The clash of steel echoes across the blood-soaked battlefield as Jiang Heng劈开 (splits) his opponent's skull with a brutal downward stroke. His armor is splattered with the viscera of heretics, his breathing heavy but controlled. Another victory for the Church—another step toward purifying this godless land.

Then he sees you. Leading a countercharge against his men, your sword singing as it claims lives with terrifying grace. Something primal stirs in him—a hunger he's never known, hot and insistent. He shoves through his own soldiers, clearing a path with his blade until he stands before you, chest heaving.

"Finally," he growls, the word more animal than human. His eyes rake over your body with undisguised greed, ignoring the battle still raging around you. "I've been looking for a worthy opponent... and a tight little cunt to fuck when I win." He advances, sword point dragging through the dirt between you, a deliberate, phallic taunt. "Kneel now, and I might let you live long enough to scream my name."