Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 521 - 300: Massacre

"What is... that monster?"

Fear was written all over people’s faces.

"Just a reanimated corpse!"

Hans drew his half sword and strode forward, slashing diagonally with both hands. The bloated corpse, now with only one arm, tried to block but was cleanly cut through half its shoulder, and with another horizontal slash, its head was severed.

Hans looked at the filthy blood that sprayed out, spat disdainfully, and was about to say something when someone screamed in terror, "Behind us, look behind us!"

Outside the grove, the bodies that had been casually tossed aside and piled up started to rise with shaking bodies.

Chelina frowned and muttered, "No wonder those hyenas didn’t choose to eat these corpses; I didn’t notice anything unusual."

These corpses, once standing up shakily, all turned in unison to gaze at the people in the center of the oasis, with pitch-black eyes devoid of emotion.

Chilling the hearts of all who saw them.

The warhorses agitated uneasily.

Roar—

A roar, like a signal for a charge.

Hundreds of zombies immediately started running on all fours like leopards.

The accompanying Winged Cavalry quickly retrieved weapons from their saddles.

But the enemy came too suddenly; no one could always wear full armor and equipment while marching in the harsh climate of the Holy Land, and the horses couldn’t bear such weight.

So they hurriedly grabbed only their shields and weapons.

Hans raised the Kite Shield emblazoned with the Griffin Badge, shouting loudly, "Prepare for battle, drive our beloved horses and those camels to the back, don’t let any monster break through our defense line."

"Yes, boss."

The Winged Cavalry formed a line, ready to fight.

"Don’t be afraid, don’t panic, hold your positions, no one is allowed to take a step back, these monsters are nothing to fear, I easily dealt with one just now."

Hans kept shouting, boosting morale: "Send these monsters to where they belong, for the will of God!"

The guide, however, seemed petrified with fear, standing still, muttering: "Black witchcraft, this is the Demon’s black witchcraft!"

Hans angrily barked: "Stop standing there foolishly, if you want to live, go take up your weapon!"

The guide, pulled back into the ranks by Hans, was trembling: "Yasal dares to use such blasphemous black witchcraft on corpses; it’s against the law, we will go to the Fire Prison after death, I must spread this news!"

Hans sneered: "It’s useless, no one would believe that a pious Lord, willing to sacrifice his own territory for defending against the Heretics, would use such heinous witchcraft; nor would anyone want to listen to accusations from a Bedouin who sided with the Franks."

At this moment.

The Winged Cavalry saw Chelina, alone, carrying twin swords, step out of the group.

"Miss Chelina!"

Hans hastily called out.

Chelina did not respond, she simply closed her eyes and silently measured the distance between herself and the zombies.

Her slender fingers gripped the sword hilts.

As the putrid stench grew stronger, and the hoarse roars from their throats became clear in her ears, her twin swords suddenly and sharply left their scabbards.

In a mere instant, the piercing wind, previously heard, resounded in everyone’s ears again.

The fierce air current whistled through the gaps in the pine forest.

The azure sword blades, with a chilling sharpness that raised goosebumps, sliced through the hordes of terrifying zombies like a reaper’s scythe, and the next moment, the entire world fell quiet.

Corpses, split right down the middle, toppled over, their upper halves hitting the ground, the cross-sections of bones smooth like mirrors, revealing marrows mixed with blood.

Many of the bisected corpses still squirmed, but posed no threat to people anymore.

She sheathed her swords, frowned slightly at the worsening stench in the air.

"We should leave now."

She turned back and said.

Hans slightly opened his mouth, his eyes full of disbelief. Few had seen Chelina fighting in full glory, and even if they had, they couldn’t associate the dazzling sword strokes with this slender girl.

Their current feelings, understood deeply by the guards atop the walls of Gaza City.

"Yes, leave!"

"Quick, let’s get out of here; who knows what other traps the evil Heretics might have set."

After overcoming the initial shock, the Winged Cavalry quickly understood and mounted their steeds again, swiftly leaving this oasis, which could no longer provide them with any supplies.

The still-nervous troop, after moving a good distance away, turned back to look at the place from afar.

Their expressions were somewhat complex; as a member of the Winged Cavalry, their loyalty and combat skills were beyond doubt—yet none were prepared to fight against monsters of this sort, as it was different from those ferocious beasts.

The undead, resurrected from the dead, are the epitome of fear in any myth or legend, able to stir deep-seated terror in people’s hearts.

The local knights displayed a hint of fear on their faces and asked, "Miss Chelina, if we die in combat against heretics, will we also turn into such monsters?"

Chelina glanced at him and shook her head.

"No."

The voice was confident and reassuring.

"These zombies are mindless and uncontrollable, unable to distinguish friend from foe; the enemy won’t use such magic on the main battlefield."

Reanimating the dead may seem terrifying, but they are far less frightening than the stream of undead summoned by Mudeliji during the Battle of Galilee, which ordinary people couldn’t even touch.

The local knights who liked to argue further questioned, "What if they go mad and want to take us down with them?"

Chelina looked at the eager eyes fixed on her, managing to squeeze out a faint smile, she raised her voice: "Don’t forget, what title does your master hold? What does the Holy Spear in Knight Commander Jeanne’s possession represent?"

"Right!"

"We have the Holy Spear to aid us, what’s there to fear from these evils?"

"Marquis will lead us to victory!"

The Winged Cavalry members began shouting enthusiastically.

Seeing the previously low-spirited team reinvigorated, Chelina breathed a sigh of relief, feeling that she was more suited for solo assassination missions rather than leading a group of mortal knights into battle as a caretaker.

...

Meanwhile, several miles away.

Swarms of Crusaders had formed a vast line extending miles long, with wagons and horses stirring up roaring dust, viewed from above, it looked like a winding python moving across the vast desert.

Having rested a few days outside Gaza City, the Crusaders, after receiving supplies and provisions organized by Cardinal Sebastian, even though the news from the front was quite negative, still under Losa’s leadership, began their march.

After three days of arduous marching, Losa and the Crusaders’ vanguard reached Arishe, the town guarding the gateway to Egypt.

The town was indeed abandoned as the intelligence suggested.

Stopping at the town entrance, a minstrel holding a drawing board approached Losa, pleading: "Your Highness, please hold that posture, I swear by God’s name this will become a masterpiece."

Losa, astride an Arabian warhorse, frowned: "I can’t do that, my military duties are demanding, I don’t have time to model for you here."

The minstrel was earnest: "At least please pause for a moment so I can capture your current majesty, you know, this painting will appear on the walls of many churches because it marks the beginning of your conquest of Egypt."

"Alright."

Losa reluctantly waited briefly until the minstrel satisfiedly said: "Done, Your Highness, I’ve set up the framework, now I just need to fill in the details—trust me, I haven’t used any unnecessary embellishments, because your inherent handsomeness and majesty suffice to captivate anyone who sees this painting."

A smooth talker indeed.

Losa remarked, taking a quick glance at the sketch of the painting likely named "Marquis Losa Conquers Arishe," offered a cursory "not bad," then hurriedly left.

Upon entering the town with the vanguard cavalry unit, Losa discovered the state of Arishe was worse than expected.

Ruins were everywhere, to prevent the Crusaders from dismantling the wood from the houses to make siege weapons, the Saracens set it ablaze, almost burning the city to the ground.

Only the stone constructions remain tough to destroy in a short time, otherwise Losa reasoned, the Saracens would surely crush these stones that could be carved into stone bullets into rubble.

Passing through a street, Losa arrived at the former central square of Arishe.

Even before approaching, Losa smelled the scent of burning.

Bodies were charred everywhere; human, horse, camel...there were women holding children and men clutching weapons, each burnt to a different state, their death scenes haunting.

"Yasal perpetrated a massacre here."

Kurs, with a calm demeanor, observed: "The deceased are those who refused to follow him or opposed his policy of scorched earth, they mostly are Bedouins, but many Arabs too."

"If Hans saw this, he would feel very guilty."

Losa only said that.

The former him might have felt guilty too.

But now it’s different, not because he lost compassion, but because he realized, if this land isn’t unified under him, even after eight hundred years, it will remain a vortex of unrest and chaos.

"Kurs, once I’m crowned king, I will not tolerate any lord on my territory directing slaughter upon the populace."

"The lord is merciful."

Kurs smiled and respectfully removed his hat.

Losa smiled briefly: "Unfortunately, they won’t greet my arrival by sacrificing and offering wine like welcoming a king’s army; in the eyes of the Copts, we are no different from the Arabs who enslave them, and to the Arabs, we are savage Frankish brutes."

He didn’t intend to remain here longer and instructed: "Do not touch those bodies, tonight we camp outside the city; remember to remind the soldiers, absolutely avoid drinking water from any wells here."

"As you wish."