[{"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-79":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},2333047,4562,"Chapter 79: The Fate of Those Who Bargain with Tigers","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-79",79,"\u003Cp>Since Cesar became Baldwin’s brother, those around him—Amalric I and Heraclius, along with the knights—began teasing him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After observing, he realized this teasing carried no malice; it was instead a privilege reserved for juniors, a way they showed closeness—but this time, the teasing carried a different meaning.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A dangerously different meaning.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He did not answer Amalric I’s question, nor did Amalric I need an answer; Cesar lowered his head and silently began to pray. On the other side, Baldwin had made the same preparations.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Others sensed something was wrong, except the young man still standing in the center of the courtyard, lost in his fantasy of power and status.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The smiles on the faces of the Saracens had vanished. They looked at Amalric I in confusion; the king’s blue eyes, like steel burned by flame, glinted with cruel mockery.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In an instant, they understood everything. Some collapsed to the ground; others knelt before Amalric I; only one leapt up and shouted, “You swore an oath! Amalric I, you swore an oath!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Amalric I answered only with a contemptuous smile, he shattered completely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He hurled the water cup he had been clutching at Amalric I; the heavy silver cup flew through the air, deflected by a prepared hand—slender, yet covered in faint holy light.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do you intend to assassinate your sovereign?” the king asked coldly. The reply was the drawing of a dagger from the man’s side.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In this age, in this world, no one searched guests or confiscated weapons at Christian feasts; some knights even wore chainmail, either to show off (gilded or silvered mail) or because they had taken vows—like the Templars, who were bound by law never to remove their armor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone carried a dagger, used at banquets to cut meat, yet equally sharp enough to kill.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Saracens beside them wore their traditional weapon—the curved blade known as Tiger’s Tooth, worn from the age of thirteen upon adulthood, never set down, not even allowed to be touched by women.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But what good was it, even with the blade clutched tight in his hand?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before he could charge forward, Baldwin’s Spear of Saint George pierced his chest; the hall erupted in chaos—pleas, cries, accusations, curses—and two Saracen nobles hastily tore off their headscarves and lifted their robes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They shouted, “We are not Saracens! We are not Saracens! We are Ishmaelites!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I turned away in disgust, refusing to look at the filthy organs exposed, and instructed the two children: “See? Remember to find a priest to wash your eyes with holy water.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The knights needed no order from the king—they killed the two men on the spot. When the Crusaders first entered Jerusalem, they had regarded Ishmaelites as dogs who had betrayed the Saracens; Amalric I would not keep such a serpent, ready to turn on its master, near him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet now Amalric I finally understood why Bilebes had deteriorated so badly. Though he had wrapped his vile intentions in lavish words, he had already prepared to storm Bilebes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only just now, until this moment, did he comprehend the Saracens’ scheme.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps their too-peaceful withdrawal earlier had given them an illusion: they believed that since Amalric I was Lord of the Holy Land, King of Arasal, even if he captured Egyptian cities like Bilebes or Fustat, he would return home.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If he returned, wouldn’t the vacant throne be meant for someone else to sit upon?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If a mere payment could secure that supreme position, why not take it?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Amalric I turned his gaze to the young man standing in the courtyard, he had awakened from his dream; the stench of blood filled his nose, the clashing of blades and the dying screams echoed endlessly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All color drained from his face; he now looked like a portrait of pure terror and shock.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked at Amalric I, clinging to a sliver of hope: “Please, do not harm me, do not kill me! My bloodline descends from Fatima, daughter of Muhammad. I am the cousin of Caliph Adid! Spare me—ask him for ransom, he will pay any sum!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I regarded him with interest. Of course—Fatimids always claimed legitimacy; a young man placed on the caliphate by such men could not belong to the “traditionalist” faction that believed virtue alone deserved rule, or else their own foundation would crumble.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But cousin? Adid’s father left him no such calamity; this youth might have a trace of blood, but how distant, only these men knew.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They merely relied on the certainty that once he breached Fustat, he would kill Caliph Adid and most of his loyal ministers—then they could turn truth upside down, call a deer a horse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I… I am rich, very rich. I can pay my own ransom. If you need me to acknowledge your authority, your legitimacy—my lord—I will kneel at your robe, kiss your feet, lead your horse, I will be your slave…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I merely shook his head. He pushed past Cesar and stepped before the young man: “Since you are a descendant of Fatima…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hope flared in the young man’s eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Amalric I’s next move was to swing his sword and sever the youth’s head; even as it flew through the air, the head retained a smile of relief.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Unfortunately,” the king said, “according to your own logic, I too am a traditionalist.” The body collapsed only after the words were spoken.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I no longer looked at him. He led the two children out. The palace stood atop the highest point of the city, divided into three levels, each separated by strict walls. The lowest level housed a temple and ancillary buildings; the second, the residences of ministers and kin; the topmost, the caliph and his concubines.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As they looked down upon the city, they saw fire blazing across one-third of it—belonging to nobles and wealthy merchants, just like the two Ishmaelite nobles who had mingled among the guests.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Are you wondering what will become of the Saracen commoners?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I suddenly said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That is precisely what I wish to ask.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Baldwin spoke before Cesar could: “I said,” Amalric I replied, gazing at him meaningfully, “as long as they swear allegiance and do not become our enemies, I permit them to ransom themselves.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was perhaps a more palatable, gentler approach than outright plunder. When a city was taken without heavy cost, the conqueror often allowed nobles and citizens to buy back themselves and their families with ransom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Amalric I had no intention of extending this mercy to Bilebes’s nobles. He had long seen through it—ever since he accepted Grand Vizier Shawar’s plea years ago, then received another letter from a different Grand Vizier urging him to march, he knew the empire was utterly rotten, beyond repair.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if they tore each other apart in court, even if they fought to the death, they should never have appealed to true enemies—or naively believed a few coins could make him abandon his faith and honor, then obediently retreat to his own lands after achieving great victories.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet they believed it. Perhaps in their world, nothing was beyond the reach of money.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But what of the nobles and officials in Fustat?” Baldwin asked, concerned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No matter what I do—even if I declare I will return Bilebes to its people—they will not believe me. Fustat is the Fatimid capital, their last refuge. Lose Fustat, and they lose everything. They will resist with all their strength. Prepare yourselves, children.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only then will the real war begin.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>————————\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The massacre targeting Bilebes’s upper and middle classes began at vespers and ended only at matins the next day.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the Saracen nobles and Ishmaelite merchants drank wine with Amalric I, they likely never imagined their families lay dead on the ground, their blood flowing as red and sweet as wine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They lit torches and candles in the palace, illuminating the hall as bright as daylight—yet never imagined their own homes were also ablaze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These fires rose and died, like their lives. When morning light again shone upon those opulent residences, it revealed only blackened ash—cold, loose, floating, scattered by the wind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were foxes living in dense forests, believing themselves clever, yet blind to the reality before them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Why had Amalric I been so lenient with them before? Because at that time, he realized continuing the assault on Fustat during the flood season was impossible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But would he abandon his ambition? Of course not. Even before leaving Bilebes, he had already planned his next campaign.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So he left Bilebes behind—the weak city. Why slaughter it entirely? Kill these hollow, cowardly, greedy men and replace them with another group of Saracens filled with hatred and dread?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I did not consider himself that foolish. So he departed, even if it earned him the reputation of a failed conqueror, mocked for returning empty-handed—he cared nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He waited for today.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He no longer needed Bilebes—or rather, he no longer needed these pigs and sheep he had nurtured with ambition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On them, he saw no Saracen spirit or blood, only hollow shells corroded by Ishmaelite merchants.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were like thistledown drifting in the wind, swaying left toward Fatimid Grand Viziers, right toward Zengid Nur ad-Din, then again toward Christian Amalric I.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet ultimately, it was not their fault. The Fatimid dynasty itself was already crumbling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They knew they were inviting wolves into their home, yet clung to the vile thought that betraying nation and faith would still secure them wealth and power.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Precisely because he saw this, Amalric I did not spare them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He paid no mind to the curses of these homeless dogs—accusing him of breaking oaths, slaughtering allies, destined for retribution—or as Baldwin feared, provoking a violent reaction from Fustat…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From the start, he never believed he could deceive the caliph and Grand Vizier Shawar of Fustat into total submission as he had Bilebes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If he could, he would not have summoned so many. Everyone knew that when cornered at the cliff’s edge, even the meekest lamb will lower its head, raise its horns, and fight to the death. With no such restraint, why should it be strange that he removed these unruly elements from Bilebes?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>————————\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The next day, Baldwin and Cesar grew busy. Like the knights loyal to Amalric I, they formed patrols to sweep the city.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>According to the council’s agreement—all property in the city belonged to Amalric I (interpretation rights reserved to the king). Of course, Amalric I was not stingy; every knight who followed him received a generous reward, for a brutal siege lay ahead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This meant he forbade random killing, looting, and rape—such acts would spark full-city rebellion, causing loss of life and supplies; unnecessary complications were the last thing Amalric I needed now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Christians, Saracens, and Ishmaelites were swiftly separated. Though they were told to pay their own ransoms, in truth, they were not permitted to retain anything—clothing, sheep, cattle, horses, houses, land, furniture, anything of value.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These patrols were necessary; many conflicts arose from personal greed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Knights far from home had no interest in wearing masks. They coveted some cherished object the townsfolk tried to hide, or their sons or daughters, and brazenly claimed to be purifying infidels as they seized the children.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some endured silently; others drew their swords without hesitation. If they killed or wounded a knight or squire, the entire family would be executed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But if they encountered Cesar’s patrol—even if Cesar merely stood quietly watching—the knights’ cruelty and desires would immediately subside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had heard of him—though those he saved might not know he once walked alone before Templar Walter, urging him to fight Amalric I openly rather than gamble with the lives of ordinary people to force the king’s retreat; nor that he used this deed to bargain with Amalric I for the lives of servants, laborers, craftsmen, and battlefield survivors…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the knights knew. His story had spread: how he performed forty-five days of penance in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, then distributed its fruits to the entire city; how he fought alongside Prince Baldwin to slay a mad she-bear during the Byzantine princess’s reception; and most recently, how he disguised himself as a noblewoman to help knights exterminate a band of cunning Saracen butchers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>People said he was the mortal closest to sainthood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Anyone still possessing a shred of conscience felt filthy and exposed beneath his green gaze; their inner fire died, their desires dimmed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And if they wanted a gold ring or a copper bracelet, Cesar would not interfere.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But if they wanted a resident’s child, wife, or sister, Cesar intervened—these people belonged to Amalric I as slaves; if they desired them, fine—register them first, then pay for them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But what if they already ransomed themselves?” a knight grumbled, one without a heart, ignoring the king’s edict—he coveted this family’s young daughter, a girl of seven or eight with almond-shaped eyes, milky skin, and curly brown hair, somewhat like Damara.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You may appeal to the king. It’s fine,” Cesar said politely, but did not yield. The knight glanced at Prince Baldwin, standing behind Cesar, arms crossed, smiling silently, and left sullenly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Go,” Cesar said. The Saracen family looked at him with a complex expression, unsure whether to thank him—he was a thief, taking all their wealth and property—but he had left them their most precious thing—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar did not need their thanks. He was not that shameless.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Would these knights report him to Amalric I?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No. Everyone knew they claimed to be redeeming pitiable souls, yet only sought to enjoy tender flesh. They could kill infidels, but never be controlled by evil desire.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To speak out would only bring merciless mockery; his lord would lose trust in him, his comrades would shun him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But they will certainly hate you,” Baldwin said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Let them hate. There are plenty who dislike me,” Cesar said, unconcerned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, they heard a commotion from nearby.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2323,"2026-06-20T20:58:34.857Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","529b2aa5cae4f28e8912551c2f42b25fe5e364fae8e209b7b9431f70ea8cff5b","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-80","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-78",168,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-cover.jpg"]