Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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At the mention of the Orioles, that shadowed web of the Hengyuan Dynasty’s intelligence network, Li Wei’s brow eased slightly. He leaned back in his chair, studying Gongsun Gong with those sharp, unblinking eyes that had a way of piercing through a man’s words to the marrow beneath.

”If you had said that from the beginning,” Li Wei replied at last, a faint smile tugging at his lips, ”then I would not have doubted you even for a heartbeat.” He inclined his head, acknowledging the weight of Gongsun Gong’s assurance. ”Very well. I am satisfied.”

His gaze shifted then, smoothly, almost suddenly, to King Jinji. The king of Gaya, who had thus far remained a silent observer, stiffened ever so slightly under that look. Li Wei’s tone was courteous but carried a subtle edge, as though beneath the question lay an unspoken demand.

”Tell me, Your Majesty,” Li Wei said, ”what knowledge does Gaya hold of Yamatai? Speak freely. The Hengyuan Dynasty does not ask idle questions.”

King Jinji was jolted from the fog of his own troubled thoughts. He straightened in his seat, broad shoulders rolling back as though to remind himself that he was still a king, not a vassal to be interrogated.

Clearing his throat, he let the silence linger for a heartbeat before speaking, his words measured but laced with the weight of reluctant candor.

”Yamatai...” he began slowly, as if tasting the name on his tongue. ”They are no strangers to us, yet they are not close either. A foreign ally, if such a word can even be used. Their ways are secretive. Their emissaries speak little beyond what is necessary, and their envoys rarely linger longer than required.”

His eyes drifted for a moment, recalling old memories, half-whispered reports from merchants and sailors who had crossed the seas. ”And yet, our trade with them is strong. Their goods flow into our ports, iron, lacquer, pearls, things we cannot craft ourselves. In return, they hunger for our grain, our tools, our timber, and many other resources. Commerce binds us, though little else.”

Li Wei remained utterly still, listening with the patience of a man accustomed to extracting truths by silence alone. Only his eyes gleamed faintly in the torchlight.

King Jinji’s voice lowered, carrying a note of unease now. ”Some say Yamatai’s strength does not lie only in their markets. Their navy, it is said, is formidable, ships swift as birds, with hulls strong enough to brave the blackest storms. I have heard merchants whisper that no other realm in the eastern seas can match their mastery of the waves. And above all... they are ruled by one they call the Shaman Queen.”

The room stilled at those words. Even Gongsun Gong lifted his head, his brows knitting faintly. King Jinji drew in a slow breath, his tone taking on the hushed cadence of one recounting rumor, or perhaps legend.

”She bears the title ’Himiko.’ To her people, she is no mere sovereign. They say she is a vessel of the spirits, able to command the unseen. That she can summon storms or calm them with a word. That she can bend the winds to her fleet’s sails or call down mists thick enough to blind entire navies. The sea itself, they claim, heeds her voice.”

A shadow passed across the king’s face. ”Perhaps these are only tales, the exaggerations of frightened traders who gaze too long into foreign mysteries. Yet in every telling, one truth remains, Yamatai is not to be taken lightly. To face them on the sea would be to risk far more than the fangs of ordinary men.”

When he fell silent, the hall seemed heavier, as though his words had draped it with an unseen veil. The firelight flickered, painting long shadows across the beams. Outside, the surf’s distant murmur felt closer, more insistent, as if the sea itself had been summoned by the telling of Himiko’s name.

Li Wei’s expression did not change. His face was carved from stillness, but within his eyes, thought moved swiftly, deep and precise.

For a long moment, he said nothing, weighing each fragment of King Jinji’s account, filing rumor apart from fact, truth from superstition. And yet, he did not dismiss the tales outright. A wise man never scoffed at what he had not yet seen.

At last, he spoke. ”A queen who commands both men and storms. Interesting. Whether truth or myth, it matters little. What matters is how her people believe. Faith can wield as much power as steel. A fleet that sails believing the sea itself is with them will fight with the strength of ten thousand.”

He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting upon the table, voice calm but edged with resolve. ”We will not underestimate them. Nor will we allow our designs to falter because of whispers. But this Himiko... this Shaman Queen... I would know more.”

Li Wei’s gaze swept from King Jinji to Gongsun Gong, and back again, before settling once more on the king. ”Your Majesty, you and your kingdom will prove useful in this. Gaya stands at the crossroads of sea and land. Your knowledge of Yamatai, your ties through trade, these are threads we may weave into a tapestry of advantage. And in return...” His voice softened, though the promise carried the weight of iron, ”the Hengyuan Dynasty does not forget those who aid its hand.”

King Jinji bowed his head slightly, masking the conflict that rippled within him. He had spoken truthfully, yes, but every word had also been a step deeper into a snare he could feel tightening around him. Gaya and his survival depended on a careful balance, but in the eyes of Li Wei, balance was nothing more than hesitation.

Still, the king forced his features into calm neutrality, answering only with a quiet, ”I will provide what aid I can.”

The meeting drifted on into smaller matters, shipments, translators, routes across the sea, but the shadow of Himiko’s name lingered in every unspoken thought.

And as the lamps burned low and the tide outside shifted with the moon, Li Wei sat back, his mind already moving ahead, already weaving the Shaman Queen of Yamatai into the great, unseen designs of the Hengyuan Dynasty.

Far to the south, the reconstructed wooden fort stood silent under the moonlight, its newly reinforced walls casting long shadows across the cleared earth. Inside, Shi Xin walked the battlements, his footsteps quiet against the timber.

Below, the campfires of his army dotted the darkness like fallen stars. Soldiers rested, sharpened blades, or spoke in hushed tones. The siege had been a victory, but the true test was yet to come.

Shi Zhi approached, his armor dull in the dim light. ”Brother. The scouts have returned.”

Shi Xin didn’t turn. ”And?”

”The Champa army is two days’ march away. Thirty thousand strong.”

A pause. Then Shi Xin’s lips curled. ”Good.”

He turned at last, his eyes glinting in the firelight. ”Have the men rest tonight. Tomorrow, we prepare the welcome.”

The Shi Clan’s soldiers moved with quiet purpose, their preparations meticulous. Pitfalls were dug along the expected approach, their bottoms lined with poisoned spikes.

Archers took positions in the trees, their arrows tipped with a slow acting venom. And at the center of it all, the fort’s gates stood invitingly open, a lure disguised as weakness.

Shi Hui, for once, held his tongue. He watched his brothers work, absorbing their strategies like a scholar memorizing a text.

By midday, the first dust clouds appeared on the horizon.

The Champa army had arrived.

The Champa general, a grizzled veteran with a scarred face, surveyed the fort through narrowed eyes. The open gates puzzled him. Was it a trap? Or had their enemies grown arrogant and complacent?

His lieutenant urged caution. ”Let us surround them first, General. Starve them out.”

The general snorted. ”And let them call for reinforcements? No. We crush them now.”

He raised his sword and the charge began.

Thousands of Champa warriors surged forward, their war cries shaking the earth. Arrows rained down from the fort’s walls, but they came on, undeterred.

Then the ground gave way.

Pitfalls yawned open, swallowing entire ranks. Screams rose as poisoned spikes found flesh. Archers hidden in the trees picked off stragglers with lethal precision.

And still, the Champa pushed forward.

The first wave reached the gates, just as Shi Xin’s signal flags dropped.

From the jungle on either side, hidden forces erupted, Shi Clan cavalry, their lances gleaming, their charge unstoppable.

The Champa general whirled, his eyes widening. ”Ambush!”

But it was too late. The trap had closed.

The cavalry immediately decimated the soldiers in their path as they thundered into the fray, horses clad in light armor but seeming like iron beasts to the terrified Champa soldiers.

The clash was brutal, swords cut through flesh, lances skewered men before they could even raise their shields. The Champa warriors swung desperately, hacking at the horses’ legs or stabbing upward at riders, but the Shi Clan cavalry had momentum and precision on their side. Each charge tore through the ranks like a blade through silk.

The two cavalry contingents, emerging from both flanks as if conjured by the jungle itself, surged forward with ruthless efficiency. Within moments, they had driven deep into the Champa host, cleaving the vanguard from the main army.

Panic spread as soldiers realized the road to the gate was no longer a road at all but a corridor of death. The trapped vanguard had already pushed into the fort’s entrance, and now they found themselves caught in a web far tighter than any spider’s.

Inside the fort, the situation was no less dire for them. Shi Zhi, standing tall amidst his men, gave a sharp signal with his flag. At once, the Shi Clan infantry, who had lain in patient silence behind barricades and palisades, erupted forward in unison.

Blades glinted in the light, shields locked together, and their voices rose in a unified roar. Arrows rained from the walls above, loosed by the waiting archers who had marked every Champa soldier the moment they stepped inside. The vanguard had entered triumphantly, but now their triumph became a tomb.

When the Champa soldiers tried to retreat, desperation clawing at their throats, they found their path blocked. From the ramparts above, massive logs bound with iron and jagged stones were rolled down at the choke point of the gate.

The thunderous crash crushed men beneath, bones snapping, bodies piled atop one another, sealing the gateway with a grotesque barricade of flesh and rubble. Every attempt to scramble free ended in chaos,men trampling each other, slipping on the blood slicked ground, only to be cut down by spears or arrows.

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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