Inside the Imperial Court's main army camp, Zhu Xuanye and the others sat trapped in a city of worry, their brows tightly furrowed.
"Your Highness, the enemy's offensive is growing fiercer by the day. Powerful experts keep arriving, and we can't hold on much longer."
Shen Chongyuan spoke in a deep voice, his body covered in wounds.
"Your Highness, we can't withstand this any longer. Retreat!"
"Your Highness, we have already done everything we could. If the Imperial Court sends no reinforcements, we can only withdraw."
"Your Highness, if this continues, all of us will die on the battlefield. We beg Your Highness to make a decision quickly."
"..."
Everyone pressed him in unison, demanding that Spirit Yang Prefecture be abandoned.
"Everyone, if we withdraw now, the enemy will certainly pursue us after their victory."
"Moreover, if Spirit Yang Prefecture falls, the enemy can drive straight in without obstruction. Where else can we retreat to?"
Zhu Xuanye knew that the situation hung by a thread, but he knew even more clearly that they could not retreat.
Once the army withdrew, the Imperial Court's morale would collapse completely, and they would never again be able to contend against the enemy.
At his words, everyone's expressions darkened.
Their foundations all lay within the Great Flame Dynasty. If the Imperial Court was defeated and Great Yan changed hands, they would suffer enormous losses and might even decline from then on.
But compared with their own lives, they could still tell which weighed heavier and which lighter.
As long as they survived, even if they lost their current interests, their Lineages could rise again from the ashes.
If they died on the battlefield, however, their Lineages would instead be gnawed clean by other factions. There was no need to consider how they should choose.