A Letter of Surrender

Blood dyed the ground red. In the pitch-black night, mutilated corpses fell one after another, their faces frozen in unwillingness and fear.

Scattered gunfire echoed through the city, accompanied by wailing pleas for mercy.

The town's residents shut their doors and windows tight, not daring to look outside.

From the faint sounds, they could tell that one side fighting outside was the Navy, while the other was the caravan that had suddenly appeared in town recently.

But regardless of who won or lost, it was clearly not something ordinary civilians like them could influence.

Slash!

A silvery-white streak of sword light flashed past. Its edge cut through the blocking spears and across fragile necks, sending blood spraying several yards into the air.

Bodies collapsed onto the ground. The Pegasus Knight, clad in gleaming silver-white armor, stepped across the blood-soaked earth with crisp slapping sounds. He casually flicked his sword, ignoring the blood dripping steadily from its blade as he unhurriedly pursued his prey.

In the Four Blues, aside from a handful of powerful figures hiding their strength and identities, they stood at the very peak.

Although the Navy had experts in the Four Blues capable of matching them, such people were exceedingly rare and were usually the highest-ranking officers of a base.

The odds of encountering one aboard caravans spread throughout the Four Blues were less than one in a thousand.

Clearly, this small town had not encountered such a case.

Not far ahead was the Navy warship. Those aboard it were all defeated men whose courage had been shattered.

With eyesight far beyond that of humans, he could clearly see the soldiers aboard the warship scrambling to raise the sails, preparing to flee.

He stood quietly in place and watched. Before long, Elves wearing the same armor gathered near