Mediating a Fight and Forcing the Issue

Late at night, Tanbei Gorge, Persian camp.

Within the hastily erected medical tents, the screams and groans of wounded soldiers rose and fell. Basin after basin of filthy bloodwater, severed limbs, and chunks of shattered organs were discarded into the desolate ravines.

Compared to the Pan-Hellenic Alliance, the Persian Empire lagged far behind in medicine. Several generations of Persian emperors had even brought in Greek physicians to serve the royal family at court.

Thus, the mortality rate among Persian wounded had always been far higher than that of the Greeks.

Gradually, the heavy stench of blood spread everywhere. Even the drifting mist seemed stained with a dark crimson hue.

Moreover, corpses that had ceased breathing were continually carried by slave soldiers and tossed into mountain hollows, then set ablaze. The charred stench of roasted flesh drifted outward on the wind.

Within the lamplit camp, the scraping of armor from patrolling troops still could not hold back the suffocating, fearful atmosphere spreading through the ranks.

At the heart of the Persian camp, the blazing white Sacred Flame illuminated everything.

The Immortals concealed in the darkness and stationed around the area cast interwoven, mottled shadows, filling the surroundings with a chilling murderous aura.

Clap...

Inside the tent patterned with bright white flames, the handsome saint with long golden hair casually closed an ancient parchment scroll and turned his torch-bright eyes toward the figure kneeling on one knee below.

"So, he took the initiative to let you return?"

"As you see, Your Highness."

Martha nodded solemnly and briefly recounted her experiences to the saint.

Naturally, she omitted certain embarrassing details, such as serving as someone's body pillow and being told, "We can sleep together sometime."

When those in the tent heard that the Hellenic Army seemed to be continuously expanding its forces and