Chapter 2: The Choice on the Eve of Hattin

The night wind of Riyadh carried a dry, gritty feel as it pierced the heavy floor-to-ceiling windows of the old house. Omar sat in the shadows of the study, his fingertip lightly touching the bronze ancient coin engraved with a Latin cross and Arabic calligraphy. Outside the window, the Khalid Group's "Eye of Sand" surveillance net had quietly tightened, and the ubiquitous sensors left his every breath exposed beneath that web of heaven. Omar's gaze was cold and sharp; he knew the other side had already noticed the abnormal fluctuations in the fortune value, and the calm at this moment was nothing but the dead silence before a storm.

"Khalid is forcing the palace because he has seen our family's decline," Omar said lightly. "If I do not cut off those branches doomed to die, the fortune value will fall to zero, and the whole family will collapse in the modern world. I sacrificed points so that the remaining core bloodline still has a chance to live. Even if only a single seedling remains, that is better than the whole plant withering."

"Khalid has already received the news," Yusuf finally spoke, his tone carrying a despairing clarity. "He will make his move tonight. It will not only be a fight over control of the ancient coin; he will come directly for you. In the real world, without the protection of the fortune value, you are only an ordinary young man. And Khalid commands the machinery of violence of the whole modern society."

Back in reality, Omar looked at the green rising curve leaping on his phone screen and let out a long breath. At the same time, inside the Dubai headquarters, Khalid was glaring furiously at the frozen account; he ordered his men to intensify surveillance, swearing to seize control of the ancient coin. Yusuf witnessed the fortune rising, yet felt no joy in his heart; he worried that Omar's ambition would in the end devour the family.

Fatima's mouth curled up in an almost imperceptible way; she knew well the value of intelligence. She promised to open a safe passage for Omar and ensure that key figures survived, in exchange for a return flow of the family's fortune value. The action in the sandbox succeeded, the fortune value in the modern world rose in an instant, the wealthy family's assets were stabilized, and Khalid's palace-forcing plan was forced to pause because of the fortune reversal.

Omar's pupils contracted sharply. The back of the ancient coin? He had always thought the ancient coin was a pure symbol of power; could some secret still be hidden on it? He lowered his head to look at the coin in his hand, his fingertip lightly stroking its smooth back surface. In his perception, there seemed to be an almost invisible fine pattern there, winding and twisting like a blood vessel.

At the same time, at the other end of the city, inside Khalid's private clubhouse, beyond the huge floor-to-ceiling glass windows, the city's lights blazed like a dream. Khalid toyed in his hand with an ancient coin identical to the one in Omar's hand, but on the back of his coin there was shockingly engraved a blood-red symbol, exactly matching the pattern Omar had just sensed.

Omar did not raise his head, only projected the data from the tablet into the air. The red curve plunged like a cliff, corresponding to the loss of a key variable on the eve of the Battle of Hattin. His tone was calm: "If it is not corrected, the modern assets will face a sovereign fund withdrawal within seventy-two hours. Uncle Yusuf, this is survival, not gambling."

He took a deep breath and made his decision. He picked up his phone, operated it quickly a few times, and sent the temporary key to control of the ancient coin to an encrypted offline account. This was his trump card, and also his pledge of allegiance. Whatever lay ahead, he had to ensure that this system could activate automatically at the critical moment, even if he was no longer in this world.

"Do not stop him." Khalid stood up and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, his figure tall and intensely oppressive. "Let him go to that 'deep zone.' That is the last nail our family buried, and also the thing I most want to destroy. If Omar can come out alive, it means he still has use value; if he dies..."

Omar stopped, turned back toward the mouth of the alley, and darkness swallowed the end of the street. He felt the ancient coin in his palm growing hot, a heat that seemed about to pierce his skin and burn his soul. He looked at his wrist, where at some point a red mark had appeared, its shape twisted, just like the symbol on the back of Khalid's ancient coin.

Yusuf pushed the door open and entered, his footsteps heavy and oppressive; the old man's brows were tightly locked, and his gaze stabbed like a knife toward the ancient coin in Omar's hand. The old man's voice was hoarse: "Omar, the family's credit points have fallen below the warning line. If you keep consuming them, the foundation of the Hadid consortium will collapse in an instant. This is not your private property; it is the painstaking work of three generations."

A female merchant in a dark blue robe came walking through the dust and sand; she was Fatima Zaid, her eyes sharp as an eagle's. She sized Omar up, a probing note in her tone: "Your eyes do not look like those of a wanderer from this era, Omar. Tell me, what have you brought that makes you worth my stopping in this desperate situation?"

"You know what to do." Yusuf turned and walked toward the door, his figure growing ever lonelier in the morning light. "I want you to disappear. Before Khalid makes his move, take the core data of the ancient coin and enter the deep zone. There will be no protection from me there, and no points of yours to use. You will face the dark side of this world alone."

Heavy, slow footsteps sounded behind him. Yusuf stood at the door, his back tall yet stooped, as if every inch of muscle bore a thousand years of weight. He slowly turned around; the wrinkles on his face were like cracks in a dried riverbed, and complex emotions intertwined within them: anger, disappointment, and a trace of unspeakable pity.

Yusuf stopped, his back to him, his voice cold as iron: "That is the family's first refuge, and also its final tomb. Only there can the ancient coin truly leave our control and enter a blind spot no force can spy on. But you must understand: once you enter, there is no way back."

At the instant he touched the ancient coin, his consciousness receded like a tide. When he opened his eyes again, Omar was in an oasis camp outside Amman, heat waves distorting the horizon. As a caravan guide, he was now trapped in a desperate situation: the supply route had been cut off, the enemy's cavalry was approaching, and a sense of isolated crisis drowned him like a tide.

"You consumed three hundred of the family's core credit points, Omar." Yusuf's voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping over rough rock. "To preserve those bloodlines that did not need to be sacrificed, you gambled the survival of the entire branch line. You think you are preserving the core, but in fact you are overdrawing the foundation."

"Omar, you are bleeding. Your fortune value is dropping rapidly. That is not protection; that is the price. The moment you touched the back of the ancient coin, you had already offered yourself as a sacrifice to that old god. Khalid knows this, and Yusuf knows it too. They are all waiting for you to bleed."

Late at night, Yusuf dialed an encrypted phone, his voice low: "Khalid, the exact time Omar intervened in the sandbox last night was three in the morning, and the place was the basement level of the old house in Riyadh." He hung up, staring with complex eyes at the sleeping Omar; the crack in the family had quietly begun to grow.

He grabbed the ancient coin on the table; the metal surface was cold and piercing, yet seemed to beat faintly as if alive. He pushed open the bedroom window, and fresh, biting air poured in, stirring the loose hair on his forehead. He needed a place for a quick transfer, a place with no family watchers.

Omar quickly adjusted his strategy and said in a low voice: "Fatima, I know the enemy lying in ambush on the northern line is only three hundred cavalry, not the rumored five hundred. As long as you follow my guidance and avoid three passes, your caravan can preserve its goods and obtain a pass order from the tribal council of elders."

Khalid turned around, a bloodthirsty light flashing in his eyes: "Then the power of the ancient coin will belong completely to me. Tell the men to clean out all witnesses. And watch Yusuf. If he dares contact Omar again, make him disappear forever into the night."

The lingering sound of the hung-up phone echoed in the dim room, like a cold needle piercing the silence Yusuf had deliberately maintained. He did not leave at once, but stood in the shadows, his gaze piercing the dim bedroom and landing on Omar's young yet tense face.

Omar turned around and looked straight into the elder's eyes. He did not defend himself, nor did he show fear. In the sandbox, he had seen too much rout and rebirth. He knew the "overdrawing" Yusuf spoke of truly existed, but he understood even better the principle that "if the core is not preserved, there is no foundation."

Omar's heart tightened. As expected, the rules in the sandbox could not be fully mapped onto reality. Khalid's palace-forcing had paused not because he admitted defeat, but because he was waiting for the best moment, waiting for the moment when Omar's fortune value was exhausted and his defenses weakest.

Omar clenched his fist, his nails digging deep into his palm. Entering the deep zone meant completely leaving the family's protection, and also meant he would have to face Khalid's pursuit alone, as well as the deeper unknown forces behind the sandbox.

He realized that from the very beginning, none of them had been the players. They were only pieces on the board, used to consume each other's fortune. And the real player was hiding deep in the shadows, smiling as he waited for the final piece to fall.

Yusuf did not answer, only nodded slightly, then pushed the door open and left. The creak of the door hinge sounded especially harsh in the empty room, like the end of some ancient ritual, and also the beginning of another storm.

Omar stood before the window, looking at the street outside. A black Maybach drove slowly past, its windows tightly closed, the figure inside invisible. He knew those eyes were watching him. Khalid's hunters were already in place.

Omar was running, sweat soaking his clothes. He ducked into a narrow alley, his heart pounding like a drum. His phone vibrated again; this time it was Fatima's voice, processed to sound eerie and distorted:

"I will go," Omar said. "But you must help me with one thing. Keep Fatima's line open. If I am besieged in the deep zone, I need an exit in the real world."

"Yes, sir. He just left the old house in Riyadh and is moving toward the city center. Yusuf seems to have had a dispute with him, but the specific content of the conversation was blocked by encryption interference and cannot be cracked."

Khalid gave a cold laugh and lightly set the ancient coin in his hand on the tabletop. The coin landed with a crisp clink, as if declaring the approach of the endgame.

Blood was seeping from his fingertips, dripping onto the ground, evaporating in an instant, leaving no trace behind, only a rusty smell of blood.

Yusuf was silent for a long time. His gaze fell on the coffee cup in Omar's hand; the liquid gave off steam, yet was cold and piercing.

"Have you found him?" Khalid's voice was lazy and dangerous, carrying an eerie calm.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated. It was a text message from an unknown number, only one short line:

"Have you thought it through?" Omar did not turn back, his voice calm to a frightening degree.

"On the back of the ancient coin is engraved your blood name. Do not let it bleed dry."

Was that the mark of the bloodline? Or the rune of a curse?

"The deep zone?" Omar pressed.

Omar raised his head and looked at the sky. The neon lights above the city flickered uncertainly, like countless spying eyes. He gripped the ancient coin tightly and turned to charge into deeper darkness, where his unknown fate lay, and also the family's last thread of life -- or its complete destruction.