Chapter 879: The Death of Mustafa

It is in chaos.

The Ottoman is finally in chaos.

No one expected that the Ottoman, which had been aggressive just a while ago, invading the Safavid Dynasty and wanting to get a share of the pie from Longyan's East India Company, would fall into such chaos on its own.

And it is a great chaos at that.

Of course.

This all stems from their defeat at Tabriz.

The arrogance of the Janissary at home, in inverse proportion to their combat effectiveness abroad, has truly enraged the populace.

They began to miss the Sipahi Cavalry that once swept across Europe without hesitation. Everyone even began to believe that only the Sipahi Cavalry could represent the combat glory of the Ottoman, not these parasites of the Janissary.

A century of conflict erupted at this very moment.

A countered troop type.

The Janissary were actually beaten into a panicked retreat.

:

This matter caused Ahmed's heart to skip a beat.

A century of hatred was vented at this very moment.

During the first charge, the Sipahi naturally could not take Istanbul immediately, but even when facing a troop type that countered them, these Sipahi Cavalry, who had been suppressed for many years, still performed with incomparable bravery; they brandished the weapons in their hands and smashed them fiercely onto the heads and bodies of these Janissary, and only by watching the blood spurt out did it seem they could resolve the hatred in their hearts.

The same number of people.

Very quickly.

The first day of fighting ended, and various pieces of news reached inside the city of Istanbul.

The populace was once again in a state of panic; although they dared not speak, everyone could feel a silent anger hidden within this city.

It was ruined.

He felt that things were developing in a direction he could not control.

The extravagance and debauchery of these years had clearly greatly affected the combat effectiveness and morale of these Janissary.

Mustafa finally learned the news that the city was being besieged by the Sipahi Cavalry.

"Ahmed, do you not intend to give me an explanation? Hmm?"

He was in the Divan, slamming the table fiercely, looking coldly at Ahmed.

The atmosphere was oppressive.

The atmosphere was eerie.

Finally.

Mustafa was furious: "Do you still consider me the Sultan of this country? What do we do now? Come, tell me, what do we do now!"

Ahmed was also angry: "Istanbul is a thousand-year-old city; those Sipahi probably won't be able to break in for a year, so what is the Sultan worrying about?"

"The hearts of the people!"

The other officials lowered their heads, silent.

Ahmed sneered coldly: "Sultan, the defeat was suffered by your son; I did not inform you only because I did not want to blow things out of proportion."

"Presumptuous!"

He could not accept it.

"The hearts of the people?"

Ahmed gave a cold laugh: "Sultan, if not for me all these years, with your brain, are you even worthy of mentioning the hearts of the people?"

"What I am worried about is the hearts of the people!"

Even though Mustafa had a madness, there were still times when he was normal; his face was twisted.

He could not imagine that the powerful Ottoman had actually become so riddled with holes; he could not imagine that the powerful Ottoman glory was disappearing completely in his own hands.

"You, you, you..."

Mustafa pointed his trembling hand angrily at Ahmed.

Ahmed simply gave a cold snort, dropping all pretense, his eyes cold and dark: "Sultan, stay honestly in your palace; wait until I have wiped out this bunch of Sipahi, then I will come to ask for your forgiveness, how about that?"

Once these words were spoken, everyone's expressions changed drastically.

No matter what, Mustafa was the Sultan of the Ottoman.

Previously, no matter how arrogant Ahmed was, he would not have humiliated him like this in public. But today, Ahmed finally could not hold back.

"My Lord!"

"Sultan..."

The others were also filled with sorrow.

After saying this, he did not care that Mustafa was already so angry he was about to spit blood, and he left the Divan with his own men.

"Pfft."

Mustafa, in the end, could not hold it in, and a mouthful of black blood sprayed out.

Several people nearby were somewhat worried.

Ahmed looked indifferent: "What is there to fear?"

He sneered coldly: "These Janissary were created by their own Sultan, so reaching this point today is their own doing, their own doing, understand? This is the choice of history! The choice of history!"

"Useless trash!"

Walking out of the Divan, Ahmed wore a look of disdain.

"My Lord, are we doing this..."

This Ahmed's mood was somewhat off.

It seems the powerful Sipahi had brought too great an impact on him this time.

On this day, the first day of the siege had just begun.

The more he spoke, the more agitated he became.

The others, however, looked at each other in horror.

Something was wrong.

Protect the Sultan!

Although there were only a scattering of people, and they were quickly suppressed, this atmosphere was undoubtedly spreading.

Ahmed, in the horse carriage, listened quietly to all of this, and he slowly closed his eyes.

On the streets, quite a few Ottoman citizens had already jumped out, disregarding the heavy pressure.

These people shouted to drive away Ahmed and support the young prince.

Protect the royal family!

Kill Mustafa.

Become the Sultan himself!

Once this thought emerged in his mind, it was impossible to resist its expansion.

Regarding the defensive capabilities of Istanbul, he was still very confident.

And so.

A terrifying thought began to sprout in his heart at this moment.

Does he need the hearts of the people?

Does a country need the hearts of the people?

No!

The hearts of the people?

What kind of hearts of the people?

Ahmed felt this notion was quite ridiculous. He was a person who had always supported Centralization of Power; he had always believed that those "slaves" at the bottom were born to be "reformed" by their doctrines, willing to be the tools and weapons in their hands.

He finally understood what this siege of Istanbul by the Sipahi meant for him!

An opportunity!

This was a great opportunity for him to ascend to the position of Sultan!

What he needed was powerful military authority and a powerful political regime!

Suddenly.

He attained enlightenment.

The siege was still ongoing.

Inside, more and more citizens were resisting the Janissaries and supporting the Sipahi, and Ahmed had only one method for this: violent suppression!

All over the streets, one could see fully armed Janissaries.

Thinking of this, he trembled with excitement.

Suppress them!

The second day.

The mood within the city collapsed all at once.

The Janissaries were no longer satisfied with mere suppression; they began to commit all kinds of outrages in this city, burning, killing, and looting. They began to use the name of suppression to seize property and insult women.

Ahmed did not bother with it.

The third day.

Continued heavy pressure.

On this day, the offensive of the Sipahi Cavalry was exceptionally fierce; they did not know where they had mobilized countless Red Barbarian Cannons from, changing from their previous mindless charges, and began a truly lethal bombardment against the sturdy walls of Istanbul.

Inside the city.

The conflict between the Janissaries and the citizens also began to become intense.

The fifth day.

Because he knew that the Janissaries were just like this; as long as you satisfied them, they would fight for you as if their lives depended on it.

The fourth day.

The battle situation continued.

The resistance sentiment of the citizens grew ever stronger.

"No one is allowed to move!"

"Our mission is to hold this place!"

The citizens finally picked up simple weapons they could use and fought together with these Janissaries in Istanbul. But they were no match for the Janissaries; soon, bloodshed began to spread through the city, and corpses littered the fields.

But this.

Did not seem to make people afraid or submissive as Ahmed had imagined.

One wave.

Followed by another wave.

They shouted to support the young prince, they shouted slogans to protect the royal family, and that fanatical appearance was very moving to behold.

"No one is allowed to move!"

"Whoever dares to force their way into the mansion, kill without mercy!"

Kuma looked at the increasing number of people trying to surge over to rescue the young prince Hamid, his expression grave.

"Sultan."

"Lord Sultan!"

"Sultan!"

When the sixth day arrived.

Mustafa was finally enraged.

This true Sultan of the Ottoman, sitting in his own Horse Carriage, arrived on the street and looked at this chaotic Istanbul; his high blood pressure almost flared up.

"Where is Hamid?"

"Where is Hamid? Bring him to me—"

Only at this moment did he remember his youngest son.

When the masses saw him, they swarmed toward him one after another.

There were those with tear-filled eyes, those with faces full of resentment, those with faces full of hope, and those who were disappointed that he had not lived up to their expectations.

Mustafa felt unbearable heartache and said in a deep voice, "My dear subjects, believe me, the Ottoman will get better sooner or later, it will get better sooner or later!"

It struck Mustafa directly in the heart.

And just at this moment.

A cold arrow shot out from some corner.

That youngest son who had always advocated for reform.

This Sultan, who had suffered from madness his entire life, just like that, died a few days before the Istanbul Tragedy.

The whole city was in an uproar.