บท 601: Abbas Pasha's Troubles

In the heart of the battlefield, bathed in the ghostly glow of twilight, stood a solitary figure, which is none other than our dear Julian. His towering silhouette seemed to defy the dimming light, emanating a sense of triumph amidst the eerie aftermath of the surprise assault. A gust of wind ruffled the edges of his war-weary cloak, revealing a set of well-polished armour that bore the scars of the recent confrontation. His gaze, steady and penetrating, surveyed the scene around him, scanning over all the Ottoman weaponries, fallen banners, and the bodies of those who had been discarded by their Pasha just an hour ago.