Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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A ripple moved through the Imperial court. Officials exchanged glances, brows furrowed, curiosity ignited. A petition prepared not only by Zhuge Liang but in concert with the highest pillars of Hengyuan Dynasty government? That was no trivial matter and it’s of the utmost importance with the level of people involved.

Lie Fan, though fully aware of what was about to be presented, donned an expression of intrigue. He leaned slightly forward on his throne, his voice rich with gravity. ”The Minister of Personnel has our permission to speak. Present your petition, Zhuge Liang. I would hear what matter you, the other ministers, and the Three Excellencies deem so urgent that it comes before me without prior word. We are most curious to hear what matter has required such a collective effort.”

Zhuge Liang smiled faintly, a glimmer of quiet confidence in his eyes. He gestured, and an imperial maid, graceful as a swan, stepped forward to accept the scroll from his hands. With reverence, she carried it to the Dragon Throne and presented it to the Emperor, bowing deeply.

Lie Fan accepted the scroll, unrolling it with deliberate slowness. His eyes moved across the characters, though he already knew their meaning. Still, he let his brows lift in feigned surprise, his lips tightening in intrigue, as though the words struck him fresh.

As Lie Fan began his act read in the scroll, Zhuge Liang began his address, his voice resonating through the silent hall.

”Your Majesty, in my capacity overseeing the personnel of our great dynasty, a persistent and troubling trend has become impossible to ignore. The quality of individuals recommended for office, be it through local commendation or noble patronage, has been in steady decline until now. We see more men who know the right families than the right principles, more who seek the prestige of office than its heavy responsibilities. This corrosion weakens the very spine of our administration.”

He paused, letting the damning assessment hang in the air. Many officials shifted uncomfortably, others nodded in grim agreement.

”Therefore, after long discussion with my peers and the Three Excellencies themselves, we have reached consensus that reform is required. Not a mere adjustment, but a restructuring of the very foundation of how we select and promote the servants of the state.”

He then outlined the twin pillars of the proposal, his words methodical and precise.

”First, the Imperial Examination. We propose a standardized, empire wide test, open to all men of ability, regardless of birth, once every three years. It will consist of three tiers, testing not just rote memorization of classics, but practical knowledge of mathematics, law, governance, strategy, and composition. It will be administered triennially. The examiners will be drawn by lot from a pool of ministers and senior officials across all ministries, ensuring fairness and preventing any single faction from controlling the gateway to power.”

A wave of murmurs, louder this time, swept through the hall. The concept was radical, a direct threat to the hereditary privilege that many in the room enjoyed.

”Second,” Zhuge Liang continued, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the growing stir, ”a new System of Ranks. All officials, both in the central court and in the provinces, will be assigned a rank from one to nine, each rank possessing three grades. Their salary, their authority, and their status will be tied directly to this rank. Promotion and demotion will be determined by annual performance evaluations based on clear, measurable achievements, tax revenues collected, cases adjudicated fairly, projects completed. Crucially, new officials entering the bureaucracy will receive their initial rank based solely on their performance in the Imperial Examination.”

The murmuring erupted into a full blown cacophony of voices. The hall was filled with a mixture of shock, outrage, and, from a younger, less established minority, a sense of thrilling possibility.

”Outrageous!” cried one senior minister, his beard trembling with fury. ”To tear down the system by which our fathers and their fathers governed? To throw the entire structure of service into the hands of mere tests?”

”Preposterous!” an older nobleman shouted, his face flushed with anger. ”You would discard centuries of tradition! You would let some farmer’s son who memorizes a book sit in judgment over us?

”Too drastic!” muttered another, shaking his head. ”If reformed in moderation, perhaps, but this... this overturns everything!”

”It is too drastic!”another minister cried out. ”The chaos it would cause! The entire administration would be thrown into disarray!”

Yet there were others whose eyes gleamed with approval. Younger ministers, rising talents, men weary of corruption and nepotism. ”It makes sense,” one said under his breath. ”This would strengthen our government, improve efficiency, give us men of true ability.”

”It would purify the court!”a mid ranking official added, his voice cutting through the din. ”Talent would be rewarded! Corruption would be harder to hide!”

The debate raged, a microcosm of the struggle that would inevitably play out across the empire. The old guard, clinging to the security of birthright, versus the modernizers, who saw a path to a stronger, more efficient state.

Through it all, Lie Fan sat silently on his throne, the scroll held in his hands. He watched the chaos he had orchestrated, his face an impassive mask. He saw the fear in the eyes of the decadent, the hope in the eyes of the ambitious. This was the necessary turmoil that preceded true reform.

He finally raised his hand. The gesture was slight, but its effect was instantaneous. The hall fell silent once more, every eye fixed on the throne.

He looked from the scroll in his hands to the face of his Minister of Personnel, and then his gaze swept over the entire assembled court.

”This petition,” Lie Fan said, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight that crushed all dissent, ”is the most significant we have ever considered. It proposes to reshape the destiny of our dynasty.” He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in.

”We will not decide this today. The Three Excellencies and the ministers involved will form a committee. They will review every detail, anticipate every consequence, and return to us with a finalized proposal. We will hear arguments from all sides during the next court. But know this.”

His eyes hardened, and his voice took on a steely edge that brooked no argument.

”The status quo is untenable. The decay that the Minister of Personnel describes is real. It weakens us from within. Whether it is this proposal or another, change will come. The Hengyuan Dynasty will be built on merit, or it will not endure. This audience is concluded today.”

With that, he stood. The officials, stunned into silence by their Emperor’s unwavering resolve, dropped into deep bows as he turned and left the hall through a side entrance followed by the Yellow Ghots bodyguards, the scroll containing the future of his empire still clutched in his hand.

Lie Fan’s footsteps echoed softly against the polished floor of the inner palace hall as he departed the throne room. The thunderous debate that had shaken the Imperial Court minutes earlier still lingered faintly in his mind, but outwardly his expression betrayed nothing.

He carried himself with the same composed dignity that had earned him the loyalty of his officials and the awe of the common people. The scroll, still in his hand, felt heavier now, not because of its parchment, but because of what it represented. Change. Upheaval. The birth of something new.

The Yellow Ghosts moved silently around him, their presence as steady as shadows. When he entered his private royal office, they took their stations just outside the doors, their hands on the hilts of their curved sabers, their eyes scanning the hall. Inside, the air was quieter, more intimate.

A low brazier filled the room with a faint, smoky warmth, and tall windows filtered pale light across his desk, where maps and bundles of petitions were neatly arranged.

Lie Fan settled into the great chair behind his desk and leaned back, allowing the silence to stretch. He was not waiting idly, his mind was at work, carefully measuring the next steps.

He had declared the creation of a committee before the court, and every official had bowed to that command. But the truth, known only to himself and a trusted few, was that the ”committee” was a veil. A shield. The true architects of reform would sit in this very room with him, as they had so many times before.

He had no intention of letting Zhuge Liang’s proposal rot on some shelf of endless debate. No, this reform was his will, his design, though it bore another man’s name. To rush it openly, however, would invite dissent, and worse, suspicion.

Far better to let the ministers quarrel, to let them think this revolution came from within their own ranks, while he stood above it all, impartial, untainted. When the storm had passed, when resistance had been rooted out and silenced, the truth of its origin would be allowed to trickle through the ranks. By then, it would be too late for anyone to resist.

The hinges creaked as the door opened. The first to arrive were his Three Excellencies, Jia Xu, Chen Qun, and Xun You. They entered as one, their robes whispering across the floor, their faces sharp with the same mix of weariness and wisdom that had carried the dynasty through countless trials.

Jia Xu, as ever, broke the silence first. His voice was low and laced with sarcasm. ”Your Majesty, I couldn’t help but savor the spectacle we just witnessed. Those old families, those pompous relics, were the first to howl like dogs struck with a stick. They clung to their privileges so tightly I thought they might faint. If their veins bulged any further, I’d have feared for their health.” He gave a small, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. ”Truly, if outrage were gold, those officials could fund a new army.”

Lie Fan, hearing the cutting tone of his Chancellor and old friend, allowed himself a chuckle. ”Ah, Wenhe,” he said, using Jia Xu’s courtesy name. ”You never disappoint. But calm yourself. Their protests are meaningless. You will have ample chances soon enough to cut down these officials, strip them of their ranks, even confiscate their ill gotten estates. Today they bark, but tomorrow, they will be in chains, or forgotten.”

Jia Xu smirked faintly and bowed his head. ”Then I spoke too freely, Your Majesty. Forgive me for sounding unbecoming before the Dragon Throne.”

Lie Fan waved his hand lightly, dismissing the apology with a smile. ”Unbecoming? No. Honest. And honesty is needed here, behind closed doors.”

Before he could continue, the sound of footsteps announced the arrival of more men. The ministers entered in an ordered procession, Zhuge Liang first, his feather fan in hand, then Mi Zhu, Liu Ye, Chen Gong, Lu Su, and Sima Yi, They bowed deeply, their voices rising in a respectful greeting.

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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