Something inside Yan Ling shattered once he heard those humiliating words. Even though it was directed to the original Yan Ling but now that he had occupied his body, it felt like he was the one getting insulted, compared to a prize.
Wei Lifeng rose to his feet, turning away as if the matter were already decided. He had barely taken few steps when behind him, Yan Ling let out a broken, furious laugh.
"So that's it," he said with a raw voice. "I always wondered why Wei Bing's troops—a prosperous nation from every direction—kept trying to cross the Cang Qing Mountain Range, calling for the war again again and again."
His laughter echoed across the battlefield, bitter and unrestrained.
"And now you're telling me—It was all because you wanted me as your war prize?!"
His voice rose, booming across the open field.
"You could have—!"
"—Could have just asked for you in exchange for your kingdom," Wei Lifeng interrupted calmly, without turning back.
"Yes. I could have."
He paused, then looked over his shoulder, eyes gleaming with ruthless satisfaction.
"But where would be the pleasure in that?"
He smiled.
"The feeling of defeating the invincible majestic General with my own hands, watching him kneel in front of my eyes and claiming him as my war prize—"
Wei Lifeng's voice dropped, reverent and cruel all at once.
"This pleasure is incomparable to anything else in this world."
Yan Ling said nothing afterwards, just lowered his eyes.The hurt, anger, and disbelief burned too fiercely, choking every word before it could escape his lips.
Wei Lifeng turned to his army, authority radiating from him.
The battlefield, still echoing with the remnants of victory, seemed to still as his gaze swept across the ranks. Blood-stained soldiers straightened instinctively, spines locking into place.
"The war is over," Wei Lifeng said, his tone calm, measured and final.
"Prepare to return back to the capital. We will be moving until night."
Relief flickered through the army but before anyone could move, his eyes shifted—back to the kneeling figure bound in chains.
"Gather the prisoners of war," he continued. "They will be taken back alive and no one is to harm them unless I specifically say so."
"Yes, General!" the army thundered as one.
His eyes moved to Vice General, Jiang Fu Qin, a woman of remarkable height. Her well-proportioned build and upright stance lending her an undeniable presence on the battlefield.
"Make sure, General Yan doesn't try something stupid again." he added, voice lowering by a fraction, "Take good care of him throughout the journey."
"Yes, General."
Fu Qin instinctively bowed in response before taking her instance again.
Satisfied, Wei Lifeng turned away. "Assign YinLuo to tend to his wounds," he ordered, already walking. "She will accompany him in the carriage."
"Yes, General." Fu Qin made her way to the kneeling figure, ready to carry out the order.
...
The order to withdraw rippled through the camp like a controlled tide. War drums sounded once—low and final—and the army began its march back toward HanLing, the capital city of Wei Bing.
At the very front rode the vanguard: elite cavalry clad in blackened armor, their spears upright and banners unfurled. They cleared the path ahead, eyes sharp for ambush or pursuit.
Behind them came the king's carriage.
It was positioned slightly behind the vanguard but well ahead of the main forces, drawn by four armored horses and flanked on both sides by mounted guards of the royal guard.
A short distance behind the king's carriage followed the general's escort. Yan Ling's carriage was placed deliberately apart from the others. Heavy iron chains bound the carriage wheels to prevent sudden movement, while a tight ring of guards surrounded it on horseback and on foot alike.
Two female attendants rode alongside, officially tasked with tending to his wounds and ensuring he remained alive for the journey.
Yan Ling noticed everything.
Beyond him came the rest of the prisoners of war—captured generals, officers, and surviving soldiers of Shen Qi—packed into reinforced prison carriages and bound in chains.
The bulk of the army followed last. Infantry marched in disciplined rows, shields strapped to their backs, weapons cleaned but ready. Supply carts and wounded soldiers came next, accompanied by medics and servants moving on foot. Rear cavalry closed the formation, ensuring nothing approached from behind.
Above them all, banners of Wei Bing Empire snapped in the wind, inflicting a direct pain to Yan Ling and his captured soldiers.
...
Something was very wrong.
Yan Ling had known it from the moment Wei Lifeng dismounted his horse and knelt before him on the battlefield.
That scene was not in the novel.
He leaned back against the wooden frame of the carriage, eyes half-lidded, breathing steady as though exhaustion alone weighed on him. In truth, his mind was racing faster than the wheels that carried him toward Wei Bing.
In the novel, War Prize, the fallen general was never granted this much… presence at the begining.There had been no face-to-face confrontation, close contact or any kind of declaration of ownership made beneath an open sky.
The enemy general had remained distant, unseen, untouchable—until they reached the capital.
Only the female attendants came from time to time. Night after night, at every temporary camp, they would enter his carriage with soft voices and careful hands—feeding him, cleaning his wounds, or reminding him that if his soldiers were still breathing, it was only because of his compliance.
And Wei Lifeng…,Yan Ling's jaw tightened imperceptibly.
In the novel, the man kept him alive for a single purpose—recruitment. A brilliant general was a prize worth breaking, a weapon too valuable to discard. He wanted Yan Ling to serve under his command, to fight from his side.
When Yan Ling refused, the king did not kill him. He turned instead to torture and coercion. The pain was controlled to the finest degree—never fatal, yet relentless enough to strip away his will to live.
Every broken bone purchased his soldiers a night of rest, every humiliation ensured they were fed and allowed to sleep in peace.
Gradually, the mighty general weakened—not because he was defeated, but because he chose to endure in order to keep his soldiers safe. Somewhere along the way, his dedication and unyielding will drew Wei Li Feng's attention.
Hatred slowly dulled into admiration, and by the time General Yan Ling understood what was happening, Wei Li Feng had already decided to never let him go, determined to shower him with affection until he accepted it and eventually fall for him.
But none of that had happened. Instead—
that shameless bastard had claimed me outright. Is he gay? Ofcourse he will be...what even I'm asking...oh no..., Yan ling really wanted to scream out loud, pull his hairs and run far away from that carriage but all he could do was to pretend to be the majestic general and sit calmly.
But whatever happened today including that part where he declared me as his war prize, Yan Ling's fingers curled against the wood, as he felt a chill creep up his spine. This version of Wei Li Feng was not following the path he remembered, and that made him far more dangerous than the man in the novel.
He is a complete stranger now, and that alone is reason enough to stay alert. I have no way of knowing his intentions, his motives, or what move he will make next. Damn...!
Something had shifted the moment Yan Ling opened his eyes in this body. Was it because of him?
Or was it someone else?
The world felt… alert. Like a chessboard where too many pieces were already in motion. If this was no longer the original plot, then the rules he remembered were useless.
And that terrified him far more than torture ever could.
Yan Ling closed his eyes briefly.
This Li Feng wasn't waiting to break him. He was waiting to keep him and if that was true… then Yan Ling was already standing at the edge of a far worse fate than the novel ever dared to write.
He was still lost in thought when something shifted in the darkness. A flicker of golden light slipped past the thin bars of the carriage.
Yan Ling's eyes snapped open.
His heart lurched—but he did not gasp, did not flinch. He forced his body to remain still, his expression unchanged, even when his every instinct was ready to scream.
That wasn't a soldier for sure.
There had been no footsteps. No disturbance in the torchlight outside. Yet the air itself felt… wrong, as if something unseen had brushed past the carriage and left the world holding its breath.
Yan Ling stiffened.
Before he could even turn his head, the space in front of him warped—subtly at first, like heat bending the air, then violently, as though reality itself had been peeled open.
Someone was actually there.
.
.
.
To be continued...