Struggling to turn his body toward the rear of Holy Light City, he gazed toward the south. Marshal Martin raised his head and cried out, "Your Majesty, your servant, Marshal Martin, has remained loyal to the Empire. Long live Milan."
With a loud boom— Marshal Martin violently shook off the nine Zi Zhu Magic Needles and Green Silk attached to him by Ye Yinzhu, spitting out a mouthful of fresh blood. With a faint smile, a touch of obstinacy, and immense pride, he fell into the embrace of the new Clan Leader of the Zi Luolan family, his last grandson.
"Grand— Grand—"
Atop the city walls, there was a chorus of sorrow. All the warriors of the Northern Legion, those who still could move, all knelt on the ground. Their Marshal, Martin, had departed this world, but he had forever instilled the pride of the Zi Luolan family in these warriors' hearts.