Time Travel? Rebirth? I Win This Time!

Originally, it was within Saladin's expectations: after the collapse of the city walls, his army would surge forward, charging into the castle and engaging in a bloody battle with the remaining defenders. If fortune favored him, he might be able to capture the fortress by the afternoon.

But after hearing a thunderous boom, everything changed.

Thunder cracked one after another, and the once deafening battle cries suddenly fell silent. In the distance, the castle seemed to transform into a giant beast, swallowing Saladin's forces whole.

"What's happening?" Saladin felt a deep sense of unease. One of his subordinates hurried to investigate and returned with a panicked soldier who had fled the city.

Saladin suppressed his disgust as best as he could, for the soldier's once pristine armor was now covered in blood and viscous, white bodily fluids, with chunks of tissue hanging from the seams of his armor.

After years of brutal warfare, Saladin couldn't recall a battle so savage as to leave a soldier in such a state.

Before Saladin could speak, the soldier cried out in madness: "Thunder! Fire! Death!"

These wild, almost mystical words left Saladin perplexed. The soldier's deranged state suggested that no further useful information could be extracted.

At that moment, the sound of battle cries came from the city gates, and to Saladin's astonishment, the defenders—who should have been retreating—emerged from the gates, charging out in a counterattack.

Saladin couldn't believe his eyes: Where were his attacking forces? How could the defenders break out from the city?

But there was no time to think, as the fleeing soldiers from the city had caused the enemy lines outside to scatter. Meanwhile, the defenders were filled with an incredible surge of morale. Within moments, the battle by the gates turned decisively in their favor.

"Form the cavalry!" Saladin ordered, drawing his blade and pointing toward the gates, where his elite Mamluk cavalry swiftly mounted and charged in support.

Meanwhile, Mike Bai, watching from the walls, felt helpless. Today's victory should have been secure, as nearly all the enemy forces between the inner and outer walls had surrendered. But was it Otto's persuasive words or the power of their wooden cannons that emboldened the defenders?

The castle's soldiers, blood up, had fought their way out!

"Quick! Push faster!" Mike Bai urged Harold, pushing the artillery carts forward. Mike Bai knew that once they were outside, Saladin would send cavalry to attack. Without their wooden cannons, Otto's morale would crumble, and the victory would slip from their grasp.

But Mike Bai was also deeply worried. The first cannon, already fired twice, might not survive a third shot.

"There's no turning back now! We fight to the end!" Mike Bai shook his head, steeling himself for what was to come.

As the artillery carts were pushed outside the castle, the defenders' morale surged, and their weapons grew fiercer as they hacked at their enemies.

The soldiers outside the castle were confused, wondering why such a strange wooden weapon had so emboldened the defenders.

In stark contrast to the defenders' high spirits, Mike Bai was frantic. He could see a cavalry unit of about 100 elite soldiers charging towards them.

"Move the cannon there!" Mike Bai shouted, praying that the wooden cannon would hold together.

The race between the cavalry and the artillery team was a desperate one, but Harold's strong arms didn't let Mike Bai down. The artillery reached the front lines first, ready to fire.

30 meters... 20 meters...

Mike Bai could see the mole on the lead cavalryman's face and then lit the fuse of the cannon.

Fortunately, the heavens seemed to listen to Mike Bai's prayer. The cannon fired with a defiant roar, releasing a storm of iron and tearing through the heavy-armored cavalry, causing explosions of blood in the air. The sound of thunder was so deafening that even the horses went wild, some throwing their riders off and fleeing in terror.

The elite Mamluk cavalry's assault was utterly obliterated by the barrage, disintegrating like ice under a storm.

In the distance, Saladin's own warhorse reared in panic, nearly throwing him to the ground. It took some time for Saladin to calm the beast.

"What is that?!" Saladin exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Thunder!" The defenders cried out, their suppressed emotions finally erupting as they fought with renewed fervor.

At that moment, the second cannon was wheeled out from the city gates. The sight of the first cannon's devastating power immediately shook the Saracen infantry.

"Boom!"

The second cannon roared, sending a blast that felled dozens, and the Saracen ranks disintegrated. The soldiers, like frightened chickens, fled in terror, abandoning their weapons and armor as they ran for their lives, not daring to look back. Behind them, only 500 of their best troops remained.

Seeing the defenders' blood still boiling, Mike Bai hurriedly found Otto.

"Uncle, no more pursuit, retreat now!" Mike Bai urged.

Confused, Otto was met with a cold truth: the wooden cannon was no longer usable. A crack had appeared in its barrel, and after such heroic effort, it was on the verge of exploding.

Otto immediately halted Mike Bai, shaking his head.

"No! We press on! We must charge Saladin!" Otto, with his years of battlefield experience, issued the opposite command.

He knew that the defenders were retreating, and their morale was shattered. However, if they allowed Saladin to recover, he would surely spot the weakness in their lines.

The battle horn sounded, rallying the defenders. The cannon crews and soldiers gathered together and marched boldly toward Saladin's flag.

Saladin, who had been observing from afar, seemed to notice something, his suspicion mounting. But as the defenders advanced with such confidence, he began to doubt.

As the two forces closed in, both Saladin and Mike Bai grew tense.

Mike Bai, seeing at least 500 elite cavalrymen, swallowed nervously and braced himself.

Saladin, watching the two dark cannon barrels, hesitated.

"Sultan, they are using sorcery!" one of his commanders cried, panic in his voice. "We should retreat to the camp and fortify our position!"

Saladin, as if not hearing his commander, kept his gaze fixed on the approaching cannons. He knew that it wasn't sorcery, but a weapon. And every weapon has its flaws. This one's flaw was the time it needed to reload after firing.

Saladin considered this: if that was the case, he could order his cavalry to charge in waves, destroying the weapon while it reloaded.

But Mike Bai's slow, determined advance made Saladin hesitate. He didn't dare to risk it. His empire had millions of citizens. Even if he lost this battle, he could raise an army again after a few years. But he couldn't afford to gamble with it all.

In the delicate balance of strategy, Saladin made his choice.

"Retreat!"

With Saladin's flag signaling the withdrawal, the last shred of hope for the Saracen forces evaporated. Their morale collapsed entirely as they fled to their camp, no longer even considering further combat.

Watching the Saracen army retreat, Mike Bai felt a weight lift from his chest. He had, at last, defeated the nightmare enemy—Saladin.

In high spirits, Mike Bai stepped forward, extending his finger with a defiant shout, his voice echoing across the battlefield:

"Saladin, come at me!"