[{"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-89":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},2333057,4562,"Chapter 89: Storming the City! (9)","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-89",89,"\u003Cp>The Tower of David did not disappoint Amalric I; just as Baldwin and Cesar, back-to-back and shoulder-to-shoulder, as two youths in their first battle, achieved a feat no one could believe—they led a band of knights as young as themselves and tore a narrow crack through the Saracen lines, as hard as iron.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was so small, but Richard immediately spotted it; he abandoned his current foe and rushed over to reinforce the breach alongside Baldwin and Cesar. The knight on the Tower of David tasked with lookout blew the horn at once, and the Crusader knights turned toward that spot and launched a full-scale assault.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They swarmed up the Tower of David like ants, climbing to its upper level and further expanding their gains.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And at the very moment they pushed the Saracens back, the battering ram at the base of the Tower of David finally let out its first thunderous roar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was made of rare olive wood, about nine feet in diameter; people said it might have grown for a thousand years in the olive groves around Fustat, and had it not been needed to break open Fustat’s defenses, it might have lived another thousand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was twenty feet long, bound with twelve thick iron hoops, and at its end sat a massive ram’s head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ram’s head had curved horns, a protruding snout, and exposed tusks, looking more like the head of a demon—perhaps that was precisely the craftsman’s intent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before hanging it with iron chains, people poured vinegar over it, just as they had soaked the ox and sheep hides covering the siege tower; the main ingredient of Greek fire was petroleum, and only vinegar could prevent its spread.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I had originally intended to augment it with torsion winches, but abandoned the idea because no rope could control such a monstrous weapon—instead, over a hundred strong soldiers would push it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Each man was muscle-bound and broad-shouldered; under the knights’ command, they repeatedly shoved the battering ram against the wall—these men needed to be swift and cautious as well.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the ram recoiled from the force of the thick wall, a single misstep could fling a man into the air; that man, like those Buxing  struck directly by stone projectiles or crossbow bolts, would have a caved-in chest, mangled flesh, and die instantly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet they were at least luckier than the earlier soldiers, for the Saracens above them had been cleared away; they no longer feared arrows, stones, or boiling excrement falling upon them, nor did anyone drop bags of straw and chaff to absorb the ram’s force and waste their effort.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under the brightest noon sunlight, the battering ram beneath the Tower of David unleashed its strongest impact; in an instant, the outer wall of Fustat’s double-layered fortifications collapsed, and suddenly, a vast, terrifying hole appeared in the gray stone wall that had seemed impregnable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The soldiers operating the ram all fell to the ground; before they could comprehend what had happened—mainly because the past few hours had been too exhausting and agonizing—the battering ram swung back aimlessly, like a knight who had lost his target.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their awakening came from the Saracens’ terrified screams; they leapt up at once, invigorated by the certainty of victory and the promised rewards.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beyond the broken outer wall lay the passageways and small chambers within, where soldiers sometimes moved or waited to ambush attackers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But before they could act, the pre-positioned light catapults and crossbows hurled stones and arrows at them; they immediately bled from the head, collapsed to the ground, and then the Christian soldiers rushed forward, hauling away broken stones and pushing the battering ram deeper.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The inner wall was far less thick than the outer; soon, a crack appeared. On the other side, several Saracens shouted for reinforcements, striking at anyone trying to widen the breach with a lit, smaller battering ram, then standing it upright to topple it toward the Christians, hoping to ignite the Tower of David.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hold on, hold on!” someone cried out; the Christians sought to press forward with one final push, while the Saracens fought desperately, dumping cartloads of rubble into the crack and pouring oil over it, setting the stones ablaze until they glowed red-hot, to block the advance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this moment, more Saracens surged onto the wall, fighting recklessly with the knights; the small catapults and crossbow carts fixed to the wall were dismantled and dragged here, becoming new threats.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Baldwin and Cesar had already been relieved; even if they were favored by the saints, could one man hold back a hundred, let alone a thousand or ten thousand? Besides, drawing too much attention was no advantage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Richard sat beside them, drinking chilled wine; even so, he burned like a coal, the wine not so much swallowed as poured onto a burning ember—*hiss*—gone in an instant!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, “those bastards are useless!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Baldwin did not agree with Richard; if anything, it was because Richard, Baldwin, and Cesar had shone so brightly that the reinforcements who followed looked dull by comparison.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But what they lacked was not courage, but talent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Moreover, the Saracens had since produced some troublesome figures—those “blades” who, like Baldwin, Cesar, and Richard, had received divine revelations and were unlike ordinary men; they had been dispatched to this section of the wall precisely because of Baldwin, Cesar, and Richard—but by then, they had already left.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The new knights who climbed the wall had indeed received God’s blessing, yet compared to them, they were merely mediocre—and thus could not withstand such pressure; they were either killed or fell from the wall, with only a handful retreating back into the Tower of David, which was now being withdrawn to avoid becoming a Saracen trophy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even so, some Saracens leapt into the air, landing calmly on the still-extended drawbridge, continuing to fight the knights.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Useless is useless—what excuses are you making?” another voice cut in; it was Walter, the Templar Knight, equally covered in ash and blood, his chainmail torn, hair wild, eyes bloodshot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He entered the tent; Richard handed him his cup. He nodded, took it, scooped a large measure of ice from the wooden chest, then poured a full cup of wine into it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My men are all cowards—pah, cowards, rabbits, rats!” he spat out in rapid succession.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I saw the Saracens heading toward the King’s Gate, so I ordered ladders raised to scale the wall together. To fight the Saracens and seize their city—I called out several times, and they only hesitated…” He drained the cup, gripping it tightly, “The perfect moment vanished!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Templars were responsible for the Victory Gate; Richard heard this and felt regret, but honestly, not everyone had the courage to sacrifice their life merely for God’s favor—more precisely, such favor held little value among ordinary men.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But these Saracens lied—they lowered some men from the wall to negotiate with us.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Who?” Baldwin asked; he stood beside Amalric I and had not seen any Saracen envoys.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I killed them all,” Walter said. “Though I failed to take the King’s Gate directly, it’s a pity, but children, we all see now—breaking the city is merely a matter of days.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The wall shattered by the battering ram could not be easily repaired; even if the Saracens had materials and manpower, Amalric I had already positioned ballistae and catapults, and the bags of straw and chaff previously hung from the wall had been seized and transported to the tunnel entrance near the Victory Gate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Long before the siege began, Amalric I had ordered tunnels dug; now they had reached beneath the city gate, where oak beams supported a sizable cavern packed with dry grass, branches, and other flammable materials, followed by thousands of jars of olive oil and lard, all ready to be ignited.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When to ignite them? Just wait for the moment the crowd erupts in cheers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The collapsed outer wall to the left of the King’s Gate remained unrepaired; on the right of the Victory Gate, the wall collapsed amid smoke and intense heat, creating a breach that connected the outer and inner walls. Every Saracen screamed in despair, while the Christian knights and soldiers surged forward, slaughtering each other wildly at the breach, blood flowing more copiously than the earlier olive oil, corpses piling into hills.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Victory was in sight; Amalric I’s authority reached a new peak, yet he now grew gentle and humble, even forbidding Baldwin and Cesar from returning to the most dangerous spots—they had proven their valor and piety, and the opportunity should now be given to others.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Indeed, the Saracens still resisted, but their resistance resembled a desperate bid to die alongside their enemy; this atmosphere of despair could not compare with the Crusaders’ soaring morale—everyone knew that perhaps by the next dawn, they would possess this beautiful, wealthy city.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yes—but not at dawn. At midnight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar and Baldwin, already asleep, were suddenly awakened, ordered to wash, dress, and adorn themselves as lavishly as possible. Then, Amalric I’s attendants hurried them into the enormous tent—where lights blazed brightly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I himself looked as if he had just risen from his bed, wearing only a loose linen robe, adorned with no jewelry whatsoever—utterly unlike Baldwin and Cesar, who had been ordered to dress elaborately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But what clothing or jewels did Amalric I need now? He had already seized the crown he had long dreamed of. Before him, prostrate on the ground in the most abject posture, was none other than the Viceroy Shawal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Baldwin had never seen him, but he had heard descriptions. Just as his father had once described him in bitterness and rage, he looked like a cunning, fat pig—bloated body, repulsive face, with sharp little eyes and enormous ears; yet now those eyes, swollen and red from fear and anxiety, glowed with no luster.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Baldwin, he immediately recognized the heir—even though he had never met him before. He crawled forward on his knees and pressed his lips firmly against Baldwin’s boot. Baldwin nearly leapt up, barely suppressing a cry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had heard that some kissed the Pope’s toes, but when it happened to him, he found nothing amusing—only revulsion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I let out a mocking laugh; as Shawal had guessed, his humiliation delighted the king.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shawal had not come to chat with Amalric I; he had previously sought peace with him. But at that time, Amalric I no longer believed his words.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Today, he arrived again, facing grave crisis—he had deceived this victor before, and the promised two million gold coins could never be paid.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Fatimid treasury was already empty; he himself might raise one million gold coins—he had once bribed Shirkuh and his nephew with two hundred thousand, but failed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now he was willing to surrender all that sum, along with the city, merely to escape Fustat safely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I said nothing. “I won’t haggle with you,” he said. “Nor will I trade for what I am certain to obtain.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The people of Fustat have decided to fight you to the death,” Shawal said. “I know you are a merciful and generous man, especially toward your Christian brethren. Yes—at this moment—you are right. This city is already yours.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But how many more lives will you lose before then? Those brave knights and soldiers—even if you do not spare their lives, you should at least spare your own wealth. And will you be satisfied merely by taking Fustat?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No, you will not. You need more—Giza, Alexandria, perhaps even Damascus. Your vision is long, your ambition boundless. Why waste these noble warriors in a battle whose outcome is already clear? Let them earn greater glory elsewhere.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I ask for little. You may even take the Caliph’s life, or keep him imprisoned in your palace. You may do as you please with every soul in Fustat—men, women, old, children. Kill them all, if you wish; keep them as slaves, if you wish; sell them, or set them free—it is all your choice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All I ask is this small mercy.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You truly are a despicable man,” Amalric I sighed. “But you have already cost me so much. If you wished to surrender, you should have done so from the start.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But I needed to see this city truly hopeless before deciding what to do,” Shawal said brazenly—yet his words struck home with Amalric I.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had realized the people of Fustat were not like those of Bilbays; they were not docile, nor had they been corrupted beyond redemption.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They still had spirit, still had pride. He could order his knights to continue assaulting Fustat as planned—but it would be meaningless. Fustat was not the end; within his lifetime, his hooves would trample far more infidel lands.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So you will open the gates of Fustat for me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I will open the King’s Gate for you—it is where you were always meant to enter,” Shawal said with profound humility, placing his hands on the ground and rubbing his face against the tent’s carpet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Very well,” Amalric I said. “If you do it, Shawal, I will spare your life.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Can he be trusted?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After Shawal left, Heraclius asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Does it matter if he can be trusted or not? Once the gates open, it is our turn to move.” Amalric I said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2217,"2026-06-20T20:58:34.857Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","c68fee4a721f726dacfbbc9d910750e2b4cdf5018f0f6f26f8d030b76795413f","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-90","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-88",168,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-cover.jpg"]