"Back off, Knights."

Losa removed his helmet and shouted, "Please obey my command. I am here to rescue our lost comrades, not to sacrifice more of their lives."

"I know you all view death as your destiny, but the Kingdom cannot endure more losses. Even for the sake of the Kingdom's safety, I hope you can preserve yourself."

"His Majesty appointed me as the Commander of the cavalry unit. Making irrational decisions is a grave mistake, and if you insist on returning with me, it would be an even greater mistake."

The fervent knights gradually fell silent.

On Losa's face, they saw an unyielding determination, like that of the supreme Monarch, who once spoken, brooks no alteration.

"Baron Goffrey, they'll be entrusted to you next!"

Godfrey nodded.

His expression was somewhat complex.

He couldn't understand why Losa would make such a choice, knowing there were those like Amalric and Guy trapped in the enemy camp, who were more like enemies to them.

He also felt some envy; old friend Count Werner had such an outstanding son.

He watched as Losa turned away, followed by more than ten Winged Cavalry, silent like statues, creating an atmosphere of heroic solemnity.

A knight whispered, "Fearless amid strong enemies."

"Protecting the weak, justly according to divine law."

The knights murmured quietly about the virtues of knighthood, which they once thought were merely inspirational slogans, never imagining that someone in this world could truly achieve them.

"Heavenly Father bless, may Baron Losa return safely."

The knights drew a cross before them, many of them having once questioned why Losa deserved the position of Grand Master. Many had privately cursed and scorned this "fortune-seeker."

But now, they only marveled that even with the King's illness, he remained the insightful young ruler he once was.

...

The horse hooves kicked up dust on the ground.

Losa knew he wasn't as glorious as he appeared on the surface.

The reason for his return was mainly ranked second for rescuing people.

The first was to level up and earn as much "Contribution Value" as possible.

In the Kingdom War interface, although his contribution had surpassed Reynard of Chatillon, there was still quite a gap compared to Count Raymond of Tripoli.

Count Raymond had dispatched at least five thousand soldiers to the northern campaign, with a remarkably high "weight."

According to the system's calculation of contribution, enemies killed by soldiers directly under Losa's command could be attributed 100% to him, but those temporarily assigned to him only counted for 50%.

Moreover, having assessed the danger of this trip, truth be told, with Prajna, Hans, and the Winged Cavalry guarding him, the risk wasn't very high.

...

Inside a Saracen tent.

The candle on the table illuminated a pale face.

Ulm gritted his teeth, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, with his calf swollen a whole circle.

After Andreas fell from his horse, he rushed forward to rescue him without hesitation, but was injured by an ambushed enemy with a Hammer.

As for Andreas, he seemed unharmed, standing vigilantly at the entrance of the tent, suddenly speaking urgently, "The enemy is coming to search, what do we do now?"

Ulm urged him quietly, "What else can we do? Hurry and escape! First, steal a horse from the enemy, then charge in any direction."

"What about you?"

Ulm sneered, "I'm in this state, you wouldn't still be thinking of taking me along, would you? Don't be foolish. Our lives belong to the adults; they're not to be squandered!"

Andreas gritted his teeth and shook his head, "No, I cannot abandon you. You got injured saving me, and I must take you with me."

The once little servant now had a resolute face.

Ulm met his gaze for a moment, then conceded, "Then set a fire first to muddle the waters."

Luckily, the tent they were hiding in once belonged to a tribal chief, equipped with candles; otherwise, they wouldn't even have any fire-starting tools.

The fire quickly spread.

Andreas carried Ulm, using the tent as cover, running swiftly.

But they had already lost their mount.

Relying solely on their legs, how could they possibly escape this vast encampment?

Soon, a group of Saracen warriors, armed with Straight Swords and Round Shields, gathered around a leader and approached them.

"Surrender. I've heard of you Plumed Cavalry. If you agree to become Mamluks under my command, I'll spare your lives."

The voice of the Saracen leader rang out confidently.

But before Ulm could respond, a blood-forged Throwing Spear pierced through the back of his head, the sharp spear tip protruding from his mouth.

Fast-approaching horse hooves sounded.

Losa glanced at the two, urging them, "Why are you still standing there? Hurry and mount a horse to retreat."

Ulm was stunned and stammered, "Lord, why would you risk yourself for us?"

"Stop wasting words!"

Losa tapped his shoulder gently with the sword tip, "With only an injured leg, you should still be able to fight on horseback, right?"

Ulm raised his head high, "To the death!"

...

Guy charged with a team of cavalry through the camp.

The warhorses' physical strength had been mostly drained, these precious beasts were panting heavily, their speed slowing, every knight sensing their fatigue.

They had almost slaughtered all the enemies in this camp, but new enemies surrounded them from all directions, with far too many numbers.

At this moment.

Guy suddenly shouted, "These tents are filled with food!"

"Quick, bring fire!"

Upon hearing this, the knights leaped off their mounts, tipping the charcoals from fire pans onto tents filled with grain. The flames immediately spread.

Fortunately, there was no wind tonight; otherwise, with the wind spreading the fire, one wouldn't know where it would spread.

They used haystacks and other items to climb back onto their mounts.

Then, a melodious horn sounded from afar.

"This is bad; according to the agreed time, we should've withdrawn by now!"

Amalric was frantic, feeling at a loss.

"Brother, what do we do now? If nothing unexpected happens, there's only a dozen of us left here in the Saracen camp. We're surrounded by an army of thirty thousand heretics!"

Guy was also at a loss.

Though he wasn't a completely hopeless idiot, he had more brawn than brains by far.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have impulsively decided to kidnap the mother of the Lionheart, Eleanor of Aquitaine.

"How would I know what to do? Fight desperately!"

Amalric opened his mouth, trying to say that with his noble status, he had considerable wealth in Jerusalem and didn't need to fight the enemy desperately here.

If he surrendered, he could easily spend a ransom to buy his life.

The leader of those heretics was reportedly not as bloodthirsty as King Zanji.

"For Heavenly Father, for Jerusalem, for the honor of Lusignan!"

But even before Amalric could speak, Guy shouted the slogan, wielding his Armed Sword, charging towards the enemy.

"Heavenly Father above, please protect."

Amalric hesitated but bravely followed after him.

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