Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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They passed through the main gates of the residence, where the night air was cool and carried the distant, sleeping breath of the city. Awaiting him was a sight of serene beauty. The imperial procession stood ready, torches flickering and casting dancing light upon the polished lacquer of the carriages and the armor of the guards.

Before the lead carriage stood the Empress Ying Yue and the four consorts, Diao Chan, Cai Wenji, Lu Lingqi, and Zhen Ji, their ethereal beauty undimmed by the late hour. They looked like figures from a painted scroll, patient and composed.

They bowed as one when the Emperor approached, their veils catching the wind like sails of moonlight. Ying Yue then offered a soft smile as Lie Fan approached. ”The little one is very handsome, husband. Wannian is tired but glowing with happiness and motherhood shone out of her.”

Lie Fan’s smile softened further. ”Good. I am glad you saw them.” He then turned back to Sima Yi, who had followed him out. ”Stay, Zhongda.” He said quietly, the steel of command softened by intimacy. ”Enjoy what is left of the night with your family. You need not see me off. We will speak soon of... other matters.”

Sima Yi bowed deeply, understanding the dismissal and the unspoken promise within it. ”As you command, Your Majesty. Travel safely, Your Majesties and Your Highnesses.”

Lie Fan nodded once, then pivoted with the unhurried grace of absolute authority. The Empress and consorts drifted like petals into their jeweled carriages, the lacquered panels closing with soft, final clicks.

Lie Fan, eschewing such comfort, mounted his stallion in one fluid motion, the black charger stamping and tossing its mane as though sensing the will astride it.

A gesture, a ripple through the ranks, and the imperial procession stirred to life. Standards lifted, torches flared, and the Son of Heaven rode forth, the rhythmic clang of hooves rolling like distant thunder into the velvet depths of night.

Behind him, the lanterns of the Sima Clan estate dwindled, swallowed by the sleeping city. And there, in the hush that followed, Sima Yi turned and walked back through gates heavy with gold and silence, the weight of the evening pressing like a seal upon his thoughts.

Two days later and a world away from the capital’s opulent halls, far to the northeast, upon the rugged beauty of Jeju-do, the appointed ground for a meeting unlike any other lay spread beneath a sky of cold blue steel.

The open plain rolled gently to the horizon, unbroken by grove or stone, as though the earth itself sought to deny either side a shadow in which treachery might take root.

Here, upon this stage of wind and grass, the emissaries of Goguryeo and Yamatai would parley.

Li Wei had arrived first, a calculated choice. It allowed him to control the initial impression. Under his direction, his guards, efficient and disciplined, had erected a spacious, open sided pavilion of dark stained wood and white canvas.

It was a statement of temporary authority and civilized intent. Within it, a low table was set with a porcelain tea set, scrolls, and, prominently displayed, several ornately carved chests containing the gifts intended for the Yamatai emissary, silks, rare inks, jade carvings, and texts of philosophy and poetry, offerings meant to appeal to both vanity and intellect.

When at last the pavilion rose complete, a blossom of silk upon the bare earth, Li Wei stood just outside the pavilion, his hands clasped behind his back. He was a figure of calm authority, his gaze fixed on the eastern approach.

The plain around them was indeed clear, as promised, no place for an ambush, a guarantee of mutual, if wary, safety.

”Director,” one of his guards murmured, nodding toward the horizon.

Li Wei followed his gaze. A contingent was approaching, moving with a steady, purposeful rhythm. Even at a distance, they were distinctly foreign. The style of their armor, the way they carried their spears, the cut of their banners, all spoke of a culture shaped by the sea and its isolation.

”Everyone be in your positions,” Li Wei said, his voice quiet but carrying. His guards did not tense, but their awareness sharpened, their stances shifting almost imperceptibly into something more ready. ”No blades drawn, but hands ready. Appear calm, yet let them see we are not lambs in a field.”

The guards moved like shadow and steel, assuming positions that were neither threatening nor lax.

Meanwhile, he gestured to Han Myeong, who stepped forward to stand just behind his right shoulder, the translator’s face a mask of professional neutrality.

”The game begins,” Li Wei said, so softly only Han Myeong could hear. ”Every word, every breath, translate it true. No more. No less.”

Han Myeong bowed sharply, his face as taut as a bowstring. He understood. In moments such as these, a single mistranslation could kindle a war.

On the approach, Lord Kaito rode at the head of his own guard detail. The men of Yamatai were few in number but formidable in bearing, their swords curved like the smile of death, their garments a tapestry of foreign elegance that whispered of distant islands veiled in mist.

Lord Kaito’s eyes, sharp and missing little, scanned the Goguryeo setup, the pavilion, the disciplined placement of the guards, and the figure of Li Wei standing as still as a mountain peak.

He grunted, a low sound in his throat. ”They are prompt. And they have made themselves comfortable.”

He glanced sideways at Jin, his Silla translator, who rode beside him. ”What do your mainlander instincts tell you, Jin? Is this a display of courtesy? Or a show of strength disguised as one? Do you think they have archers hidden in the grass? Swordsmen buried in shallow pits?”

Jin kept his eyes forward, his expression carefully neutral. He had learned long ago that survival in the Yamatai court depended on balancing truth with tact.

”Lord Kaito, I do not believe it is a trap. Not here, not now. The location was mutually agreed upon because it offers no advantage to either side. For them to break that trust at the very outset would be to admit they fear this meeting. The man who arrives first and builds a house for his guest does not do so because he plans to murder him at the table. He does it to control the terms of the meeting. It is a different kind of warfare. One of perception.”

Lord Kaito’s lips tightened slightly. He trusted Jin’s understanding of the mainlander mind, even if it frustrated him. ”Perception. A flimsy weapon. But you are likely right. This Li Wei... the reports say he is a fox, not a boar. He will use words before swords. Very well. Let us see what this fox has to say.”

The two groups closed the final distance, stopping a respectful dozen paces apart. The air grew still, heavy with unspoken assessment. The only sound was the wind sighing across the plain and the faint creak of leather armor.

Li Wei took the first step, a deliberate gesture of initiative. Han Myeong moved with him.

”I am Li Wei, Director of the Lie Clan Supervision Bureau of Goguryeo,” he announced, his voice clear and steady. ”The sea carries strange tidings, yet it has borne you here in safety. For this, Heaven must smile upon our discourse.”

Han Myeong translated smoothly into Silla., carrying the sense into the island tongue.

Jin, in turn, translated for Lord Kaito. ”I am Kaito, Emissary of the Divine Shaman Queen Himiko, Sovereign of Yamatai.” His voice was deeper, rougher, carrying the accent of his homeland.

”The Queen of Yamatai honors Goguryeo with her friendship, and with her vigilance.” A pause, as his gaze flicked like a blade across the Goguryeo ranks. ”Let us hope the plain is not as empty as your promises.”

Li Wei’s lips curved, not in mirth, but in something keener, a smile honed for diplomacy’s duel. ”Then let us step within,” he said, gesturing to the pavilion, ”where words may weigh more than swords.”

For a long moment, the two men simply looked at one another, each taking the measure of the other across the gulf of sea, culture, and suspicion.

The negotiations had not yet begun, but the first, most crucial test, the meeting of gazes, had already commenced. The silence between them was the first move in a high stakes game where every word, every gesture, would ripple across the eastern seas.

After that long, taut silence, the kind that tightens the air like a drawn bowstring, Lord Kaito’s hard eyes finally softened, if only by a fraction. With a single, clipped nod, he rose from his stance. The motion was deliberate, heavy with the weight of choice.

He stepped forward first, striding toward the pavilion like a man marching into the heart of a rival’s stronghold. His armor chimed softly at every measured step, the layered plates catching the cold daylight in thin slivers of light.

Behind him, Jin followed in silence, his head slightly bowed, his hands tucked neatly into his sleeves as if trying to fold away any sign of tension.

And then came the Yamatai guards, six of them, no more, no less. Elite soldiers by every visible measure. Their armor gleamed darker than the rest of Kaito’s retinue, lacquered plates layered with intricate bindings, a stark contrast to the more practical gear of the common guards who lingered beyond the pavilion’s shadow.

These were men who had fought more battles than they had seen summers, their eyes like flints, their stances perfect. They were the kind of soldiers who needed no words to kill or to die.

Li Wei entered after them, calm and unflinching, his robe swaying like ink across parchment, Han Myeong at his heel.

The ’Goguryeo’ soldiers who followed were, to any observer, merely his honor guard. But their eyes held a different kind of watchfulness, a predator’s calm assessment.

These were no ordinary infantry, they were Oriole Agents, their very souls honed for the silent, brutal calculus of close quarters protection. They took up positions just inside the pavilion’s entrance, their stance relaxed yet impossibly balanced, ready to become a wall of flesh and steel at a moment’s notice.

If blood spilled here, it would do so in a storm of motion too swift for the untrained eye to follow. The table between Li Wei and Lord Kaito was simple in form but rich in meaning, a narrow stage where the fate of kingdoms might hinge upon a single breath. Upon it, the tea set gleamed faintly, porcelain as white as a winter moon. Two cups waited, poised like silent witnesses.

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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