Alien Races' Sophistry, Attempting to Salvage Defeat

The armor-piercing awl was buried deep in the scorched earth, Chen Wuya's fingers still resting on its hilt, his knuckles faintly white from gripping it for so long. He stood atop a shattered wall, his gaze like nails, locked tightly on the cluster of battered soldiers to the southeast. Wind swept ashes across the battlefield. Several tattered command banners swayed amid the chaos, and through them, a figure could vaguely be seen in silver armor, holding a Fang Tian Ji, standing atop a high slope.

Bai Zhi silently shifted to a position half a zhang behind and beside him. Her flexible sword remained sheathed, her hand merely settling lightly over its hilt. Following Chen Wuya's gaze, she said in a voice kept extremely low, "They're about to talk."

Before her words had faded, a man emerged from the enemy formation with a white flag raised high in both hands. He walked slowly, but deliberately made himself conspicuous. Dressed in light armor, with a haggard face, he seemed unsteady on his feet, like someone exhausted from prolonged battle forcing himself onward. He walked all the way into the open ground between the two armies, stopped, and called out loudly, "Hear this, all members of the alliance army! By order of the Northern Frontier commander, I have come to negotiate peace—we are willing to cede the three southeastern cities in exchange for peace along the border, and bring this slaughter to an end!"

For a moment, silence reigned all around. Scattered fires still burned in the distance, crackling faintly, but the cries of battle had ceased. Many soldiers loosened and then tightened their grips on their weapons, their eyes shifting back and forth between Chen Wuya and the envoy.

Chen Wuya neither moved nor spoke. He merely slowly raised his left hand