Chapter 1211: The High Priest's Prophecy!
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Records of the Human Emperor Chapter 1211: The High Priest's Prophecy!

Chapter 1211: The High Priest's Prophecy!

Translated by: Hypersheep325

Edited by: Michyrr

"Out! Out! Out!"

The shouting Caliph's face was ashen and twisted, his entire person insensible with rage. No matter what the reason was, he would never be able to accept it.

Mutasim III's eyes were bloodshot, his demeanor like that of a man-eating beast. Everyone was shocked and alarmed, and hurriedly withdrew, none daring to argue.

In just a few moments, the hall was empty except for Mutasim III.

"Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!"

Mutasim III stood in front of his throne, his eyes staring at the doors, his fists clenched and his chest heaving like pumping bellows.

Although the Arabs had only lost sixty thousand men in this first battle at the start of spring, the remaining hundreds of thousands of soldiers had fled without even trying to fight. This was even more unacceptable to him than the army of seven hundred thousand soldiers being defeated with five hundred thousand losses. This also meant that the Arabian Empire no longer had a means of dealing with the coalition army in the newly established Sassanid Dynasty.

No hope of victory and retreat without a battle—this was the greatest humiliation Mutasim III had suffered in his entire life.

The Caliph clenched his teeth and finally yelled out, "High Priest! Must I keep holding back my rage? Does my enormous empire really have no means of dealing with these easterners?"

All was quiet, the only sound in the hall that of the Caliph's echoing voice. After what seemed like a second and like countless years, an elderly voice finally came from behind the Caliph.

"It is just a single defeat. What need is there for Your Majesty to be so troubled?"

Light and shadow shifted behind the Caliph, and then an elderly figure wearing a black robe and holding a staff that represented supreme divine power slowly walked out from the shadows. As he moved, his black robe shifted, its rustling akin to the dying cries of countless sandworms. But the figure itself made no noise, as if it

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