Chaotic Sword God
Apocalypse Gacha
Necromancer: I Am A Disaster
Martial Cultivator
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Reincarnation of the Strongest Sword God - Side Stories
Nightmare Assault
I, The Dragon Overlord
Loser System and Berserker Me
Horror Game Designer
There's Absolutely No Problem With The Magic Cards I Made!
Swear Fealty To Me, My Subjects!
Snow-Kissed Rose (GL)
Chapter 17
Martial Cultivator
Chapter 620: The Young Man in the Monastery
Chaotic Sword God
Chapter 3828: Investigation
Horror Game Designer
Chapter 323: How Many Things Live Inside His Heart?
Nightmare Assault
Chapter 245: Present
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1171- Three abilties
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Chapter 944: Resisting the Mandate of Heaven (2)
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1170- King pearls
Snow-Kissed Rose (GL)
Chapter 16
The Demon King is Too Unfathomable!
Chapter 32: The First Trade
Martial Cultivator
Chapter 619: Old Monk in the Monastery
Chaotic Sword God
Chapter 3827: Discarded
Nightmare Assault
Chapter 244: Fear
Horror Game Designer
Chapter 322: Five Seconds
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1169- See you downstairs
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Chapter 942: The Fate-Burning Candle
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Chapter 943: Resisting the Mandate of Heaven (1)
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1168- Level exceeding activation
A cargo ship charging into a massive naval fleet was no different from throwing an egg on a rock. Yet it advanced as easily as a heated knife slicing through a slab of butter.
Despite having the numerical advantage, the Ottomains were a bumbling mess. In their panic, they crashed into one another while attempting to maneuver in this narrow strait. They might be many, but they were still powerless.
It was as if the ship bearing the white base black cross flag was a vile wolf eyeing a flock of lambs. If they willed so, they could swiftly capture any one of the Ottomains’ lambs, slit their throats, and trample them.
Momoana stared at the sea in disbelief. Her officials held their breaths, not daring to make any noise.
It was too embarrassing.
They had at least thirty times the fleets of their enemy, yet it felt like they had been slammed to the ground and punched in the face over and over again.
In a matter of moments, they had already lost eight ships, whereas the enemy’s casualties remained negligible.
“Tell Pasha Baltoghlu,” Moamoana coldly said, “that he doesn’t have to return if he can’t take down those ships.”
…
In contrast to the Ottomains’ plummeting morale, the Romains looked like they were having a festival.
They had noticed Shu Yichao’s ships from the moment they appeared in the Bosphorus Strait, and his attack on the Ottomains’ fleet drew the entire city’s attention. Thunderous cheers broke out when he made quick work of the Ottomains’ fleet as if they were just toy ships.
Even Constantin XI rushed to the city walls to watch this exciting sight.
“Mother Maria,” he drew a cross in front of his chest as warm tears streamed from his eyes, “is this the Lord protecting us?”
Having spent half of his life fighting on the battlefield, he felt a rush of adrenaline when he saw the Ottomains’ fleet being torn apart. He wished that he had been on those ships with a sword in his hand to claim the lives of the Ottomains.
…
Meanwhile, Madam Marti and the others felt like they had gone mad.
When did those lofty barbarian
…
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