No one had expected Yang Ying to send the enemy general flying with a single arrow.
Everyone was so stunned they couldn't react at first. Fortunately, they were all battle-hardened veterans, so no one made a fool of themselves. Two generals closest to where the enemy had fallen went over to capture him, only to discover, to their astonishment, that he was still alive. "He survived that fall?"
"Of course he did. Just look at how strong he is."
"Didn't he look that young when we were fighting him?"
During their earlier exchange, he had clearly looked like a man in his thirties or forties, with gaunt cheeks, a hooked nose, a pronounced brow, and deep-set eyes. He'd radiated an unmistakable keep-away-from-me aura. The man lying on the ground looked very similar, but his features were clearly much younger. His cheeks were relatively full, and from appearance alone, he looked about eighteen or nineteen—somewhere between an inexperienced boy and a steady young man.
"Why are you asking so many questions?"
The colleague who had come with him kicked him in the shin, then gave the man who couldn't get up a hard kick, sending him rolling several times. He flicked the long whip in his hand, and like a nimble venomous snake, it coiled around the enemy general's neck. He gave it a twist, a pull, and a tug, dragging the man back.
They bound him hand and foot!
To prevent any mishaps, they first sealed the assailant's Dantian.
The enemy general gradually came to his senses. The first thing he saw was that he had become a prisoner. His bell-like eyes blazed with a ferocity that seemed ready to devour someone. He tried to speak, but his breath caught. His Qi and Blood ran backward through his meridians, and