Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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A half eaten turnip struck him on the cheek. A cabbage leaf slapped wetly against his chest. Still he held his head high, sneering at the crowd as though their scorn did not matter. He tried to shout back, something about legacy, about being misunderstood, but his voice was drowned beneath the jeers.

Liu Bei’s hands clenched into fists, his nails biting into his palms. He loudly scream back, cursing them all for their ingratitude. Had he not given them hope? Had he not promised them a better future?

Then a rotten egg, hurled from somewhere deep in the crowd, hit him squarely in the mouth. The shell cracked and the sulfurous liquid spilled inside.

Liu Bei coughed, gagged, and sputtered, spitting on the ground. The egg left a foul stench on his breath and tongue. That was when his bravado finally faded. He stopped replying. His mouth clamped shut. And he looked upward, whether to the sky, the heavens, or to his ancestors, no one knew.

He closed his eyes.

”How did it come to this?”

The crowd quieted somewhat. The raw fury tempered into something more bitter. A silence fell that was more damning than the screams.

From the side of the square, a court clerk emerged holding a long staff, polished smooth and bearing a crimson ribbon near the tip. Upon its surface, painted boldly in black ink, was a single character: ”刑” meaning execute.

He stepped forward, raised the staff high, and declared in a clear voice, ”The court has found Liu Bei, Liu Xuande, guilty of treason, tyranny, corruption, and the exploitation of his people. By the order of Lord Lie Fan, as the acting governor of Jing Province and guardian of its people, the sentence is death.”

The executioner approached, tall and stoic, his face hidden behind a black cloth. In his hands was a guillotine sword, sharpened for a clean end. He made no declaration, no dramatic flourish. Just a single glance to the clerk, who nodded solemnly.

Liu Bei didn’t beg. He didn’t cry. If anything, his final expression was one of bitter defiance, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed some fear.

The crowd held its breath.

The sword rose.

And with a single, brutal stroke, it fell.

Liu Bei’s head dropped to the ground with a dull thud, his eyes still wide, staring into eternity. A moment of silence followed. Not one voice in the crowd dared cheer. Not yet.

Then a woman, gaunt and wrapped in a patched shawl, whispered, ”It’s over.”

And then another. ”May our sons now rest in peace.”

Slowly, the grief of betrayal began to melt away. In its place came solemn acceptance, and then, the glimmer of hope.

Lie Fan, standing at a balcony overlooking the square, remained still. His eyes locked on the crowd, his jaw tight. Zhuge Liang stood behind him, arms folded into his sleeves, eyes calm.

”Is it done?” Lie Fan asked without turning.

Zhuge Liang bowed slightly. ”Yes, my lord. Justice has been carried out against Liu Bei.”

Lie Fan nodded, but he did not yet turn away. He watched as soldiers began clearing the square, retrieving the body with silent efficiency. A new Chapter had begun. The stain of Liu Bei would remain in memory, but so would the lesson.

”Begin preparations,” Lie Fan finally said. ”We march soon. But first... we must let the people mourn.”

Zhuge Liang bowed again. ”Yes, my lord.”

In the remaining day that followed, Lie Fan made sure the people of Xiangyang were given grain, employment, and hope. Temples held services for those who had died under Liu Bei’s rule. Families were reunited. Markets reopened.

And slowly, with Lie Fan’s effort, trust returned. Not through grand speeches, but through actions. As Lie Fan moved forward in his campaign to unify Jing Province, the city he left behind stood stronger than ever. Not because of his power, but because the people believed in him.

Liu Bei’s name, once whispered with reverence, was now remembered only in cautionary tales. A warning of how ambition without empathy could rot even the noblest claim.

Without Liu Bei’s presence and coordination, his carefully woven tapestry of alliances and influence began to unravel like silk in the rain. The central and southern parts of Jing Province, once loyal under his banner, stood hollow without his voice to rally them or his hand to steady the helm.

In the vacuum of his death, in the eye of the people of the land, those who had once served Liu Bei looked instead to the one who had taken him down, Lie Fan, whose meteoric ascent now cast a long shadow over the land.

Among Liu Bei’s former retinue, there was little hesitation. His generals and advisors, save for the steadfast Ju Shou, bent the knee to Lie Fan with surprising swiftness. Ju Shou, defiant and unmoved, was cast into a prison cell deep within Xiangyang’s inner citadel, guarded day and night.

With his command now undisputed, Lie Fan launched his campaign with unmatched urgency. The Qilin Army and the Xuanwu Army swept down toward the Yangtze like a tide unleashed.

Town after town opened their gates, sometimes before the first horn sounded or the banners even crested the horizon. Liu Bei’s name, once a shield and a banner of hope, now offered no protection as the common folk, weary of war and disillusioned by Liu Bei’s hypocrisy, welcomed the change. Only three towns dared to resist which was Wuling, Lingling, and Guiyang.

But what resistance they offered was fleeting.

At Wuling, the defenders rallied under a veteran commander loyal to the old regime, but he found himself facing the furious assault of Guan Yu. The Green Dragon Crescent Blade danced like a reaper’s scythe, cutting down seasoned men and green conscripts alike. The gates fell in a day.

In Lingling, the defenders believed their walls and thick forests would slow any advance, but Zhang Fei charged through the southern passes like a storm. His roar echoed through the hills, and within hours the city was overwhelmed, the defenders routed.

Guiyang fell last. Zhao Yun, the Silver Dragon of Changshan, led the assault personally. Dressed in glinting steel, he moved like lightning through the battlefield, breaking enemy lines and scattering any hope of resistance. By nightfall, the gates were flung open, and the banners of Lie Fan were hoisted above the ramparts.

The speed and decisiveness of the campaign shocked the land. Word spread like wildfire, carried by merchants, travelers, and spies. But more than the conquest, it was the news of Liu Bei’s execution that sent tremors through the courts and villages alike.

In the halls of Cao Cao, the self instated Chancellor sat stiff and quiet, reading the report with narrowed eyes. He had long considered Liu Bei a useful thorn in the side of his enemies. Now that thorn was gone, and in its place stood a sword.

”Three major towns taken in less than one month,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. ”And Liu Bei executed like a common criminal.”

Xun Yu, standing beside him, nodded grimly. ”Lie Fan moves faster than we anticipated, my lord. With Jing Province fully under his control, he now borders Shi Xie to the south and Liu Zhang to the west.”

Cao Cao’s eyes darkened. ”Then we must finish dealing with the Ma Clan quickly. Before Lie Fan turns his gaze north.”

While Lie Fan’s military victories were undeniable, the court of public opinion was another battlefield. Many among the common folk, particularly those who had only known Liu Bei through tales and hearsay, there was outrage.

He had been spoken of as a man of benevolence, a leader of virtue, a descendant of the Han who bore the burden of the empire’s decay with grace. Many wept when they heard the news. Some even cursed Lie Fan’s name in public squares as they were outraged at his execution.

But Lie Fan had prepared for this.

The Oriole Agent, utilizing their network of spies, informants, and agents loyal to Lie Fan alone, immediately acted when they hear the news.

They fanned out across the region, entering tea houses, brothels, temples, and markets, carrying with them stories, some true, some tailored, of Liu Bei’s greed, his hypocrisy, the dark side of his ambition.

They spoke of villages left to starve while he taxed them for his armies, of orphans pressed into labor, of lavish banquets held while refugees lined the streets. Evidences of embezzled grain stores, executed dissenters, and exploitation of peasants while Liu Bei lived in luxury.

Slowly, the tide turned. Anger gave way to unease. Then unease became doubt. And doubt, when watered with enough whispers and planted among enough ears, blossomed into gratitude.

Lie Fan had not only removed a tyrant, the people now said, he had saved them. Where Liu Bei had promised, Lie Fan had delivered. Grain was distributed. The temples reopened. Roads were repaired, and orphans were taken in by state sponsored homes.

Even in Guiyang, once a bastion of resistance, the market square was filled with chatter about the new order and how much better it already seemed.

With Jing Province now firmly under his control, Lie Fan turned his gaze outward. To the south, Shi Xie ruled the tropical and trade rich lands of Jiaozhi. To the west, Liu Zhang held the mountainous bastion of Yi Province.

Both were distant and wary, neither friend nor foe, but now they were neighbors and he had managed to infiltrate Liu Zhang’s court thanks to Fa Zheng, Zhang Sing, and Meng Da. Lie Fan, sitting in Jing Province, was the bridge between north and south, east and west.

And in his capital, Xiapi, was changing. The construction of his new palace, an ambitious structure of bronze inlaid gates, jade pillars, and reinforced walls, was well underway. Thousands of laborers worked day and night.

Craftsmen from the north, artisans from south, and blacksmiths from his domain converged on the city. With the knowledge brought back from Lie Fan’s covert study of the future, new tools and techniques sped the process tenfold.

Timber was cut with saws of hardened steel. Stones were shaped with near perfect precision. Water channels were dug to feed fountains and irrigate gardens.

The construction of his palace would be finished soon, and with his land expanded, the time was drawing near for Lie Fan to declare himself Emperor. When the time came, envoys would be sent to every corner of the land.

Messengers bearing golden scrolls, their seals stamped with the mark of the Imperial Seal, would carry the proclamation, the Mandate of Heaven had passed. The Han had long since decayed, a rotten tree hollowed from within. The Son of Heaven had turned tyrant, or puppet, and the land had suffered. At these turbulent period, a new Son of Heaven would rise, and that would be Lie Fan.

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Name: Lie Fan

Title: Overlord Of The Central Plains

Age: 33 (200 AD)

Level: 16

Next Level: 462,000

Renown: 1325

Cultivation: Yin Yang Separation (level 9)

SP: 1,121,700

ATTRIBUTE POINTS

STR: 951 (+20)

VIT: 613 (+20)

AGI: 598 (+10)

INT: 617

CHR: 96

WIS: 519

WILL: 407

ATR Points: 0