Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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He nodded, impressed. The questions were immaculate. They demanded not rote memorization, but critical thinking, creativity, and a profound understanding of how to apply knowledge to real world problems. A man who could answer these was a man who could govern. A man who could not, no matter how blue his blood, had no place in his administration.

The proposed structure, a three tiered examination, was also perfect. The multiple choice first round would efficiently weed out the utterly unprepared. The essay round would separate the competent from the exceptional. The final round, with its complex hypotheticals and literary demands, would identify the true elites, the future pillars of his empire.

But Lie Fan’s sharpest innovation was the oversight. The examiners would be drawn from all ministries, Personnel, War, Finance, Law, and the others. No single ministry, especially Zhuge Liang’s powerful Ministry of Personnel, would hold a monopoly on selecting the next generation of officials.

This created a system of checks and balances within the examination itself. Furthermore, examiners would serve only for one triennial cycle before being rotated out, preventing the formation of cliques and the selling of favors.

”Splendid,” Lie Fan murmured to himself, a deep sense of satisfaction settling in his chest. This was the engine that would drive his meritocracy.

Lie Fan set down the slips and leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply. ”It will be fair. Difficult, but fair. Those who study, who labor, who sharpen their minds as soldiers sharpen blades, those men will rise. And those who rely only on their fathers’ names will fall away.”

He then leaned forward and turned to the second, equally weighty scroll, A Proposal for the Categorization and Ranking of Officials by Merit and Achievement, by Chen Qun.

Lie Fan’s smile turned wry. His frustration with the decadent nobility had indeed forced Chen Qun’s brilliant mind to produce its masterwork early, the Nine Rank System.

But what lay before him was not the system of the original timeline, which, for all its merits, was vulnerable to corruption by influential evaluators. This was the Nine Rank System 2.0, refined and hardened against the very corruption it was meant to combat.

The core principle was there: officials would be accorded a rank from one to nine, which would dictate their salary, responsibilities, and status.

Promotion and demotion would be tied to rigorous, annual performance reviews based on clear, measurable metrics, tax revenues collected, legal cases resolved fairly, public works projects completed on time and under budget, military victories achieved.

But the improvements were revolutionary.

First, the evaluators. The controllers who graded the officials were not just powerful ministers appointing their own friends. They were themselves high ranking officials chosen by a complex lottery system from a pool of the most respected, veteran administrators. Their own performance was tied to the accuracy and fairness of their evaluations. A corrupt evaluator would find his own rank plummeting.

Second, the Emperor’s Role. Lie Fan’s power to influence the system was explicitly codified and limited. He could suggest a candidate for evaluation or question a ranking, but he could not simply appoint a favorite to a high rank. His intervention would trigger an automatic, transparent review by a council of evaluators from three different ministries. The system checked the Emperor’s power as much as it empowered him.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. ”Chen Qun, you sly fox. You have shackled even me.”

Yet he was not angry. No, he was pleased. He knew all too well the dangers of unrestrained imperial whim. A dynasty that allowed its sovereign to trample process would rot from within. By limiting even himself, he ensured the system could survive him, survive his heirs, survive even weak emperors.

Next, Ministries as Guardians. The various ministries became the system’s protectors. The Ministry of Law ensured evaluations were just. The Ministry of Finance audited the economic metrics. The Ministry of Personnel implemented the postings but could not manipulate the rankings. They all watched each other, creating a stable, self regulating structure.

It was a bureaucratic masterpiece. It incentivized merit, punished incompetence and corruption, and was incredibly difficult to game. It made the entire government machinery accountable to a set of rules, not to the whims of a man, even if that man was the emperor.

Lie Fan leaned back in his chair, the scrolls resting on his desk. The weight of the moment was not lost on him. He was holding the future of his dynasty in his hands. These were not mere policies, they were the foundational pillars for an empire that could last a thousand years, an empire built not on birthright, but on talent and achievement.

The bloody struggles outside were the politics of the past. This, this was the future. He would let his enemies exhaust themselves fighting over crumbling castles while he built a new world from the ground up.

He would give these drafts his final approval. They would be polished, perfected, and then announced to the realm. It would cause an uproar among the old nobility, of course. But their failed coup had left them weak and discredited. They would squawk, but they could not stop it.

He dipped his brush into ink, scribbling notes in the margins of the draft. ’Excellent. Formalize further. Ensure controllers rotate as well. Punish collusion harshly.’

Outside the palace window, the sounds of Xiapi drifted in, the cries of merchants in the market square, the laughter of children in the courtyards, the tramp of soldiers drilling along the walls. Life bustled, but beneath it all, a new order was being written, line by line, law by law.

Jia Xu entered quietly, bowing. ”Your Majesty, forgive my intrusion. Have you reviewed the proposals?”

Lie Fan gestured to the desk, covered in scrolls. ”I have. And I am satisfied. More than satisfied. This exam will sift the gold from the sand. This ranking system will keep the river clear of weeds. When we enact it, Wenhe, no man will doubt that Hengyuan is a dynasty of merit, not corruption.”

Jia Xu’s lips curved faintly, the closest he ever came to a smile. ”History will remember it, Your Majesty. Few rulers ever dare to limit their own hand. Fewer still succeed.”

Lie Fan’s gaze hardened, though his tone was steady. ”I do not rule to gratify myself. I rule to secure the realm. If I must bind even my own will to achieve it, then so be it.”

He rose, pacing slowly across the chamber. ”And think, Wenhe, when men from every corner of the land hear of this exam, will they not come? Scholars from mountains, farmers’ sons from villages, even the wandering teacher or hermit, if they know talent can raise them to office, they will flock to our domain. This will not only fill our ranks with the worthy. It will bind hearts to us. The people will see that under Hengyuan, even the lowliest has a path.”

Jia Xu smiled, his ever calculating eyes gleaming faintly as he cupped his hands in salute. ”Your Majesty’s wisdom exceeds even the most far sighted of sages. This reform will anchor the dynasty for generations.”

He straightened, reached forward with deliberate care, and lifted the scrolls from Lie Fan’s desk. Lie Fan gestured casually to them.

”I have written some notes,” Lie Fan said, his tone both light and purposeful. ”Some where revision is needed, others where praise is due. Your drafts are more than I could have imagined, but perfection lies in refinement. Do not be afraid to cut or to add where it strengthens the whole.”

Jia Xu bowed again. ”Your Majesty’s guidance is the whetstone. Tomorrow, or at the latest the day after, we will submit both proposals formally through petition during Imperial Court. By presenting them as the highest petition, not only will it give this reform the gravitas it deserves, but all officials present will hear it directly and understand that change is already in motion.”

Lie Fan inclined his head, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. He liked the plan. Not only did it elevate the reform into something inevitable, it also cleverly spread responsibility. In the annals of the court, the proposals would appear as the work of his Three Excellencies and the collective ministry. He would be seen not as the sole instigator, but as the wise sovereign who listened to counsel and agreed.

That subtle shift mattered. History often remembered emperors by the shadow they cast, but politics was not written only in the bright ink of memory. It was a living game of resentment, of allies and scapegoats.

By letting Jia Xu, Chen Qun, Zhuge Liang, and others appear as the true engines of reform, he drew the ire of the old nobility away from himself. They would still blame him, of course. They always did. But their hatred would not be whole; it would be scattered, divided, directed at his ministers as well.

And in the end, the history books would write it differently. They would remember him as the sovereign who reformed the empire, the father of meritocracy, the Emperor who bound himself for the sake of justice. His ministers’ names would remain, yes, but as footnotes beneath his own. In politics, as always, he was the winner in the chess match. Always had been. Always would be.

”Do as you propose, Wenhe,” Lie Fan said at last. ”It is good.”

Jia Xu bowed once more, deeply, and then took his leave, the scrolls bundled carefully in his hands. His robes whispered against the stone as he departed, leaving Lie Fan alone with his thoughts.

For a moment, the Emperor remained seated. His hand traced absently across the polished wood of the desk, feeling the grooves left by countless brushes before.

Then he stood, stretching his shoulders, and with a decisive breath, he turned to leave. Two of his Yellow Ghost bodyguards fell into step behind him as he left the royal office. Their golden masks gleamed faintly in the afternoon light streaming through the palace halls.

Lie Fan did not head for his chambers, nor for the council chamber. His destination was elsewhere. For days, Chen Gui had petitioned for an audience.

Normally, Chen Gui’s requests were honored quickly, but in the past week Lie Fan had been too occupied, first with military reports, then with the finalization of the exam and ranking drafts. Now, however, he had time. Rather than summon Chen Gui to him, he would go to the man himself.

He made for the royal stables. The stable hands looked up in surprise when he entered. It was rare for the Emperor himself to come without announcement, rarer still for him to mount directly from here. They scrambled to bow, their hands still holding brushes and tack, their eyes wide.

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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