The Sacred King Descends Upon The Holy City

[Master, you're amazing.]

[In just a short moment, you've managed to upgrade Mumoona's impression of you to deeply impressive.]

System 12345 said excitedly.

At such a crucial moment, I can't afford to let you down, Master.

System 12345 clenched its teeth and stomped its foot.

[Master, I'll advance some of my internship points to get you some resources.]

[With these precious gifts, you will definitely attract attention from Mumoona.]

Anyway, the situation is extremely favorable right now. I believe the Master will double my internship points.

[Master, please accept it.]

As the ships loaded with reinforcements and supplies arrived at the Golden Horn Bay, the thunderous cheers surged like waves, as if they were going to collapse the sky.

No one could contain their excitement among the Normans.

With the Norman Empire reduced to only Constantinople, the livelihood of its 100,000 people relied heavily on maritime transport.

Once the sea route was blocked, everyone would feel the suffocation of being choked.

And after Mumoona succeeded as the Sultan, she did not hide her ambition to seize Constantinople.

With the army pressing closer, the sea routes forcibly cut off, churches and farmlands outside the city destroyed, and numerous military camps constructed outside the city...

Norman was left in dire straits.

This city hadn't seen any incoming ships for quite some time.

From Emperor Augustus to the common people, everyone in the Norman Empire suffered from lack of food and restless nights.

But unexpectedly, today, several warships managed to break through and rush into the Golden Horn Bay!?

With the first arrival, wouldn't there be a second, or even a third time?

Perhaps, just like in the past, Constantinople would once again turn the tables?

Therefore, the injected adrenaline revitalized the residents of Constantinople, who spontaneously gathered at the docks to welcome these reinforcements.

"These Romans are really poor."

Standing on the deck, Shu Yichao looked at the swarming Normans and couldn't help but sigh.

They looked emaciated, with clothes barely covering their bodies, presenting a picture of poverty.

Compared to the muscular, well-fed steppe horsemen he recruited, even the porters from those caravans might not be able to compete.

To be honest, this city was also in ruins, except for a few places with people, most of what met the eye were ruins.

Apart from the majestic city walls, other parts didn't look anything like the "City Desired by the World" as described in legends.

As the warships docked, Constantine XI, who had been waiting for a long time, straightened his clothes and strode forward.

At the same time, the protocol officer held a scroll and ceremoniously shouted.

"Great, supreme, divinely appointed, ruler of all oceans and lands, commander of the invincible legion, co-ruler of the Normans... the only Augustus in the world, welcomes the esteemed guests from afar."

Although the current Norman emperor had nothing to do with those titles, it didn't stop Constantine XI from puffing up and bragging.

Then, he saw a handsome young man leading the way, circling around him before squatting down, standing up, and then walking away.

"....."

Everyone was stunned.

What does this mean?

Shu Yichao didn't even recognize Constantine XI as the current Norman Emperor.

He was just an old man in a faded purple robe, wearing a crown adorned with glass instead of jewels, and his hair was gray, far from the Augustus he had imagined.

"Huh?" Shu Yichao stopped in his tracks suddenly as he received a message and opened his personal interface.

"Do I have a message?"

[You have received pepper, fine salt, strong liquor, sugar...]

A long list of goods appeared, all luxurious items from the Middle Ages.

"I'm rich! I'm rich!"

Shu Yichao was so happy that he even did a somersault.

These things could be used as money directly. Now, his financial pressure was greatly relieved.

Otherwise, he might have to rob the Romans while defending Constantinople halfway through.

"It seems like I've entered the main storyline. I got so many rewards as soon as I entered the city."

"The Renaissance of Rome is just around the corner."

Shu Yichao was eager to try it out.

"Your Majesty, he is a Khitan, seems like he doesn't speak our language, and he appears to be a bit mad."

At this moment, Lady Mati also stepped onto the shaky gangway, approaching Constantine XI, explaining softly.

"Oh, oh." Constantine XI, a bit puzzled, nodded, then realized that the voice sounded somewhat familiar.

"You, you are..." He turned his head, looking at the weather-beaten middle-aged woman before him, finding it hard to connect her with the noble young lady with shallow dimples and milky-white skin from his childhood memories.

"Your Majesty, it's me." Lady Mati removed the towel from her face. "Suna."

When old friends meet, despite a thousand words in their hearts, none can be spoken.

Finally, Constantine XI could only say desolately, "Suna, I'm sorry. I'm not a qualified emperor."

"Your Majesty, it's not your fault." Lady Mati put the towel back on, also filled with deep emotion.

"When the Normans of a thousand years ago whistled in the magnificent bathhouse, thinking that the empire was as solid as the granite underneath, destined to last forever."

"Who could have imagined that the empire would become what it is today."

Constantine XI fell silent.

Then, he seemed to catch a crucial keyword.

"Wait, what did you say?"

"Khitan!?"

From the East!

The Sacred King!?

Constantine XI's eyes widened.

------------------------------------------------------

"Bang!" The fierce warriors dragged Bartolou Pasha, who looked like a dead dog, to Mumoona Sultan's presence, forcing him to kneel.

This once mighty naval commander, now knelt before the Sultan, sweating profusely, his forehead covered in beads of sweat, his back soaked through with sweat.

"Sultan." He prostrated himself, trembling as he spoke.

"I...I'm incompetent."

"I've come to receive my punishment."

Everyone who looked at him couldn't bear to look straight at him, slightly turning their heads away.

The commander, who once wielded immense power, today, fearfully faced becoming another soul under the Sultan's blade.

Mumoona Sultan rose expressionlessly, slowly pacing to Bartolou's side.

In his increasingly trembling figure, she removed her royal robe and draped it over Bartolou's shoulders.

"You've worked hard."

She said.

"S...Sultan?"

"Today's battle, with its casualties and setbacks, is my fault," Sultan Mumoona paced back to her throne.

"Everyone witnessed the bravery of our warriors on the ships, but alas, our experience in naval warfare is still too limited."

"It's impossible to compare with those who have lived their whole lives on the sea."

"Indeed, expecting to build a strong navy within half a year was too ambitious."

"Bartolou Pasha, this is not your fault. You have done your best."

"I will forgive you with kindness this time, and let you redeem yourself."

"S-Sultan," Bartolou's tears and mucus mingled, rendering him speechless.

"I...I..."

"But!" Mumoona's tone suddenly rose sharply. "The few warships you let escape have caused enormous losses to our holy war!"

"The enemy will think they've been aided by their false gods, and fight our warriors even more foolishly and ferociously."

"To capture this city, we will have to pay an even greater price!"

"And all of this is because of your incompetence!"

"I...I..." Bartolou's emotions fluctuated between soaring to the sky and plummeting to the depths.

"So, you must be punished." Mumoona said. "All your possessions confiscated! To reward the bravest soldiers in the upcoming siege!"

"Your title revoked, to be given to the first warrior to plant the flag on Constantinople!"

"And you must be publicly flogged one hundred times in front of all the soldiers, as punishment for your poor performance today!"

"Furthermore," she said ominously.

"If you let another ship escape in the future."

"You and your family will be executed! Do you understand!?"

"Y...Yes!?"

"Supreme ruler, thank you for your mercy! Your servant will forever serve you!" Bartolou thanked profusely as he was dragged out of the royal tent.

"Hmph." Mumoona's eagle-like gaze swept over every minister and general's face.

"Those pitiful infidels, cheering so foolishly for today's meager victory."

"But soon, they will experience the pain of a blade slicing through their throats in despair."

"Spread the word, tomorrow, we attack the city!!"