Baldwin IV rode on his warhorse.

The servants behind him set up the royal tent and hoisted the king's flag, with four small golden crosses surrounding a large cross, appearing increasingly sacred in the blinding afternoon sun.

Whenever the soldiers fighting bitterly on the front lines looked back at this banner, they felt encouraged, which was also a helpless move after the True Cross was taken by the Crusaders to the north.

A large-scale battle lasting a few days is quite common.

Of course, this includes the "confrontation" phase and sporadic small-scale skirmishes.

The true decisive battle, limited by the soldiers' physical strength, often sees victory decided within a few hours.

No one would, at the start of a war, act like a gambler losing red-eyed at the table, going all in with their chips.

Although Saladin was not an outstanding military genius, he had personally led many battles and was definitely a commander-in-chief above the passing line.

He would not make such a low-level mistake.

A war-experienced bishop keenly noticed the movements of the Saracen cavalry: "The Saracen cavalry is moving; they intend to swallow up the cavalry led by Baron Losa!"

This bishop held a nail head hammer in his hand, and under his wide white robe, he wore exquisite cloth armor. Before becoming a bishop, he was a valiant knight.

"Ignore them."

Baldwin IV said in a deep voice: "I trust Baron Losa's ability to lead troops; he will not be easily surrounded by the Saracen cavalry."

"Nor should you mind the enemy's harassment. If they come, shoot them with crossbows. No one is allowed to leave their post without permission; we will hold on to the fortifications and defend!"

Baldwin IV stated resolutely.

Before coming, Losa had discussed with Baldwin IV how to use infantry advantages to counter the enemy's cavalry superiority.

The huge Crusader formation took down supplies from the convoy wagons, dismantled the wagon boards, and made shield boards, presenting a rare defensive posture against the heretics.

This posture caused the Saracen commanders to attempt a few probing attacks, but after leaving dozens of corpses in front of the formation, they gave up the idea of attacking.

The Crusaders could not continue to wear down with the Saracens here indefinitely.

Because the Crusaders had too few cavalry to raid the Saracen supply convoy, and the Crusader supply lines at the rear were exposed to the Saracen cavalry's hooves.

No matter how much supply the Crusaders brought, it would eventually run out someday.

Adil watched this scene, deeply furrowed his brow: "King Baldwin, is this leper pinning all his hopes on that Baron Losa?"

"It's unimaginable for a king to trust his subordinates so much."

He recalled his conversation with Losa that day.

He couldn't help but smile lightly: "I'm not your Frank's greatest enemy, but you have apparently become our greatest enemy."

A moment later, news came that the Crusader cavalry had broken through the encirclement of intercepting Mamluk cavalry and had already withdrawn from the battlefield in an orderly manner.

"Retreated?"

His expression changed slightly.

He immediately realized that Losa intended to use 800 cavalry to hold down 4,000 elite Mamluks.

"But aren't you dreaming too beautifully?"

The sky was filled with their falcons, with countless sharp eagle eyes ensuring they could timely capture all the movements of the Crusaders.

As long as the falcons were arranged in advance for warning, Losa and his underlings could not effectively launch a surprise attack.

By then, just sending out a thousand cavalry in advance to guard against the opponent's charge would suffice.

...

Evening.

The standoff between the Crusaders and Saracens had lasted an entire day.

Apart from the cavalry clashes, the infantry casualties on both sides combined did not even exceed a hundred people.

The sky was getting darker.

Soldiers erected clusters of bonfires in their respective camps, with soldiers in each phalanx mostly being fellow countrymen, or at least speaking the same language.

The Kingdom of Jerusalem had a distinct difference from the other Western European kingdoms.

In other Western European kingdoms, sending troops was more like the King of Zhou leading a group of various lords. Even if a king sent out a thousand knights, they often fought with their own attendants and soldiers, each for themselves.

But in Jerusalem, national military forces made up the majority, such as the soldiers from the two knight orders and the city defense army of Jerusalem — allowing the king to integrate these lords' soldiers according to their professions.

Laine and Model gathered their Axe Guard around the bonfire.

Someone whispered nearby: "What kind of battle is this? The warriors under Heavenly Father are like a turtle, retracting limbs and heads into their shells. Where has our courage gone?"

"Exactly, today old John had a finger shot off by those damn heretics. That broken shield couldn't stop their arrows; we were like targets for them to attack."

"And our cavalry, those high and mighty knights, after showing up just once at the start, have disappeared. Could it be they've been surrounded and annihilated by the heretics?"

"By Heavenly Father, without knights, how can we fight against the heretics?"

Laine couldn't help but curse: "You group of cowardly fools, today's whole day of fighting didn't kill as many people as a charge on the battlefield. What's there to fear?"

The soldier retorted, undeterred: "Lord Knight, you have well-protected armor and helmets; even if the shield is pierced, you don't need to worry about getting killed. But what about us?"

Model pulled Laine aside, whispering advice: "Just manage our own formation; those people are just cannon fodder recruited by the palace minister."

What happened here was just a microcosm.

The whole day's standoff severely impacted the Crusader's morale.

With the scorching sun, too many recruits without combat experience, insufficient shield protection, and various factors, the combat enthusiasm, originally spurred by religious passion, declined among the Crusaders.

And Saladin's soldiers, too, felt exhaustion setting in during the long siege and standoff.

...

In a valley.

Losa glanced up at the night sky. During the day, the falcons that seemed to constantly hover in the sky had finally disappeared.

Fortunately, the Saracens had not yet developed the skill of training owls as falcons.

In fact, no one would worry about a night raid; in this era, even without night blindness, it was difficult to see things clearly at night.

"Light a fire, eat!"

Losa ordered loudly.

The knights and cavalry crowded around the bonfire to rest, each of their faces filled with confusion. After breaking through the encirclement, they had not engaged in a single major battle again.

Instead, they came to the shade to rest, retreating when the enemy approached, and swapping tired horses for fresh ones.

This was a completely different approach from their usual battles, leaving each knight deeply puzzled.

Losa whispered, "Gentlemen, I know you have questions in your hearts, but please answer me one question first, what is the most powerful aspect of the Saracens?"

Someone scoffed, "The Saracens are just an army of slaves, they have nothing powerful. Didn't we easily break through them in today's battle?"

But more people almost unanimously replied, "The falcons, Grand Master."

Losa nodded, "That's right, the Saracens' falcons are their eyes and ears. This allows their 'scouts' to relay the battlefield situation to their commanders with incredible speed."

"Unless we can launch a charge and smash their forces—in past battles against the Saracens, that's what we did. But it's important to know that Saladin's army now is similar in number to the Mongisa campaign, but its quality is incomparable."

"If it were two hundred thousand peasant recruit soldiers, perhaps we could easily rout them with one charge, causing chaos and trampling among themselves. But unfortunately, the other side is also a well-trained army."

"The failure at the Spring Valley battle was due to this."

Someone questioned, "Is that so?"

"I thought it was because His Majesty the King lost Heavenly Father's favor."

Losa sighed quietly, then loudly said, "His Majesty has committed no sins. As the monarch of the holy city of Jerusalem, how could he lose Heavenly Father's favor?"

"Gentlemen, the enemy's ever-present falcons during the day leave us no chance for a surprise attack, only at night."

"Baron, are you joking? Are we going to launch a surprise attack with torches?"

"I'm worried we might charge in the wrong direction and crash into our own camp."

The knights were full of confusion.

Losa loudly said, "Please be silent. I understand the difficulty of a night raid. So, let Heavenly Father's will decide whether we should carry out this surprise attack at night!"

After he spoke, he ordered a large iron cross to be brought out and held it high on a dirt mound.

He then knelt on one knee first, reciting the scripts he had memorized in a low voice.

"Is the lord also doubling as a priest?"

"I don't understand... Does the lord have no plan at all, and is only hoping for a miracle?"

The knights whispered among themselves.

"Wait!"

"Look quickly!"

"What is that?"

The knights looked in astonishment to see the cross standing on the dirt mound emitting a faint golden glow. The light was not dazzling, even hardly visible, but somehow everyone could see it clearly.

"Heavenly Father above, it seems... it seems I can really see things at night now? Is this my illusion?"

"No, this is real!"

"This is a miracle, a true miracle!"

"Baron Losa, this is a divine sign from Heavenly Father for us to punish the heretics and protect the Holy Land!"

"Heavenly Father has approved the Grand Master's plan! This battle will surely be won!"

"Losa! Losa! Losa!"

The knights cheered ecstatically, shouting his name as if mad.

Amalric's heart surged with emotion. He opened his mouth, but the cheers stuck in his throat, and he couldn't bring himself to shout it out.

"Losa! Losa! Losa!"

The shout echoed around him.

Turning his head, he was astounded to see his brother, the prideful Guy, raising the Armed Sword, face alight with fervor, joining in the cheers with the others.

Losa raised his hand, and the knights' shouts fell silent.

He surveyed the crowd, the voice beneath his helmet muffled.

"Gentlemen, please join me in the night raid against Saladin's camp."

At this moment, he no longer cared about personal gains or losses. Too many lives were in his hands. If the cavalry were to be entirely defeated, this battle would surely be lost. Tens of thousands of Crusaders might all be lost here.

Losa instinctively looked beside him, at Prajna, fully armored, with only her clear eyes exposed.

The two exchanged nods.

Furinjira, struggling to maintain magic: "?"

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