1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 292 The Enemy of God

Chapter 292 The Enemy of God

Golden strands of hair cascaded down the old man's blood-stained white robe, creating an eerie yet harmonious scene. In the square, thousands held their breath, staring intently at the sight. The square was silent, save for the mingling of their breaths.

Sofia moved with practiced ease, tying the torn strip of fabric from her skirt into a neat knot, temporarily stopping the bleeding. She looked up at Elder Yixia Laxin, whose lips were pale from blood loss, her eyes filled with concern.

"Quickly, call the doctor!" she shouted to the stunned members of the Queen's medical team below the stage.

"No need," Sheikh Ibrahim shook his head. He refused Sofia's outstretched hand, using his good hand to support himself on the wooden platform, and struggled to his feet. His body trembled slightly from pain and anger, but his spine remained ramrod straight.

He didn't look at his wound, but instead turned abruptly to face the thousands of Muslims below who shared his faith. He raised his bloodied arm, wrapped in a blue cloth, high as if raising a scepter of command.

Blood dripped from between his fingers, one drop at a time, onto the wooden table.

"You all saw it!"

A thunderous roar erupted from his gaunt chest, making the entire square vibrate.

The crowd below the stage shuddered.

"This noble lady, the Crown Princess of Greece, she comes with peace, she comes with goodwill!" Elder Ibrahim's voice was hoarse with emotion, but every word was full of power. "She brings bread to our hungry people, medicine to our sick people, and peace to our desperate people!"

"And you, the scum among you! Responded to her mercy with poisoned daggers!"

He pointed with his intact finger at the assassin who was being held down by the guards on the ground, his eyes filled with rage.

"To harm a messenger of peace! To harm an unarmed woman! This is the most shameless betrayal of our faith! This is the most vicious blasphemy against the teachings of our prophets!"

He surveyed the entire room, his gaze sweeping over the heads bowed in shock and shame.

"I, Sheikh Ibrahim, swear in the name of Allah!" His voice rose again, resounding through the heavens. "Anyone who attempts to harm His Highness is an enemy of all Muslims! An enemy of Allah!"

These words, like the morning bell and evening drum, struck heavily on the hearts of every Muslim blinded by rumors. Their confusion, doubt, and incited hatred began to crumble in the voice of this highly respected religious leader, who roared in the name of faith.

In the crowd, a Greek journalist accompanying the pilgrim was clutching his camera tightly. At the moment the Grand Imam raised his arm and shouted, he deftly pressed the shutter.

"Snap!"

The flash of the spotlight was fleeting, but it captured this breathtaking moment forever.

An elderly Muslim imam, his arm bleeding, raises high, letting out a roar of faith. Beside him, a blonde foreign princess looks up at him with concern, holding the leftover strips of cloth from when she bandaged his wound. In the background, countless people with complex expressions fill the scene. This photograph is destined to spread throughout Europe.

Just then, Governor Pavlos finally arrived, panting, with a squad of guards as he rushed up the platform.

When he saw Elder Yi Xia La Xin's injuries and glanced at the subdued assassin on the ground, the fear on his face instantly turned into a ferocious killing intent.

"Your Highness!" He rushed to Sophia, his voice trembling with excitement, "Please give the order! Let me execute this audacious thug on the spot! Let his blood wash away his offense against you! As a warning to others!"

Sophia shook her head. Her gaze shifted from Pavlos's contorted face to the young assassin, who was being held down by two strong guards and was still trembling.

She carried her torn dress and slowly walked over.

She knelt down in front of the young man.

The guards gripped their weapons tightly, while Pavlos stared in bewilderment, his mouth agape.

Sofia's eyes were calm as still water, devoid of anger or hatred, only clear and pure. She looked at the young face, contorted with fear and despair, and spoke softly, her voice clearly reaching the other's ears through the translator.

"Tell me, child, what is your name?"

The young man shuddered. He looked up and met those sapphire-blue eyes. At such close range, he didn't see a haughty "female demon," but a beautiful, gentle woman with a hint of pity in her eyes.

The fervor in his eyes quickly faded, replaced by endless fear and confusion.

"I—I am called—Omar—" he stammered, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

"Omar," Sofia repeated his name, "why did you do this?"

Omar's lips trembled. He dared not look Sofia in the eye, his gaze darting away, and finally he burst into tears.

He recounted haltingly that the village imam told him this woman from Athens was a devil who would burn down their mosque and force them to convert. The imam said that if he could kill this "female demon," he could become a saint and his soul could ascend to heaven. Furthermore, the imam gave him a large sum of money, saying it would be enough to give his ailing mother the best treatment and ensure his younger siblings would no longer go hungry.

He cried and said that he didn't want to die, but he didn't want his mother to die of illness even more.

After hearing his tearful account, the entire platform fell into a deathly silence.

Pavlos was speechless, unsure what to say. Even Sheikh Ibrahim, who was burning with anger, fell silent.

Sofia listened quietly, then slowly stood up.

She turned to everyone in the audience, to Pavlos, to Ibrahim, to the photographer, and declared to the world in an incredibly clear and firm voice: "I do not believe he was an assassin."

Everyone was stunned.

"All I saw was a desperate child, deceived by lies, driven by poverty, and driven to despair in an attempt to save his mother."

She turned to the dumbfounded Chief Executive, Pavlos.

"I have decided to pardon his death sentence."

"What?" Pavlos exclaimed in surprise.

Sofia ignored him and continued issuing orders: "At the same time, send men to his village immediately to find out which imam, using money and lies, drove a young man to his death. Bring him before Sheikh Ibrahim for trial by the religious court."

She paused, then added, this time her voice carrying throughout the entire square.

"Furthermore, in the name of the Greek royal family, Omar's family will be offered a long-term job in a municipal engineering team. His mother will receive the best treatment from the Queen's medical team, with all expenses covered."

This decision shocked everyone present.

Mercy, especially mercy toward someone who tries to kill you, is a more powerful and incredible force than any sword or any army.

Pavlos was completely stunned.

On the stage, Sheikh Ibrahim looked at the Crown Princess before him, and for the first time, his weathered eyes revealed a deep and heartfelt respect.

The thousands of Muslims in the square below the stage erupted in jubilation.

They looked at the Crown Princess on the stage, who was as benevolent as a saint; at Omar, the young man who was wailing and crying after being pardoned; and at Elder Ishaq, who was raising his arms and looking excited.

An elderly Muslim, trembling, was the first to kneel down. He bowed deeply towards the high platform.

One, two —

Immediately afterwards, the people behind him knelt down one after another.

Men, women, and the elderly.

The wall in their hearts, the high wall built by history, war, prejudice and lies, was utterly shattered at this moment by Sofia's supreme mercy that transcended faith and hatred.

The square was silent. Only Omar's cries and the rustling of clothes as countless people bowed in worship could be heard.

The separatist conspiracy collapsed at this moment.

The Greek journalist, his hands trembling, pressed the shutter again. This time, he didn't use the flash.

He simply recorded this scene bathed in sunlight, a scene worthy of being recorded in history.