Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks

Chapter 733

The laughter of the Ottomans, like a turkey being strangled, came to an abrupt halt.

However, the battle would not change because of one person.

The number of enemies was almost equal to the defenders, but the disparity in elite forces was insurmountably vast. Even with the geographical advantage, the walls began to fall in large sections under the relentless assault of the Ottomans.

He and these Venetians had become like a solitary sail in the vast sea.

"Your Majesty, if we don't retreat now, we'll be completely surrounded."

The Venetians looked at the Emperor, who was fighting to the end with steadfast sword arm, unable to fathom what lay beneath his golden iron face.

"You all retreat."

The Emperor sighed lightly, and beneath the mask helmet, a pair of eyes lit up with golden radiance as dragon blood surged through his veins.

The situation had reached a point where the trump card could no longer be hidden if the first wall was to be preserved.

He sensed that the Ottomans had strong warriors who had not yet acted, clearly on guard against Vivian, who had previously shone brilliantly. As long as Vivian did not act, they would remain inactive.

He had thought the enemy might send an assassin with strong individual combat power to conduct a beheading tactic on him, then use the dragon slayer crossbow to shoot him, conveniently revealing the trump card to Mahmud II to ease his concerns.

But Mahmud II's arrangements were evidently more ruthless than he had imagined.

Even Europe's top-tier army, the Janissaries, was being thrown into the meat grinder with no cost spared, while the real strong warriors watched as these elites were consumed, standing by idly.

The situation had reached this point; he couldn't use the dragon slayer crossbow meant for individual enemies on the Janissaries, could he?

"Your Majesty, look!"

A Venetian soldier suddenly shouted.

The enemy atop the distant wall suddenly became agitated, and a golden glow flashed as a group of knights, bathed in holy radiance and chanting hymns, charged like tigers into a pack of wolves.

"Hallelujah!"

"In the name of the Father!"

The flag they bore was a black background with a white cross, very familiar to Losa.

However, unlike the traditional Hospital Knights, over half of them wore red robes with white crosses instead of black with white crosses.

Each knight radiated holy brilliance. These knights, who had been displaced from the Holy Land, retreated to Acre, Cyprus, and finally Rhodes Island, represented the Catholic world's most powerful armed group. At this critical moment, they joined the battlefield as if descended from heaven.

They chanted blessings that enhanced themselves, and with enchanted armor, ordinary attacks could not harm them in the slightest. The knights at the forefront held shields, plowing through like steamrollers, knocking over and scattering the enemy.

The knights, followed by their attendants, swept in. In no time, the ferocious Janissaries were cleared like leaves in the autumn wind.

"It's the Saint John's Knight Order from Rhodes Island!"

A boundless radiance shone in the eyes of the previously despairing Venetians.

No matter how strong the Janissaries were, they had long been exhausted in this brutal siege battle.

Just as they were about to capture the wall, unexpectedly, such an elite force appeared, and with the retreat of the forbidden medicine's effects and the onset of side effects, their morale began to shake.

Losa clearly saw that the enemy was at their end. He decisively gave the order: "Sound the horn of counterattack, let these heretics know that Constantinople is not somewhere they can come and go as they please."

With the horn sounding, the defenders, who had been gradually retreating to the second wall, found renewed strength and, along with soldiers supporting from both the north and south walls, launched a counterattack against the enemy.

Across from them, no matter how angry Ibrahim Pasha became, their foothold on the wall continued to be squeezed and reclaimed.

When the rain passed and the dawn broke, revealing the pale horizon.

Most of the remaining enemy troops on the wall had been cleared, leaving only a few scattered towers where the enemy still mounted a desperate resistance.

The leader of the reinforcements, a golden-haired man drenched in blood and holding a helmet, strode towards Losa.

The two exchanged glances without speaking.

Raymond looked at the blood-soaked Emperor, feeling an awe for the man whose very presence seemed to conceal the spirit of a giant. He couldn't help but reflect on the tales of the Emperor's achievements he had heard on his way, appreciating the stark contrast to the Greek Emperors of his impression.

Perhaps under his leadership, they could truly defeat the indomitable Ottomans this time.

Raymond was the first to speak: "Your Majesty, Raymond de La Marche of the Saint John Hospital Knight Order, sent by His Holiness the Pope and the Grand Master, leading over five hundred knights to your aid."

Losa remarked with some emotion, "I didn't expect Grand Master Bonpar to actually send you."

He hadn't anticipated that a single letter of his would truly summon reinforcements not originally present in history.

"The process was indeed not easy."

Raymond spoke with a double meaning.

In fact, when Grand Master Bonpar ordered him to lead a unit to Constantinople, there were numerous objections in the Knight Order's internal meetings, and he himself had hesitated considerably.

After all, the Hospital Knight Order had been weakened significantly compared to its peak, having just faced a major battle with the Mamluk Fleet, and their resources were far from abundant.

Moreover, at this time, the Aegean Sea had already become the domain of the Ottomans, even Venetian and Genoese merchant ships had to stop for inspection obediently, and breaking through such a blockade to enter Golden Horn Bay was no easy task.

Perhaps the reinforcements might not even arrive, getting sent to the depths of the sea by the Ottomans along with their ships.

Or perhaps, by the time they arrived, the crescent flag might already be flying over Constantinople.

"But you came in the end, this is God's will."

Recalling the sudden sea breeze that helped them escape the Ottoman fleet, the miraculous meeting with the Roman fleet on that stormy night, and entering Golden Horn Bay safely, Raymond was filled with solemn respect.

He solemnly drew a cross on his chest: "It is God's will that we arrived at the most critical moment of the battle; it is God's will that bestowed upon Constantinople a courageous and unmatched Emperor."

The Emperor laughed heartily.

He looked towards the city walls, bathed in the faint morning light, surveying the bloodied and exhausted soldiers, and energetically climbed the walls, raising the banner of the double-headed eagle and letting out an exhilarating shout:

"Long live Rome!"

"Long live Rome, long live the Emperor!"

Not only did the Greeks raise their arms and shout enthusiastically, but Venetians and Genoese also did, almost everyone except for the just-arrived Knight Order members in Constantinople.

In truth, whether it was the Venetians in the concessions or the Genoese across the strait in Galata by Golden Horn Bay, many of them knew they had become abandoned children by their motherland.

Those with means had either fled or were convinced that even under Ottoman rule, they could still preserve their lives and properties.

But the Republic could not protect them.

But Rome could.

Their Emperor could.

"Long live!"