Adil clenched his fist and slamd the table heavily.
In today’s battle, at least three hundred elite Mamluks, loyal only to him and trained at great expense, were killed. This loss for him may not be much, but this is only the first day of the siege.
"Master Salman, my King provides you with countless resources every month. Just the Purple Willow Grass you demand monthly requires thousands of people to specially gather it. Can’t this exchange grant you an exception this once?"
Under the veil, Salman’s dark face showed a hint of displeasure: "The agreent is thus... I got benefits from Saladin, I admit. If you, if you think this deal isn’t worthwhile, feel free to terminate it!"
Rarely speaking to others, Salman’s tone was sowhat stamring, but the firmness within his words was evident.
The solid dam on the Nile River often collapses at a small breach.
Salman believed that once his principles were broken, Saladin would demand more acts that contradict his beliefs. He learned magic to pursue truth, not to be a butcher!
Adil sneered and said, "Master Salman, I know the King of Kings of Sassan has already privately dispatched people to contact you. If you wish to serve him, you don’t have to use such words to block ."
"Nonsense... nonsense!"
Salman’s dark face flushed red: "I have never had any contact with the Persian ruler."
"Heh."
With a cold laugh, Salman was so enraged he couldn’t utter a complete sentence: "How, how can you... slander like this?"
"Master Salman, the agreent can be annulled. I know you already have no heart to continue serving my lord, but those alchemy materials, precious treasures you took here in the past, should they be accounted for?"
"I... I’ll return them to you!"
Salman was too angry to explain. He also half-stepped into the Legendary Domain as a master-level caster. How could he tolerate the mockery of a re mortal?
Now, he just wanted to leave Adil’s military camp imdiately and return to his alchemy laboratory in the countryside.
"How about this, Master Salman? I know you cannot quickly gather resources to repay your debt—if you strike once and breach the gates of Gaza City for , we’ll settle everything, no one owes anyone, how about it?"
Salman was suddenly indecisive.
If not necessary, Saharan Salman truly didn’t want to continue interacting with soone like Adil. Settling the debt in one go without repaying those largely consud materials seems rather acceptable.
As for taking action...
He snorted coldly: "I will only breach Gaza’s city walls."
"Fine, it’s a deal!"
Adil agreed very swiftly.
Looking at Salman’s furious departing figure, the aggressiveness on Adil’s face gradually disappeared, replaced by a bitter smile filled with guilt.
"Master Salman truly is a principled person."
He hadn’t even thought of outrightly defaulting.
Of course, if Salman wasn’t a principled person, he wouldn’t need to use such thods to provoke him.
Adil sighed lightly and instructed: "Let the first platoon rest well, the second and third platoons be ready at any mont for battle, Master Salman probably won’t wait a mont longer."
...
Salman tapped along with his oak cane, furiously arriving outside the camp. Along the way, no one dared to impede this seemingly frail old man—everyone knew he was closer to the holy fire than anyone, a divine envoy with extraordinary powers.
He looked at the yellowish stone walls.
Gaza City’s walls had long been severely weathered, but the wall structure made entirely of bricks and stones was still not sothing ordinary siege weaponry could topple, at least not those portable torsion catapults.
Now, the walls were covered with mottled black stains, residues of oil from the tanks, left burning on the structure.
Salman raised his cane but seeing the Crusaders collecting corpses on the walls, he thought about it and lowered it again. He turned around angrily, glancing at Adil’s military camp, standing still like a statue.
"What’s he waiting for?"
From afar, already mounted and ready for battle, the Mamluks looked at Adil with puzzled faces.
Adil donned his armor with the attendant’s help, and upon hearing, paused slightly and chuckled: "The envoy guided by the holy fire won’t lightly participate in secular conflicts because even heretics are creations of the holy fire."
His tone paused slightly and continued: "Therefore, Divine Envoy Salman will only cast magic to destroy the Frankish city walls, but now the Franks on the wall are collecting corpses, probably waiting for them to retreat before casting."
He stroked his shoulder and praised: "The holy fire is rciful, supre and grand."
The Mamluks shouted together: "Holy fire Hu, Akbar!"
...
The Franks on the wall also noticed this strange figure.
Recalling His Majesty’s special instructions amidst his busy schedule, Baron Robert supervising Gaza City felt a trace of panic: "Could this be the heretic wizard?"
"Where’s little Robert!"
He shouted.
Little Robert shared the sa na as Baron Robert, and when little Robert inherits Baron Robert’s title, he will be called Robert II.
"Father!"
Little Robert, covered in dust, looked quite disheveled.
"Didn’t Marquis Losa send his witch? Weren’t you mingling with her daily? Where is she?"
Little Robert paused, shook his head: "Miss Chelina left several days ago, just on the day the heretics approached the city—I’ve told you this."
Baron Robert paused, recalling indeed there was such a thing, but the matter was quickly forgotten amidst his busy duties.
"What did she go to do? Why hasn’t she returned yet?"
"I... I don’t know either."
Little Robert looked ashad.
Baron Robert couldn’t help but scold: "Told you to please Miss Chelina well, what have you been doing?"
Little Robert looked speechless. He swore he held deep love and wanted to fulfill his father’s task but couldn’t achieve any success despite days of efforts.
"Prepare the crossbow cannon, aim at that black-robed, mysterious fellow and shoot!"
Baron Robert shouted orders.
The soldiers imdiately turned the winch, strung the crossbow, and loaded the heavy crossbow arrow as thick as an adult’s arm into the crossbow cannon’s groove.
"Fire!"
The next mont.
The heavy crossbow cannon flew directly at Salman standing below the wall with a shrill, ear-piercing whistle.
Boom—
The massive crossbow arrow exploded into a burst of wooden splinters.
Without any action, Salman, his hood blown off by the wind, looked calmly at the approaching splinters, seemingly surrounded by an invisible barrier deflecting all objects away.
"What!"
"Heavenly Father above!"
"Is he a devil?"
On the wall, the faces of the Crusader soldiers changed dramatically.
Baron Robert muttered: "As expected..."
He gripped the sword at his waist, for the first ti in life feeling intense distrust in his martial arts—even crossbow cannon couldn’t kill him, or even harm him, he couldn’t imagine what other weapon could...
Wait!
"Right, demon-blocking gold, fetch the demon-blocking golden arrow we prepared before!"
He shouted hoarsely.
Opposite side.
Below the wall, Salman walked steadily toward the city wall, hesitating slightly, seemingly timid, but actually just finding it hard to speak publicly due to social anxiety.
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