Advancing Together, The Allied Army's New Journey

The horn blast tore through the morning mist. Chen Wuya stood at the edge of the drill ground, numbness from last night's clash still lingering in his right arm. He did not move, merely lowered his gaze to the unsharpened short sword at his waist—the edge of the iron strip was already slightly curled, as though some force had twisted it hard. Bai Zhi's hand still rested on his left wrist, strands of cold-vein true qi seeping into his meridians and suppressing the foreign force that had yet to disperse from within him.

She said nothing, but her steps remained no more than half a pace from his.

In the distance, the drums gradually rose as the allied army formed its ranks. The foreign soldiers wore armor and carried spears, while the Central Plains reinforcements bore banners and gripped blades. The two forces slowly converged beneath the morning light, their scattered footfalls melding into one. Dust drifted low in the air, plated with a faint gold by the rising sun.

Chen Wuya took a deep breath and stepped forward. With every step, his right arm's meridians felt as though fine needles were piercing them, yet he held his back straight. He knew countless eyes were fixed on him now—not merely the allied soldiers', but also those who had once questioned this union.

On the raised platform, the foreign tribes' new king sat astride his horse. Clad in a silver-scaled battle robe, he held his command flag half-raised as his gaze swept across the field. When his eyes fell upon Chen Wuya, they paused briefly before he called out, "Today, we march not for revenge, not to seize land, but to bring this war to an end."

His voice was not loud, yet it carried across the entire drill ground.

Then,