The other side.
Corridor inside the Damascus Citadel.
The footsteps here are hurried and chaotic.
The flickering torches on the walls cast people's shadows into distorted shapes.
Even the air was filled with a strange smell that was a mixture of blood, sweat and dust.
Fadhil was standing in the center of the meeting hall at this moment. His white robe was covered with dust and blood, and even his eyes were slightly sunken in his eye sockets.
Although he was already exhausted, his eyes did not show any sign of fatigue.
At this moment, a soldier covered in blood stumbled into the hall, but Fadhil did not even raise his head to look at him.
He had seen too many similar situations, and it was obvious that the soldiers had brought bad news again.
"Your Majesty, Fadhil! The west gate has been lost! The enemy has breached the city walls and is advancing towards the city center!"
Fadhil remained calm and just nodded slightly.
"knew."
As soon as he finished speaking, several more soldiers rushed in.
"The East Gate is almost broken! Over half the defenders have been killed or wounded, and the enemy outnumbers us five to one!"
"They've gone crazy and sent out all their soldiers!"
"The South District Market has been captured, and the rebels are advancing towards the Noble District!"
"Lord Fadhil! Our granary has burned down! The remaining food is not enough to last three days!"
Any news the soldiers brought back was enough to have a major impact on Damascus.
But strangely, the ministers and generals present were not panicked, but seemed very calm.
In other words, it is a kind of determination.
Most of them hadn't had a good night's sleep for several days. They all looked disheveled, with messy beards and dark circles under their eyes.
However, no one here showed cowardice or retreat.
At this time, a minister came forward and knelt beside Fadil.
"Your Majesty, let me take my guards to the east gate. That will at least buy us some time."
Another general followed suit and said, "Your Majesty, I will lead my soldiers to the west gate for support."
Fadhil looked at the ministers and generals asking for orders one after another, and finally raised his head.
You know, they are the most loyal Arabs left by His Majesty Saladin.
Now, they have to sacrifice themselves to defend this city that is about to fall.
"Thank you all for your loyalty and bravery."
"But we all know that the situation is now irreversible."
"There are less than a thousand defenders available in the city, and most of them are fighting with injuries."
"Even if we all die in battle, it will be difficult to reverse the defeat."
Upon hearing this, one of the ministers simply declared loudly: "Then let us die with honor!"
"His Majesty Saladin once said, 'It is better to die standing than to live on your knees!'"
"That's right! I've prepared poison. We'd rather end our own lives than surrender to the rebels or become their prisoners!"
Fadhil looked at these loyal ministers and generals, and an inappropriate smile appeared on his face.
He picked up a scimitar hanging on the wall. It was a weapon given to him by Saladin himself. Fadil had kept it for so many years and never used it in actual combat.
"Then it's as you wish."
"We will build the final line of defense around the castle. If the enemy wants to completely capture Damascus, they must first step over our corpses!"
All the ministers cheered in unison, and their morale was boosted.
Fadhil knew that to die heroically in the final battle to defend his homeland was, at the very least, a supreme honor.
Fadhil quickly organized the remaining troops, including palace guards, trusted guards from various departments, and some temporarily armed servants.
Although they were few in number, each of them was determined to die, and their fighting capacity was no less than that of an elite force.
They had just completed their deployment when a soldier covered in wounds stumbled in.
"Your Majesty! A large number of enemies are advancing towards the castle! They have already captured the outer city and are moving towards us along the main street!"
Fadhil immediately led his team to the castle gate.
Along the way, he could hear shouts and cries of killing and the loud noises of collapsing buildings in the distance. The whole city seemed to be in purgatory.
When he reached the high point, Fadhil looked out into the distance of the city.
The scene in Damascus today is shocking.
A large number of rebels were advancing towards the castle. They were waving flags of various colors and shouting as they advanced. There were at least thousands of them.
Around the castle, scattered resistance forces were being quickly suppressed and eliminated.
"Prepare for battle!"
"Archers, move forward. The rest of you, prepare your melee weapons and follow my orders!"
The soldiers quickly took their positions, each of them with an unusually calm expression, without any fear, only a calmness that was ready to die.
After a while, the sound of cold weapons clashing against each other could be heard near the castle.
The sound of fighting completely drowned out the castle, and the soldiers around Fadil pulled their bows to their full potential, and then released them with a "whoosh".
The number of rebels was so great that they rushed onto the beach like a surging tide, instantly sweeping away the soldiers guarding the fortress gate.
"Protect His Majesty Fadhil! Take him to higher ground!"
"Everyone else follow me!"
A general raised his weapon, and his soldiers immediately lifted Fadhil up.
"Let me go! Let me go!"
"I order you to let me go!!"
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