The tent was plunged into darkness, but neither of them stood up to light the oil lamp, and the conversation continued in the darkness.

"Now, it is the people of Yan who have the power to end the war," Dingle said.

"This seems like a cold joke. As the initiator of this war between countries, the decision to end the war lies in the hands of our enemies." Dylan laughed at himself.

"Yeah, we can't beat them, so what can we do?" Perhaps because they couldn't see each other's expressions in the dim light, Dingle laughed at himself.

"It's so shameful. Our dignity is being trampled upon." Dylan said, touching his face.

"Compared to dignity, the indisputable fact is that more and more people are dying. The fall of Sunham Province has made it impossible for us to know what the place looks like now. A million people have been killed in the army alone. I don't even want to imagine what kind of life those civilians are living now." Dingle's expression became gloomy again.

"Yes, although I have experienced it in the past, this time...it brings a different feeling..." Dylan sighed.

"Sir.....Because this is...a war that could have been avoided, but now, we have to bear the price."

"I don't want to admit what you said, but maybe... you are right." As these words fell, the cork was pulled out, and in the darkness, Dingle heard the sound of wine pouring into his throat.

"Hiss--" Dylan took a breath of cold air. The spicy wine made his throat hurt slightly.

"I think we have to do this before this war ends..."

"Talk to the Yan people." Dylan said.

Dingle's eyes suddenly opened wide, and they seemed to glow in the darkness. He immediately followed up:

"Yes, sir. Fundamentally, the conflict between us and Yan Country has not yet reached the point of life and death. Maybe... maybe we can end it all with just one negotiation!"

Dylan couldn't see Dingle's expression, but after hearing these anxious words, he couldn't help but sneered:

"Then you are too self-righteous."

"You have to know that actively seeking negotiations means we have to pay something."

"As for the Yan people who have the upper hand, what do they want to get? Or even...whether they will give you this opportunity or not."

Dinger frowned. "But we have to try to take this step. Do we have to admit defeat only when the whole country is engulfed in war?"

"You look like a capitulator now, Dingle." Dylan's voice was cold.

Dingle did not refute this accusation, but said:

"Surrender? Maybe. If this can save our country and reduce the casualties of our people, then I would rather be a surrenderer."

"Dinger, have you completely forgotten the spirit of the Golts?!"

"Times have changed, sir. We used to fight for survival, but is it the same now? I cannot accept the demise of our country. We must make choices to preserve our country." Dingle shook his head.

"Do you think the emperor will lower his posture and admit defeat in front of the people of Yan?!" Dylan continued to question.

"Everything the emperor does is for our people, and this time, I believe he will realize what is the right choice!" Dinggel replied.

"You are too young, Dingle. You don't understand what kind of man the emperor is. He only knows how to lead the army. Even if he sheds his last drop of blood, he will die on the battlefield fighting the enemy!"

"You have no idea what he is pursuing by doing all this."

Hearing this, Dingle was stunned: "What...what?"

"You'll know." In the darkness, Dylan suddenly stood up and slapped Dingle on the shoulder.

Then, Dingle found that Dylan stuffed two letters into his hands, and at the same time, the drunken mouth sounded in his ears:

"This is my handwritten letter, one for the Emperor and one for you."

"I have arranged for a team of messengers to go down the mountain immediately. You will follow them down to Salivia. After you hand the letter to the emperor to him, you can open the letter for you."

Although he didn't know what was written in the letter, Dingle's face changed after hearing these words. He could feel how determined Dylan was at this moment.

"Sir, how can I ......"

Before he could finish his words, Dylan continued, "What's the point of a surrenderist like you staying here?"

"To disrupt the morale of the army and get more people to surrender to the Yan people before the war?"

"I don't want to see this happen. Not shooting you is already the biggest concession I've made. I've never been lenient with guys like you before."

"Sir...I..." Dingle started to speak but was interrupted again.

"Don't try to convince me with Harris's words. He is at the top of the mountain and it is inconvenient for him to come and go. If it were convenient, I would personally pull him down. He will be punished for disobeying military orders."

"He decided to stay on the top of the mountain and blast it. He is ready to sacrifice himself, so I forgive him. But you, don't even think about disobeying my orders!"

Dinger then said, "Sir, didn't you just say that we need to negotiate with the Yan people?"

"But now you..."

"The next battle is a negotiation, kid, do you understand?" Dylan touched Dingle's forehead, almost face to face with him.

This also allowed Dingle to clearly see his serious, resolute, yet slightly sad expression in the dim light.

It was a complicated expression, so Dingle had no idea what Dylan was thinking.

"Okay, it's getting late, you should set off, the signalmen are waiting for you." Dylan straightened up and said.

"Sir...I..." Dingle still looked hesitant.

"Get up! Get down the mountain! Get to Salivia as soon as possible! This is an urgent mission! Even more important than the upcoming battle!" Dylan shouted angrily.

"Yes, sir!" Dingle could no longer refuse and stood up immediately.

"Go ahead." Dylan turned and walked towards the oil lamp, saying with his back to Dingle.

Dingle had so many questions he wanted to ask, but seeing Dylan's rejection look, he knew he would not get an answer. He touched the letter in his hand and then put it in his arms.

He walked to the door of the tent with a worried look on his face, but couldn't help turning his head and asking, "Sir, when will the negotiations for this battle begin?"

With a "puff", the wick was lit, and the dancing flame illuminated the tent. Dylan did not turn around, but just said:

"Before the last drop of blood is shed."

Dingle turned his face away, his face had turned pale. He opened the curtain and stepped out. A cold wind like a knife blew in his face. What came into view were the fully armed soldiers stationed in various places. They were waiting for their battle.

Dingle walked away from the tent step by step, and at this moment, the sound of the federal national anthem came faintly from the tent behind him.

'The strong wind cannot knock us down, our bodies stand firm on the ground like steel.'

'The blizzard cannot cover us, our blood is as hot as fire.'

'Our chariots rushed like lightning, heading in the direction of the strong wind.'

'We charge forward, deep into the enemy's positions! Pierce their chests with our steel rifles!'

In the deserted tent, Dylan closed his eyes and softly chanted the federal national anthem that he had composed twelve years ago.

Above the pass, on the towering peaks, the howling wind blew even more violently. Inside the shelter, Harris was also singing this song with the few remaining soldiers, because at this moment, only this could give them strength.

Unlike Dylan, on the top of this mountain, they shouted loudly with excited expressions:

"Fight!"

"Fight!"

'Where is the pride of the Empire's soldiers?'

'Fight! Fight!'

'To die for our country is the highest honor.'

'If the goddess of victory abandons us, if the enemy's bullets pierce our chests, if we can no longer return to our hometown.'

'At least we can die with honor!'