Desperate Retreat

Under the cover of the pitch-black night.

One after another, round logs were placed on the ground, followed by countless slaves, craftsmen, and laborers carrying buckets of grease, spreading it over the logs.

Amidst the shimmering waves, a massive Esman warship silently approached the shore.

Soon, the Esman warship dropped numerous ropes, allowing the surrounding people who had been waiting for a long time to gather around, grabbing onto the ropes, whether by attaching them to livestock or to slaves.

With each cry, everyone exerted their strength, and the warship slowly, bit by bit, was moved onto the shore, "sailing" on the land with the help of the round logs.

"It actually works..."

Bartolou Pasha, the commander of the Esman navy, stared in disbelief at the scene before him.

After Mumoona explained her plan, a considerable number of Esman generals thought it was nothing short of a fantasy.

Using a road made of logs to drag Esman warships from the land, bypassing the iron chains of the Golden Horn, and directly entering the Golden Horn to truly besiege Constantinople by land and sea.

And forcing them to divide their forces on the main battlefield in order to weaken their defenses.

Your Majesty, are you daydreaming?

However, Mumoona disregarded objections and firmly insisted on executing her plan.

Bartolou, who had almost lost his life before, could only grit his teeth and follow Mumoona's instructions.

And then, this absurd and bizarre plan actually succeeded.

Watching one Esman warship after another slowly maneuvering on land, Bartolou felt like his lifetime of experience had been shattered.

Do I really understand naval warfare?

The seasoned general fell into deep self-doubt.

"General, what are we waiting for?" Seeing Bartolou's jaw-dropping expression, Mumoona said with dignity.

"Quickly sail the warships into the Golden Horn."

"Yes, Sultan." Bartolou lowered his head.

"Whoosh!" When the first warship slipped into the sea and floated steadily on it, all the Esman warriors let out a low cheer.

They continued with renewed vigor, and one warship after another sailed into the Golden Horn. After half the night passed, they had already transported three to five dozen warships.

"Hmph, when they wake up tomorrow morning, the poor infidels will find that they have a huge fleet in what they thought was their safe backyard."

Bartolou looked confidently at the increasingly massive fleet in the Golden Horn.

"I wonder how panicked they'll be then."

"Hmm." Mumoona pondered, "In this way, the infidel emperor will have to divide his forces."

"Constantinople only has a total of five to six thousand defenders."

"Once they divide their forces, the number of defenders at the western wall will be pitifully small."

"No matter how brave the Khitan people are, they can't defend all the city walls."

"Hmm?" A Esman army officer who was commanding the porters to pull the warships looked up at the sky.

He seemed to hear a "whooshing" sound.

But there were no birds or bats in the pitch-black night sky, only twinkling lights.

"What's that?"

The Esman officer tilted his head. "Meteors?"

The faint light gradually enlarged, turning into burning flames.

"Not good!" The Esman officer's face turned pale. "Arrows!"

"Fire arrows!"

"Whoosh whoosh whoosh!"

The arrow rain suddenly fell, blood splattered, and cries filled the air.

Then, from the pitch-black night, a fierce cavalry suddenly charged out.

The Esman officer recognized the leader, who turned out to be the Khitan Batulu!

"Khitan!"

"It's the Khitan people!!"

"Hahaha!" Shu Yichao wielded his curved bow, shooting arrows without missing a beat, charging through like a whirlwind.

"Dry-land ships, indeed a classic move to keep in reserve."

Having known about Shu Yichao from history, he naturally wouldn't overlook such an obvious loophole.

In fact, for the past few days, he had been observing the movements on this side of the Golden Horn and preparing to come over and mingle with the Esman people at any time to join forces.

So when he discovered tonight that a large number of Esman warships were gathering on the small map, he immediately abandoned the night raid plan and launched an assault here instead.

Of course, he also understood the logic of striking when the iron was hot.

Shu Yichao patiently waited until half of the Esman warships were transported before launching a sudden attack.

This time, the Esman people were unlucky.

For the sake of transporting the warships, they were already exhausted, with many of them having their hands rubbed raw and dripping with blood.

Moreover, when they were pulling the boats, they hadn't considered having to fight another battle, so a large number of personnel didn't have weapons with them.

Even Mumoona didn't expect to be attacked—

The Golden Horn is northeast of Constantinople, and unlike the Serez Plains, it's not vast enough to hide ambushes.

Moreover, there had been no signs of enemy movements here before, not even a mouse, so how could so many cavalry suddenly appear?

This isn't a fair play.

The result was naturally a collapse with just one charge.

Shu Yichao slaughtered among the Esman people, while also setting fires along the way. The round logs smeared with grease had become excellent fuel, and the warships on the logs were burning fiercely.

For a moment, the sounds of battle, cries, and crackling flames echoed through the land.

Seeing the familiar figure again, completely ruining her plan, Mumoona felt her legs go weak.

"Is that a commander over there?"

After a while of fighting, Shu Yichao naturally noticed the large group of senior generals and elite guards surrounding Mumoona.

"Kill!" So he led his men without hesitation towards where Mumoona was.

"Behead the commander, seize the flag!"

"Your Majesty, run!" Seeing Shu Yichao charging over with murderous intent, Bartolou was scared out of his wits.

"I'll cover the rear!"

"Damn it—" Mumoona gritted her teeth, frantically thinking if there was any way to break the current deadlock.

But unfortunately, the more she thought, the more blank her mind became.

Instead, the consequences of failure kept washing over her thoughts.

You see, once the plan failed, it wasn't just a matter of losing some manpower,

Now that half of the warships had sailed into the Golden Horn, if left unattended, these warships would undoubtedly be completely destroyed.

The Esman navy was not strong to begin with, and if they lost half of their manpower, the blockade of Constantinople's sea routes would be completely declared bankrupt.

A magnificent city that could continuously receive external assistance, coupled with a group of incredibly fierce warriors, Mumoona really didn't know how to break through it.

"Your Majesty!" Bartolou watched as the first guards to approach were swiftly cut down by Shu Yichao, growing even more anxious.

"You are the messenger of the true god, the hope of the empire, you absolutely cannot come to harm!"

"Your Majesty, I beg you to leave quickly."

Bartolou knelt on the ground, desperately kowtowing, and in an instant, his forehead was covered in blood.

Mumoona closed her eyes, a few drops of unwilling tears flowing from the corners of her eyes.

After opening her eyes, she regained her former calm and indifference.

"Go!" She gritted her teeth, then removed her luxurious robe, took off the conspicuous crown on her head, and, under the protection of her personal guards, hastily rode away.

"Phew—" Seeing the Sultan depart, Bartolou finally relaxed, then drew his curved blade and pointed it at Shu Yichao.

"Esman's warriors, the time has come to give your lives for the Sultan!"

"Charge with me!"

Bartolou led the remaining guards in a charge, but in just an instant, they were engulfed by the surging tide.