Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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Cao Cao turned his head slowly to look at him. There was no anger in his expression, only the weight of years, of battlefields won and lost, of lessons carved deep by blood and fire. ”You think so, Ang?” he said, his tone more weary than mocking. A sigh escaped him before he continued.

”First, as for the western campaign... yes, the Gansu Corridor and the Qinghai Plateau are falling into our hands. But listen well, neither can ever serve as the true foundation of our dynasty. The people there are few, the land barren of the wealth and grain the heartland provides. To treat them as a fallback is to admit that I have abandoned my ambition to unite the land, content to cling to the outskirts while another claims the center. That would be the same as handing the heart of China to Lie Fan.”

Cao Ang’s brows drew together. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, the argument dying unspoken in his mind.

Cao Cao didn’t wait for him to find new words.

”As for your second point, that Lie Fan has made no move against us since crowning himself Emperor...” His eyes narrowed slightly, the wind lifting his hair from his forehead. ”Do not mistake stillness for weakness. My spies inside the Hengyuan Dynasty, before they were cut off, reported that his realm is in fact far more stable than ours. Much more.”

The brothers both stiffened when they heard this.

”He does not act in the mainland because he is acting elsewhere,” Cao Cao went on. ”Just as we are in Gansu and Qinghai, he is expanding beyond the borders. While we are locked here against Liu Zhang and the Han’s army at Jianmen and soon Zitong, he is securing resources and manpower beyond the horizon. And every day we linger, he grows stronger.”

Cao Pi’s jaw tightened. ”Then Yi Province...”

”Is our only path forward,” Cao Cao finished. ”Take it, and we cut Lie Fan’s potential encirclement. Lose it, and we are the ones surrounded.”

The silence that followed was heavier than before. Cao Pi’s earlier boldness had dulled into thoughtfulness, while Cao Ang’s usual composure was shadowed with a new awareness never seen before.

For the first time, they saw not just their father’s ambition, but the pressure crushing down upon it, and upon them.

Cao Cao watched their faces and saw the shift he had hoped for.

”Good,” he said at last, the word carrying quiet satisfaction. ”Now you see it. The weight on our dynasty is not light. And I tell you this, as long as you understand this truth, even if one day you compete for the throne, you will do it through merit. Not through the daggers of backroom politics that would tear this family apart.”

He looked from one son to the other, the wind carrying the faint clamor of the rebuilding below.

”If brothers must fight,” he said, ”let it be on the battlefield, not in the palace.”

Neither son spoke at first, then, slowly, Cao Ang bowed his head. ”I understand, Imperial Father.”

Cao Pi mirrored the gesture. ”We will not fail you, Imperial Father.”

He patted each of them on the shoulder, before then turning to look below the wall. ”Prepare your men. We march at dawn.”

For now, at least, the three of them stood together, looking out over the pass that had already cost them so much and that tomorrow would see them marching away toward the next fight.

Meanwhile, to the south, in the heart of Zitong, Fa Zheng stood atop the city walls alongside Zhang Song and Meng Da, their robes fluttering in the evening breeze. Below them, the city buzzed like a stirred hornet’s nest, soldiers drilling, blacksmiths hammering out fresh weapons, laborers reinforcing the gates.

At this time, Yan Yan approached them, his armor still smeared with dirt from the day’s training. ”The scouts report Cao Cao’s forces are mobilizing. They’ll probably march by dawn tomorrow.”

Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, and Meng Da didn’t look surprised, as Fa Zheng turned to look in the direction of Jianmen Pass. ”Then we have until around 4 to 5 days before they arrive.”

Zhang Ren suddenly joined them, as his expression was grim. ”The Nanman traps have long been set along the eastern road. Pitfalls, poisoned spikes, even a few... snake and insect courtesy of Meng Huo and his tribe like in Jianmen Pass.”

Zhang Song’s lips twitched at that. ”Let’s hope Cao Cao and his soldiers enjoy them as much as they did in Jianmen Pass.”

Meng Da let out a low, knowing laugh at Zhang Song’s remark, the kind that rolled in the back of the throat like a man who had already pictured the scene.

”They’ll enjoy the gift we’ve left them,” he said with a glint in his eyes. ”Just like they enjoyed it at Jianmen Pass, though this time they’ll be lucky if all they lose is the pass.”

Fa Zheng’s lips curved into a faint, satisfied smile. ”It bought us more time than I’d dared hope. Jianmen Pass burned for days, and they had to rebuild it into something barely passable before moving on. That delay was worth more than gold.”

His gaze swept over the walls of Zitong, his tone sharpening. ”Now they’re coming again, and this time we don’t have the luxury of a fallback. Here, nothing can be overlooked. We can’t afford to lose, and we can’t afford to retreat. Not here, not now. If Zitong falls, it will throw our Emperor’s plans into chaos.”

The words settled over the group like the weight of the walls themselves. Yan Yan, Zhang Ren, Zhang Song, and Meng Da each nodded, not with the idle agreement of men indulging strategy talk, but with the grim acceptance of commanders who knew exactly what was at stake.

Yan Yan’s voice was low but certain. ”If it comes to it, we’ll call for His Majesty’s aid. But until then, this province stays in our hands. Yi Province is the gift we promised him and I’ll see my sword broken before I hand it to Cao Cao.”

That was all that needed to be said.

Yan Yan and Zhang Ren soon left to oversee the final military preparations, moving down into the organized chaos of the barracks, where officers barked orders and men tightened armor straps.

Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, and Meng Da stayed behind, bent over their maps and lists, running their eyes over every detail of the defense plan they had constructed over the last tense weeks. Walls reinforced. Supply caches secured. Archer rotations are planned down to the hour.

A siege battle is not won on the day the enemy arrives, Fa Zheng reminded them, it’s won in the weeks before. And there could be no mistakes.

Several days passed like water slipping through clenched fingers.

By the time the dawn of the fifth day came, the air above Zitong was taut with anticipation.

Yan Yan and Zhang Ren stood shoulder to shoulder atop the northern wall. Neither spoke. Both were staring toward the hazy northern horizon, their armor reflecting the pale morning light. Behind them, lines of soldiers stood ready along the battlements, their spears braced, their bows strung.

Then, far away, at first no more than a dark smudge on the horizon, they saw it.

A sea of men.

The banners of Wei unfurled against the sky, dark blue and embroidered with the great white characters that needed no reading. Even before they could make out faces, the heavy, synchronized drumbeat of their march reached the ears of the defenders.

Yan Yan’s lips thinned. Zhang Ren didn’t take his eyes from the horizon as he gave the order. ”Ring the bell. Wei has arrived. Everyone to stations.”

The great iron bell boomed through the city, its deep voice rolling through every street, every alley. Soldiers poured into their positions. Archers took their posts. The gates were barred, the outer courtyards cleared.

Out on the approach to Zitong, the Wei army marched in grim silence. Their morale was not the surging force it had been when they’d departed Jianmen Pass.

The reason was obvious in the hunched shoulders and bandaged limbs among their ranks.

On the road from Jianmen to Zitong, the Nanman had welcomed them, just not in the way any soldier wanted. Meng Huo and his tribesmen had transformed the jungle itself into a weapon.

The narrow mountain road had forced the Wei troops into single file columns at times, threading through green walls of dense foliage. It was there that the traps waited.

The moment the first rank pushed deeper into the shade, the jungle seemed to come alive. Pitfalls hidden under leaves gave way beneath boots, sending men screaming onto poisoned bamboo spikes. Rattan nets dropped from above, hurling stones and sharp bones onto helmets.

And worst of all were the living weapons, the snakes and insects, poured from woven baskets in ambushes, scattering into armor joints and biting at exposed skin.

The poisoned wounds festered fast. Men who survived the bite often didn’t survive the fever.

Even Cao Cao, hardened by years of war, had rubbed his temples when the reports came in. He had expected traps, of course, but not this sheer brutality. ”Where in Heaven’s name do they keep finding so many snakes?” he had muttered more than once. ”We burned them at Jianmen Pass.”

Guo Jia and Xi Zhicai shared the same deep frown. They knew the only true countermeasure, burning the jungle, was impossible here.

The canopy was too thick, the air too humid, a fire would choke their own men before it cleared the way. Instead, they issued new orders, every soldier was to carry torches, more campfires were to be lit at night, and the smoke was to be kept constant as a repellent.

It helped, somewhat. But then came the night when the predators grew larger.

Without warning, a pair of tigers crashed into the Wei camp just before midnight. The great cats tore through tents like paper, their roars shaking men from their bedrolls. Panic erupted in the darkness as the beasts mauled anyone within reach.

Cao Cao’s top generals, Xu Chu, Zhang He, Cao Hong, Cao Ren, Li Dian, and Yue Jin, had to rally together to bring the creatures down. Even with six of Wei’s finest fighting shoulder to shoulder, the battle was vicious.

By the time the tigers lay dead, more than a dozen soldiers were gone, and several more would not survive their wounds. The army pressed on after that, but every step toward Zitong was slower than the one before. And now, as the city walls finally loomed ahead, the men were already weary from a campaign that had yet to see its first true clash.

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Name: Lie Fan

Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty

Age: 35 (202 AD)

Level: 16

Next Level: 462,000

Renown: 2325

Cultivation: Yin Yang Separation (level 9)

SP: 1,121,700

ATTRIBUTE POINTS

STR: 966 (+20)

VIT: 623 (+20)

AGI: 623 (+10)

INT: 667

CHR: 98

WIS: 549

WILL: 432

ATR Points: 0