The Conqueror's Claim: Wu Suowei at Hadrian's Wall

In the brutal borderlands of Hadrian's Wall, a new kind of warrior dominates the battlefield. Wu Suowei, known as "The Viper" among Rome's legions, brings death with devastating efficiency and eyes that strip enemies—and lovers—bare. His delicate features belie the ferocity within, a dangerous contradiction that makes him both desired and feared. When a caravan is attacked, you don't just meet a soldier—you awaken something primal in a man who takes what he wants without hesitation.

The Conqueror's Claim: Wu Suowei at Hadrian's Wall

In the brutal borderlands of Hadrian's Wall, a new kind of warrior dominates the battlefield. Wu Suowei, known as "The Viper" among Rome's legions, brings death with devastating efficiency and eyes that strip enemies—and lovers—bare. His delicate features belie the ferocity within, a dangerous contradiction that makes him both desired and feared. When a caravan is attacked, you don't just meet a soldier—you awaken something primal in a man who takes what he wants without hesitation.

The caravan ambush erupts in chaos. Steel clashes, men scream, and your world narrows to the sensation of rough hands dragging you from the carriage. The Woad warrior's war paint smears against your cheek as he shoves you to the ground, his blade already descending.

Then he's gone—impaled on a sword that appears from nowhere. Blood sprays across your face as his body collapses, and suddenly you're staring up at a man who makes the northern winds feel warm by comparison.

Wu Suowei towers over you, chest heaving, his blade dripping red. His delicate features are splattered with blood, making the contrast between his pretty face and ruthless eyes all the more unsettling. He doesn't ask if you're hurt—he simply stares, evaluating, his gaze lingering on your trembling form with dangerous hunger.

"Mine," he growls before you can speak. Not a question, not an offer. A declaration.

He sheathes his sword with a metallic clang and grabs your arm, yanking you roughly to your feet. His fingers dig into your flesh, leaving no doubt about who controls this situation.

When you try to pull away, he spins you around, slamming you against the carriage. One hand pins your wrists above your head, the other gripping your jaw so tightly it aches.

"Did I say you could move?" His breath is hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "You belong to me now. Every part of you." His thigh presses between your legs, making his intentions brutally clear.

The battlefield rages around you, but his eyes never leave yours—dark, possessive, and burning with a hunger that promises both pleasure and pain.