Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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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.

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.

Guo Jia at this time rode up beside Cao Cao, his usual calm demeanor frayed. ”Your Majesty, the men... their morale is low.”

Cao Cao didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were fixed on Zitong’s battlements, where he could just make out the figures of the Han commanders watching their approach.

”Let them rest tonight,” he said at last. ”We attack at dawn.”

In Zitong, Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, and Meng Da at this time emerged onto the battlements, their expressions unreadable as they surveyed the approaching force.

”They don’t look as eager as I expected,” Meng Da remarked dryly.

Zhang Song chuckled. ”Would you be, after what our Nanman friends left for them?”

Fa Zheng let out a chuckle at that and shook his head, indicating that no one would be happy after going through what was left behind by the Nanman Tribe and Meng Huo.

”They’re exhausted,” Zhang Ren who observed beside them said. ”We could launch a night raid.”

Fa Zheng shook his head. ”Unnecessary. Let them waste their strength on our walls tomorrow. Every hour they delay is another hour for the southern campaign to conclude.”

Meng Da smirked. ”And another hour for them to wonder what fresh hell we’ve prepared.”

Yan Yan, ever practical, grunted. ”Their siege engines will still come. Their generals will still fight. We shouldn’t underestimate them.”

Fa Zheng nodded. ”Which is why the outer trenches are filled with oil, why the archers have fire arrows ready, and why Meng Huo’s men are waiting in the tunnels beneath the city.”

A slow, cold smile spread across his face.

”Let Cao Cao break his teeth on Zitong. By the time he realizes the trap, it will be too late.”

The next day, the first light of morning painted the sky in hues of blood and gold as the Wei army surged forward after a night of rest.

Siege towers rolled toward the walls, protected by a hail of arrows from Wei archers. Catapults launched flaming projectiles over the battlements, setting rooftops ablaze. At the gates, a massive battering ram, its iron head shaped like a snarling dragon, advanced under a canopy of shields.

The deep toll of warning bells echoed through Zitong, sending soldiers scrambling to the walls. Archers nocked arrows, spearmen tightened their grips, and engineers stood ready at the ballistae. Below, the city gates were ready as they were reinforced with heavy beams.

On the walls, Zhang Ren raised his sword. ”Now!”

Fire arrows streaked down, igniting the oil filled trenches. Flames roared to life, engulfing the first wave of Wei soldiers. Screams filled the air as men became living torches, their armor melting into their flesh.

Guo Jia stood in the command tent, the firelight from the trenches flickering against the canvas walls. The roar of the flames and the screams of dying men reached him like the echoes of some nightmare he had already foreseen. His eyes narrowed.

”Bring forward the sand, the earth, and the wet hides, now!”

Messengers sprinted into the chaos, shouting his orders. From the supply wagons came soldiers dragging heavy sacks, barrels sloshing with water, bundles of soaked animal hides.

The vanguard had paid in blood for the trap, but Guo Jia had no time to mourn them. The moment they’d seen the oil-filled trenches, he had suspected the enemy’s intent, and had laid a contingency plan days before. Now, it was time to put it into play.

Wei soldiers, choking in the heat and smoke, formed lines. Buckets of water hissed as they struck the flames. Wet hides were thrown over the burning ground to smother the oxygen. Sand was poured in great, clattering streams, and earth shoveled from hastily dug pits was flung onto the inferno.

The defenders rained arrows down into the struggling soldiers. Men fell screaming, some clutching at shafts buried deep in their backs, others toppling silently into the still-burning pits.

But slowly, painfully slowly, the fire dimmed. Where it had once leapt like a wall of dragons, it now smoldered and steamed.

From his high perch on the walls, Zhang Ren’s eyes narrowed. ”They came prepared,” he muttered.

Fa Zheng said nothing. His smile was faint, but his mind was already adjusting to the next move.

When the last of the flames guttered out, a horn blew from the Wei lines. The battering ram, its dragon head blackened by the heat, rolled forward again, shielded beneath a canopy bristling with arrows.

Siege ladders thumped against the walls, hooks biting into stone. The towers lurched closer, their iron shod wheels grinding over the scorched ground.

The first clash came like the meeting of two storms.

Atop the battlements, Han archers leaned out, loosing at near point blank range into the heads and shoulders of men climbing the ladders. The defenders heaved stones, poured boiling water, and hurled down great jars of pitch that shattered among the attackers.

Below, the Wei soldiers climbed relentlessly, some falling with cries, others clambering over the bodies of their comrades. Generals on both sides bellowed orders, their voices half drowned by the screams and clash of steel.

Cao Ren led a contingent to the east gate, shield high as arrows clattered against it, his men surging behind him. Xiahou Yuan’s archers laid down covering fire with deadly precision, sending shafts into the eyes of defenders peering over the wall.

On the Han side, Zhang Ren himself cut down three men in quick succession at the top of a ladder, his sword flashing in the morning light. Yan Yan fought like a boulder in the river’s path, holding his section of the wall with unyielding strength.

The smell of blood and smoke thickened until it seemed the entire battlefield was drowning in it. Every heartbeat felt like an eternity.

Historians would later say the Siege of Zitong began that day, not with the clang of the first ram stroke against the gates, but with the sheer stubborn fury of two armies who refused to yield.

It would become one of the longest and most bitter sieges in the Three Dynasties era, a struggle that would alter the course of history itself.

Far to the south, the jungle air was heavy with damp heat and the hum of unseen insects. Here, the Sun Clan and Ma Chao’s army pushed deeper into what they believed to be Funan’s domain.

The odd thing was, there was no one.

No scouts shadowing them, no patrols riding the border, not even a whisper of movement in the dense undergrowth. It was as if Funan had simply abandoned the frontier.

Zhou Yu rode near the front of Sun Ce’s column, his expression unreadable. He kept one hand on the small lacquered case at his side, inside which were his maps and dispatches. A fresh one had arrived that morning from Yu Hao, commander of the Sun Clan and Imperial Navy.

The news was... not what he’d hoped.

The plan had been to strike Funan’s navy by surprise, but when the Imperial Navy’s ships arrived alongside the Sun Clan fleet, they found the enemy already drawn up for battle in the southern seas. Lines of warships, their prows carved like serpents and garudas, glittered in the sunlight. Funan had been ready.

Zhou Yu could picture it, the thunder of drums, the crash of hull against hull, the sea turned to froth under the pounding oars. Archers on both sides were sending black clouds of arrows across the waves, boarding hooks clashing, men screaming as they toppled into the water.

The element of surprise was gone.

When Zhou Yu relayed this to Sun Ce, the younger lord frowned but nodded. ”If they knew our navy was coming, they might know about us as well.”

Zhou Yu agreed and urged caution. ”We slow our pace. If the enemy is waiting for us ahead, better to meet them on our terms.”

Orders rippled down the line. The pace slackened. Ma Chao, riding at the head of his cavalry, gave similar instructions. The two armies moved like a great beast walking on all fours, each matching the other’s stride, never breaking formation.

The jungle thickened around them, the canopy blotting out much of the sun. Shafts of golden light pierced through here and there, illuminating coils of hanging vines and broad-leafed plants glistening with dew.

Then—

A horn.

It was deep and alien, unlike the sharp brass calls of the Three Dynasties armies. It reverberated through the trees like the bellow of some monstrous animal.

From the shadows between the trees, shapes began to emerge. First a few, then dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of men with dark skin and painted faces, armored in lacquered leather and bronze, bearing curved blades, spears tipped with barbed heads, and shields painted in vivid patterns.

The Funan army had found them.

”Form up!” Sun Ce’s voice cut through the growing din. His troops snapped into formation, shields locking, spears bristling. Ma Chao’s cavalry wheeled to the flanks, horses snorting, riders lowering their lances.

The jungle exploded into violence.

Funan warriors hurled javelins that clattered off shields or buried themselves in the unlucky. The Sun Clan archers answered with a storm of arrows, their bowstrings singing. Ma Chao’s riders charged, lances splintering against shields as they smashed into the enemy’s flanks.

Sun Quan fought near his brother, his sword flashing in tight arcs, cutting down any foe who dared come close. Zhou Yu directed the archers with calm precision, sending volleys where the Funan pressed hardest.

Lu Meng and Zhou Tai waded into the melee like storm gods, their weapons rising and falling in deadly rhythm. Cheng Pu’s voice boomed above the chaos as he rallied the men holding the left wing.

On the other side, Ma Chao was a whirlwind, his spearwork so fierce that three Funan warriors fell before they could even react.

Ma Dai fought beside him, cutting down an enemy officer with a slash that split helm and skull alike. Ma Tie and Ma Xiu held the rear ranks, keeping the Funan from encircling them.

The battle became a living thing, fluid, chaotic, roaring in the ears and pounding in the chest. Steel rang on steel, wood splintered, and men shouted and screamed. The thick, humid air smelled of sweat, blood, and crushed vegetation. And still, neither side broke.

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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