Time Travel? Rebirth? I Will Win This Time!

After several days of rest, Mike Bai and his companions set out with a merchant caravan heading toward the Holy Land. Nearly a hundred people, more than thirty camels, and ten wagons formed a long procession.

Once they left the port of Acre, the caravan entered a vast wasteland. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but endless yellow sand. The scorching sunlight mercilessly roasted the earth, and the sandstorms made it nearly impossible to open one's eyes. By night, the crackling campfires could not fend off the cold, and the travelers had to bury themselves under thick blankets to seek warmth. In such harsh conditions, the only thing that could lift everyone's spirits was the prospect of reaching an oasis.

At dusk, the coolest time of the desert day, Mike Bai and his companions were once again savoring the exquisite dinner Mike Bai had prepared. But this time, there was an unexpected addition: a figure clad in white.

"This is so delicious! I feel like everything I've eaten in my life before this was pig food," a Knight of the Temple exclaimed as he devoured his food, still managing to speak clearly between mouthfuls.

"Sir Knight Everette, if you don't mind, there's more here," Mike Bai said, ignoring William's pleading look as he spooned the last helping of stew into Everette's bowl.

"The duty of protecting the pilgrims from the heathens is ours. Coming over to scrounge food already goes against the rules of the Order. How can I shamelessly accept more?" Everette protested, though his actions were the opposite, as he hungrily continued to eat.

"This isn't a gift from the pilgrims to the Order, but rather a gesture of mutual support among fellow believers," Mike Bai explained, gesturing toward his uncle. "My uncle, Baron Otto Adler of the Duchy of Mecklenburg, is soon to join the Order of the Knights as well."

"Forgive me, forgive me!" Everette raised his head slightly, acknowledging Otto before resuming his meal with a rueful expression.

Mike Bai raised an eyebrow, glancing at Everette, who resembled someone who hadn't eaten in days, and his mind momentarily flashed back to his round-faced second brother.

At long last, the meal was finished, and Everette let out a satisfied sigh. He made the sign of the cross and thanked the Lord for the meal.

"Sir Everette, we've just arrived on this land and don't know much about the current situation in the Holy Land. Could you give us some insight?" Mike Bai asked.

"The situation in the Kingdom of the Crusaders is not good," Everette replied, setting his plate aside, his face filled with concern. "As much as we hate to admit it, Saladin—this brilliant general—is indeed our greatest enemy."

"Three years ago, he successfully took control of Egypt. Since then, he has been waging campaigns in every direction, consolidating local powers. And this year, he defeated his overlord with ease, declaring independence. It seems there's nothing left to stop him from building a unified and powerful kingdom."

"Saladin," Mike Bai silently noted, committing the name to memory.

"And as the enemy grows stronger, our own kingdom is wracked with internal conflict," Everette sighed, continuing. "Our Grand Master Audred and the late King Almarc had always been at odds, and conflicts with the pro-royalist nobles only increased. This spring, King Almarc passed away, and the 13-year-old Baldwin ascended the throne. But Baldwin suffers from leprosy, and it's uncertain when he'll be called to the Lord."

"Thankfully, these past two years, Saladin has been busy with his siege of Damascus, so the kingdom has been left in relative peace."

Mike Bai summarized the situation in his mind: internal strife, external threats, and political turmoil—a fragile peace before the storm.

After dinner, the group dispersed to rest, but Otto found Mike Bai.

"Child, you've had a tough journey," Otto said.

Mike Bai looked at him curiously, wondering why he was saying such words.

"When you're older, you should return to the estate," Otto continued.

"And what about you, uncle?" Mike Bai asked.

"When my service is over, I'll return as well," Otto replied.

"Can't we return together?" Mike Bai asked, his voice tinged with hope.

Otto didn't respond but silently helped Mike Bai adjust his blanket.

Mike Bai silently made a vow in his heart: I must find a way to end my uncle's service early.

The next morning, the caravan set out at dawn, taking advantage of the cool air before the sun's relentless heat.

The blazing sun caused the earth to groan in pain, and the endless desert stretched before them, with no end in sight.

Inside the wagon, Mike Bai handed a water flask to Anna. After she took a sip, she handed it back to him. Mike Bai, his lips cracked from the heat, drank deeply from the flask.

"When will we finally leave this damn desert?" he muttered.

"Robbers!!!" A scout from the cavalry rushed back to the caravan, dust swirling behind him. Dozens of riders in black, armed with swords and spears, circled the caravan from the side. A group of ragged bandits wielding knives and clubs shouted as they charged toward them.

"Mike Bai!" Otto and the others galloped to surround Mike Bai's wagon. Demore reached into the wagon, pulling out a helmet and chainmail that were clearly too large for Mike Bai, and quickly outfitted him.

"If anything happens, stay inside the wagon and hide, understand?" Otto instructed sternly. "And pay close attention. This is what the real battlefield looks like."

Mike Bai nodded and, with Anna, took cover inside the wagon, holding his crossbow.

Meanwhile, the caravan guards rushed to engage the bandits. The air was filled with the flash of blades, screams, and battle cries. The clash of steel, the thud of bodies hitting the sand—chaos reigned.

Mike Bai stared wide-eyed through the wagon's window, his mind flashing back to the training Otto had given him.

"Uncle Otto, is there anything important to remember when you're on the battlefield?" Mike Bai had once asked.

"Of course," Otto had replied.

"First, learning to defend is more important than learning to attack," Otto had said, using his shield to block a bandit's sword. In the same motion, he swiftly struck, cutting off the bandit's hand.

"Second, conserve your strength," Otto continued, as Patrick climbed to the top of the wagon, his bow sending arrows that sent enemies to the ground.

"Third, don't believe everything the priests say. Use what works," Otto said as an arrow flew, claiming a life.

"Fourth, never let yourself be surrounded. Always keep your back clear," Demore shouted, blocking attacks from three directions at once with his shield, while his sword pierced an enemy's chest.

"Fifth, maintain your equipment," William roared, swinging his axe with such force that it cleaved both the bandit's blade and the man in half.

"Sixth, bravery is not recklessness," Otto said, spearing a charging bandit off his horse.

"Seventh, know when to run," Everette said, weaving through the fray, taking out bandits one by one.

"Eighth, make yourself seem unimportant," Patrick fired his final arrow, sending a howling bandit to his death.

"Ninth, never give up until the last moment," Otto continued, leading his men to cut down the remaining bandits.

"Tenth, dead enemies are good enemies," Demore added, his sword finishing off the last of the retreating bandits.

Finally, the bandits, unable to withstand the casualties, fled, their escape made even more desperate by their losses.

In the aftermath of the battle, the sands were soaked in blood, vultures circling in the sky, and the ground littered with the bodies of the fallen. The surviving bandits were swiftly dealt with.

Mike Bai swallowed the rising bile in his throat, carefully helping Anna remove bandages from the wagon and tending to the wounded.

"Uncle Otto, is this common?" Mike Bai asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Otto nodded solemnly.

"Perhaps only the Lord truly understands why people must endure such suffering."