the knights’ mounts were remarkable, but the noblewoman’s horse was a rare Arabian.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It had a broad forehead, a long muzzle, small ears standing straight, large round eyes reflecting the firelight as if burning, long limbs and well-developed tendons—a pure white Arabian, exceedingly rare, with only a single black star on its forehead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The observer stared longingly at the horse for a long time before reluctantly turning away; among the Franks’ party was also a Roman four-wheeled cart and two two-wheeled carts, all used solely for carrying supplies, since there were no flat roads between here and Gaza Rafah.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The noblewoman seemed perpetually consumed by grief, so weak that the knights had to lift her down from her mount; her maids spread a thick, soft beaver pelt over a chest, then layered it with glossy silk before letting her sit—but even then she could not balance, needing to lean against one maid’s shoulder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The observer watched a while longer, then slowly sank into the water, diving to the lakebed, leaving only faint ripples before vanishing without a sound.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>————\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Are you certain she is a true noblewoman?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Facing the leader’s stern interrogation, the observer nodded without hesitation. “The knights serve her as the lowliest slaves serve their mistress—they hand her golden cups, carve her the finest cuts of meat. She shows no appetite, her face heavy with sorrow, and her grief has cast sorrow over the entire party.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That can be faked,” the leader said. He noticed hesitation in his scout’s expression; he trusted the young man’s loyalty and hatred, but he knew the savage Franks were not without wit—they had lost their wives, sisters, and daughters. How could they possibly expose a dove to the sight of hawks unless this was a sweet bait?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But she…” the observer said in a tone both indescribable and bitter with resentment: “she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The leader paused. “Your sister was once called crushed musk, congealed morning dew. Even after her death at the hands of the Franks, countless still mourned her voice and face…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I wish I could describe her with the foulest words, like those Frankish courtesans we captured,” the observer said, “but I cannot deceive my eyes, nor betray my heart.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The leader’s expression turned grave. “Then has your anger not surpassed it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No,” the observer placed his hand on his chest as if to tear it out: “The more I see such beauty, the more my heart aches and hates. The Franks stole my treasure—I will steal theirs, tear her apart, and throw her before them, so they may suffer as I do.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes,” the leader said. “This is what we must do. Eye for eye, blood for blood.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stepped away from the observer to find the elder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This band, a thorn in the Franks’ eyes and a dagger in their flesh, did not come from a village or a city—they were the bitter fruit of the Franks’ accumulated sins.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though Amalric I strained to control his knights, even Walter proves he is merely one among the noble military council with greater influence—he cannot make laws or punish criminals, only lure them with hunts, tournaments, noblewomen, and the looming prizes of Bilebes and then Fostat, like dangling a carrot before a donkey.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But that means if these donkeys grow tired of carrots, or believe fresher fruit tastes better, he holds no power over them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To be honest, Amalric I is not a particularly cruel monarch, but the army could not sustain itself solely on the roads of Alarasa, Gaza Rafah, or naval supplies; livestock, wheat and barley, palm oil, even cloth and furs—all were plundered from Saracen villages.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some knights still retain a shred of mercy, leaving behind essential seeds and rations; though insufficient, they may sustain the farmers through the coming months.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But most knights, when on their own lands, would squeeze the last bean from their Christian serfs—how much more so on infidel soil?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And those beasts like Longinus encountered… as the Saracen said, they are like the venom of aconite, strychnine, and cobra—once poured into a cup, no matter how rich or sweet the wine, it becomes a dreadful poison.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every night flames rose from villages, each fire kindling more hatred—this hatred could only be washed clean with blood. They sent surviving women and children elsewhere, staying behind to inflict upon the Franks equal terror and sorrow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the elder did not support this. “The Prophet never taught us thus. You were once a ‘Kayyad’ in the army—a captain over fifty men—you should know…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I know. The Prophet taught us that even in the fiercest battle, never lose the heart of a believer. He taught us that war is merely a means to guide people toward truth—bloodshed and wailing were never our goal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If they submit and pay tribute, we will not plunder their civilians, kill their women, children, or elders, nor destroy their temples. They may keep their gods. If we sign a covenant, we will honor every clause.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this, the leader twisted his lips into a grim smile.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But that is for humans! Not for beasts!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So you will become a beast too!? Will you turn these children into beasts!? Or do you think I pity those savage women and daughters!?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The elder shouted back, leaping up with a speed unfit for his age, gripping the leader’s tunic collar and pressing his face to the leader’s. “No, no, no! Look! Look at these boys! They only wanted revenge—to show the Franks that the Saracen blade cuts sharper than theirs!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But what have they become now?! They’ve turned as base and greedy as their enemies! I beg you!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even now, the elder kept his voice low, yet each word tore from his heart: “I beg you—take them to Fostat, to Caliph Adid. If you scorn his Grand Vizier Shawar, or refuse to trust him, take these children to Damascus, to Zengi’s Shirkuh and Saladin!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Join their armies, fight your enemies honorably, not wallow in the bosoms of Frankish women! No matter which blade you plunge into their bodies!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The leader glared at him, eyes blazing. He wanted to deny it, to rage at the elder’s humiliation—but he only gasped—had he not noticed? At first, they only wished to make the Franks taste the bitterness they had known. But when had the young men begun to relish plunder and rape?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He trembled with anguish.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If this continued, these young warriors would be truly lost.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Fine, fine!” he surrendered, lowering his arms: “One last time,” he swore to the elder: “This is the last time—we take the knight’s daughter, demand ransom. I will not allow the boys to defile her or harm her life. Once we have the ransom, we will settle our women and children, equip ourselves with armor and weapons, and head to Damascus!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The elder exhaled slowly. The leader’s words held some sense. “I’m coming with you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The leader paused. “Why? Don’t you trust me?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I trust you,” the elder said, “but you must understand why I am so afraid. In my dream, I saw the Prophet Musa—he pointed at me in fury, as if I were a sinner leading you all to death.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The leader truly hesitated now. Among them, only the elder had seen the Prophet, heard his teachings—and every prior advice he gave had led them to the right path.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If the elder merely opposed their revenge, he might have thought it an old man’s overcaution—but if it was the Prophet Musa’s warning…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He nearly called off the mission.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>——————\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Walter let out a snicker.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What’s so funny? Cesar thought, stone-faced. Isn’t this the very scheme you encouraged?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fishing was never a tactic unique to his world or era; he merely hinted, and Amalric I and Templar Walter immediately grasped it—and thought it brilliant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Cesar’s original plan, the noblewoman decoy could have been a young squire—if he were still nine, he might have volunteered himself—he never wanted others to risk their lives for his schemes—but now he was thirteen!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thirteen was bad enough, but he and Baldwin had grown so tall!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Clearly, Walter had not forgotten the humiliation he suffered three years ago at Cesar’s hands and had been scheming revenge ever since. Now he seized his chance: he not only persuaded the king himself, but dragged Geoffrey along. Geoffrey was a mischief-maker; together they convinced Amalric I.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He promised that if Cesar agreed to play the decoy, upon his return he would be promoted from squire to squire-in-training—and then, somehow, Elena’s husband and her knight Gerard had heard of it (Geoffrey and Walter: you’re welcome!), and rushed over to thank Cesar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not only thanks—they learned the king intended to raise Cesar to squire-in-training, and one immediately offered him armor worth two hundred gold coins, the other a sword worth a hundred.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar didn’t care about these gifts: “How are you going to make the Saracens believe a noblewoman is six feet tall? (One point nine meters)”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh,” Walter grinned wickedly, “we’ll find a way.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>First they found two tall squires to serve as “Lady Damara’s” maids, then urgently dressed Cesar in a long robe, turban, and veil—luckily, men’s and women’s clothing differed little then: both wore long tunics beneath long-sleeved or sleeveless cloaks, belted, wrapped in turbans…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, led by Damara, the noblewomen adorned Cesar with a jeweled gold belt, silk ribbons tied at wrists and ankles, layered necklaces, rings, and bracelets—until Cesar protested it hindered his movement, and they stopped.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet dressed thus, when seated, Cesar truly resembled the “most beautiful lady” worthy of a crown from the strongest knight at a tournament.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But since he couldn’t stand, in the coming operation he would either have to ride or remain seated.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I thought I heard some sounds,” Geoffrey approached, crouching to part a broad reed leaf revealing dates and juniper berries. Cesar pinched a few into his mouth and asked: “People?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Probably. Too large to be fish.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Crocodiles?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Crocodiles aren’t that small,” Geoffrey sighed. “The birds here are either shot or scared off—otherwise they wouldn’t get so close to the unfortunate.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Will they come tonight?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Geoffrey jabbed Cesar with a finger: “Don’t sit up—you’re nearly as tall as I am crouching!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar slumped back, the squire he leaned against shaking with suppressed laughter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They won’t come too close. When the scout returns with word, they’ll rush in—that’s the perfect moment for an ambush—before dawn, when men are drowsy and alertness gone—wait,” he suddenly grinned, “looks like not everyone sticks to the rules!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Geoffrey stood, his shadow falling over Cesar—so Cesar didn’t see the enemy burst from the woods at first, but he heard their cries.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Revenge!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1918,"2026-06-20T20:58:34.857Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","0118f58e90c003117bac01ed4515c5b30230c9077bbe281b7abc5df61e35031d","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-76","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-74",168,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-cover.jpg"]