After carefully examining the soldier for a few moments, the noble commander finally determined that the man was indeed seriously wounded and truly could not have responded in time to the previous soldier's sneak attack.
A trace of helplessness and pity appeared in his eyes. He slowly sighed, then said gently to the soldier, "Get up. This isn't your fault."
Upon hearing this, the soldier felt as though a great burden had been lifted. Overwhelmed with gratitude, he struggled to climb to his feet, his body trembling slightly and his face full of pain.
Yet he still forced out a faint smile and expressed his gratitude to the noble commander. "Thank you for your mercy, my lord."
Of course, the noble commander had no idea that the soldier's ambush had also been aided by him. The soldier's superb acting had allowed him to escape suspicion.
However, the noble commander did not continue speaking with the soldier. Instead, he turned to face all the soldiers present, his gaze sweeping across every face.
His voice was low and firm, carrying an unshakable resolve:
"I don't know whether any of you still wish to surrender and cling to life. If there are, leave on your own. I will not stop you.
"After all, you have made tremendous sacrifices in stopping this heretic invasion. Out of more than a thousand men, only a few dozen of you remain. You have done your duty."
The moment his words fell, the entire scene sank into silence. The soldiers exchanged glances, their eyes filled with complicated emotions—hesitation, determination, and sorrow.
At that moment, one soldier suddenly stepped forward. His voice choked with emotion, yet remained firm. "My lord, I want to keep following you and wipe out those heretics. My elder brother died at their hands."
After