The battlefield was eerily quiet now, save for the crackle of fires and the occasional groan of the wounded. The stench of blood and smoke clung to the air, a grim reminder of the violence that had just unfolded.
Lü Bu—or rather, the man now inhabiting his body—stood amidst the carnage. His halberd was buried in the ground beside him, the massive weapon still stained with the blood of fallen enemies. His breath came heavy and ragged, his muscles aching, but a strange exhilaration coursed through him.
He should have been horrified by the devastation, but instead, there was an undeniable satisfaction in the power he had just wielded.
Around him, his soldiers were beginning to regroup. Their faces bore expressions of awe and fear, their eyes fixed on him as though he were something otherworldly.
"My lord," one of them ventured hesitantly, stepping forward. His voice trembled, and his armor was streaked with grime. "The enemy has retreated, but they may return. What are your orders?"
The words jolted him from his thoughts. His orders. These men were looking to him for guidance, their lives resting in his hands. He nodded slowly, straightening to his full height.
"Gather the wounded and prepare to move out," he said, his voice steady. It felt strange, issuing commands in a voice that wasn't his own. "We'll return to the camp and fortify our position."
The soldier bowed quickly and rushed off to carry out the orders.
As the men began their grim work, he turned inward, seeking answers.
"System," he muttered under his breath. "We need to talk. Start explaining."
A calm, mechanical voice responded in his mind, its tone devoid of emotion.
"Tutorial mode continuing. Host has successfully completed the first objective, solidifying your status as Lü Bu. You are now the official wielder of this body and its destiny."
The weight of those words settled heavily on him. He clenched his fists, his mind racing. "Destiny? Why me? Why this body?"
"Host was selected for your extensive knowledge of this historical era and your potential to alter its course. Lü Bu's unmatched martial prowess is a foundation upon which great change can be built. Your mission is to guide his legacy in a new direction."
He scoffed, shaking his head. "So I'm some kind of pawn in your game? And what happens if I refuse to play along?"
"Non-compliance will result in the termination of host functionality. Survival is contingent upon fulfilling system objectives."
The blood drained from his face. "You mean if I don't do what you want, I'll die?"
"Correct."
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "Of course. Stranded in ancient China, stuck in someone else's body, and now blackmailed by a system. Fantastic."
The system offered no response, its silence only fueling his frustration.
He sighed, wrenching his halberd from the ground and slinging it over his shoulder. The weapon felt lighter now, almost natural, as though it were an extension of himself. He glanced around at the battlefield one last time before turning toward the horizon.
"If I'm rewriting history," he muttered under his breath, "then I'm doing it on my terms."
---
The march back to the camp was slow and somber. The soldiers moved in near silence, their faces drawn with exhaustion and grief. The dirt path beneath their feet was slick with mud, and the faint cries of the injured echoed in the distance.
He walked at the head of the column, his presence alone keeping the men from collapsing under the weight of their losses. The sheer size of his body, the aura of strength and power he exuded, seemed to reassure them, even if he wasn't entirely sure of himself.
When they reached the camp, the sight was both familiar and foreign. Tents were scattered haphazardly, their canvas walls weathered and torn. Smoke rose from smoldering cookfires, and the smell of unwashed bodies mingled with the metallic tang of blood.
As they entered, a figure approached, his robes disheveled but his eyes sharp with intelligence.
"Chen Gong," he said instinctively, the name rising unbidden to his lips.
The man stopped and bowed deeply. "My lord. It is good to see you return. We had feared the worst when the enemy regrouped."
"There was no worst," he replied curtly, stepping past the strategist. "The enemy is in retreat. For now."
Chen Gong straightened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied him. "You seem... different, my lord. Perhaps the trials of battle have strengthened your resolve?"
He stiffened at the remark. Lü Bu's arrogance was infamous, but he couldn't afford to alienate one of his key allies—at least, not yet.
"War changes a man," he said after a pause, keeping his tone cold and distant. "I'll expect a full report on our forces' condition by sundown."
Chen Gong hesitated, then nodded. "As you command, my lord."
As the strategist disappeared into one of the larger tents, he exhaled slowly. Maintaining the facade of Lü Bu's personality would be harder than he'd expected.
"System," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "What's the real goal here? What's your endgame?"
The mechanical voice returned, crisp and unyielding. "Your ultimate objective is to unify this fractured land under your rule, reshaping the course of history. Sub-objectives will be provided to ensure progress. Success will grant you rewards, while failure..."
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Failure equals death. Got it."
He looked out over the camp, watching as his men tended to the wounded and fortified their defenses. Despite the exhaustion etched into their faces, there was still a spark of hope—a belief that their leader could guide them to victory.
For the first time since his arrival, he felt a flicker of determination.
"Fine," he said quietly, gripping the halberd tightly. "If history wants to remember me as a warrior, then I'll make sure it remembers me as a ruler too."