As the flag of Saladin fell, and his golden helmet was pierced by a lance, the outcome of the war was sealed.
The vast ranks of Saracen infantry began to retreat like a receding tide, while the Mamluk cavalry, battered and broken, could no longer hold their ground and scattered in disarray. The Kingdom's forces, still capable of battle, pursued mercilessly, expressing their terror of war through relentless violence.
Mike Bai collapsed on the blood-soaked earth, his gaze fixed on the battlefield, now painted in crimson. Everywhere there were severed limbs and dismembered bodies. The air was filled with the sound of groans and wails as soldiers—both Saracen and Crusader—lay in death's embrace, side by side. The few survivors, though wounded, moved about searching for others. Saracen soldiers delivered the coup de grâce to their own, while their comrades were hastily dragged away to be treated.
Above, vultures circled under the blood-red sky, waiting for the last few survivors to drift away so they could descend upon the carnage below.
"Mike Bai! Where is Saladin?!"
The voice of Count Raymond rang from a distance, impatient and urgent.
Mike Bai, aching from head to toe, weakly tilted his head and pointed towards the body of the golden-armored general nearby.
"He's dead... just like that... how could he die so easily?" Count Raymond's voice cracked with a mix of disbelief and anger. "This filthy heathen, who owes me so much... and he just... dies like this?!"
He rushed over to the body, but as he drew closer, his frantic pace slowed, and silence fell over him.
"Ha... ha ha..." Count Raymond let out a cruel, chilling laugh. "Perfect. Saladin's still alive. There's still time for him to savor the gift I've prepared for him."
"Isn't this the man himself?" Mike Bai muttered, too exhausted to even turn his head.
"That's Saladin's nephew," Raymond replied, naming the man with a string of titles that Mike Bai barely registered, save for one: Emir.
"Seems like you have a personal vendetta against Saladin's family... Why do you always end up fighting them?" Mike Bai thought to himself, but his mind quickly dismissed the matter. Whatever... Saladin's out of the picture for now. This battle is a great victory. Saladin won't be able to muster another large-scale force for quite some time. The Kingdom will enjoy a brief respite.
But as he surveyed the hellish battlefield, Mike Bai couldn't help but wonder: Can this really be called a victory?
Inside Jerusalem's city walls, in the Templar Knights' monastery hospital, the once spacious halls now overflowed with wounded soldiers. The building, which had the capacity to accommodate over a thousand patients, was now packed to the brim. Dozens of monks in black robes and nuns in white scurried about, tending to the injured, though many lay untreated, their wounds hastily bandaged as they cried out in pain.
Amid the chaos, Mike Bai watched in silence. The lack of resources was evident, and the makeshift 'surgeons' were more like butchers, hacking away at limbs with crude tools. His voice, as serious as ever, cut through the noise: "Staying here is as good as waiting to die. Get our men back to the manor. Go find those Saracen doctors in the city."
When Mike Bai and his retinue returned to the manor, they were met by a group of concerned attendants at the gates. The sight of Mike Bai—his body wrapped in bandages, lying motionless—shocked them all. Anna, tears streaming down her face, was the first to rush over.
"Mike Bai, what happened? Please, don't leave me! I was so scared, so afraid you wouldn't come back…"
She clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably. "I don't know what I would do without you…"
Mike Bai, roused from a painful slumber by her sobs, managed a weak smile. "Anna…"
Hearing his voice, Anna forced a pained smile through her tears. "Mike Bai, you'll be okay, right?"
"I... I'm fine. It's just... you're pressing on my wounds."
Anna leapt off him in alarm, her face flushed a deep red as the others burst into laughter at the awkward situation.
Fortunately, Mike Bai had anticipated the potential for disease during the campaign and had set up a distillation device before departing. While William hurried back with supplies, Mike Bai directed the manor's helpers in preparing for the healing process.
The large copper kettle was filled with mead, and over it, another iron pot of cold water was placed. A special wooden tube was inserted to channel the distilled liquid. The sweet aroma of the clear liquid filled the air as it dripped slowly from the tube.
Curious, William couldn't resist and dipped his finger into the stream. The sharp burn of alcohol hit his throat, followed by an intoxicating, floral fragrance that lingered in his mouth. He was immediately enraptured.
"Delicious, right?" Mike Bai smirked.
"Yes, yes..." William nodded reflexively.
"You've never had anything like it, have you?"
As William sank deeper into the drink's allure, he suddenly stiffened and turned to Mike Bai with a horrified expression. "Wait... are you—?"
Mike Bai, still smiling, scolded, "You've been sneaking sips, haven't you? No bonus for you this month!"
William let out a miserable cry, but Mike Bai ignored him, turning to the others. "Take this distilled liquid and apply it to the soldiers' wounds every day. Also, make sure to send some to the Templar Knights and the Hospitaller Knights."
A thought crossed his mind, and he added, "Tell them it's a divine gift from the Adler family—a holy water discovered by chance, capable of cleansing wounds and protecting against infection."
With a final wave of his hand, he sent everyone on their way.
Sighing deeply, Mike Bai muttered to himself, "I wonder what kind of trouble this will cause. But... human lives are at stake. I can't afford to worry about that now."