Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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”See! They keep their word!” they cried in their own tongue. ”Our families live! Throw down your swords, brothers, and live with them!” And slowly, grudgingly, many of the defenders began to waver. Some cast their weapons aside and surrendered outright, while others, still bound by loyalty or fear of disgrace, fought on until they were cut down.

The battle for the streets was brutal, but it was not chaos. It was calculated.

As the entrance to the city was secured and the main thoroughfares brought under control, Sun Ce, Ma Chao, and Zhou Yu made their way through the broken gates. They moved on horseback, their elite guards clearing a path through the settling dust and fading sounds of combat.

Zhou Yu’s sharp eyes scanned the city, not as a warrior assessing a conquest, but as a strategist evaluating a prize. The architecture was unlike anything in the Central Plains, intricately carved stone temples, sophisticated irrigation channels, public squares adorned with exotic statuary. The cultural and administrative value of this intact city was immense, far exceeding the transient wealth of plundered gold.

”We were right,” Zhou Yu murmured, more to himself than to the others. ”A sacked city is a dead city. This... this is a functioning capital. Its value is not in what we can carry away, but in what we can keep. The libraries, the administrators, the artisans... this is the true treasure of Funan.”

Sun Ce grinned, exhilarated by the victory but sobered by the sight. ”It is a fine city. It will be a worthy addition to Your Majesty domains.”

Ma Chao simply grunted, his eyes constantly moving, scanning rooftops and alleyways for any last hint of threat. ”As long as it bends its knee. Its people, its temples, its wealth, they will serve. That is enough.”

The decision sat easily with them. Hengyuan and the Sun Clan had wealth enough from tribute and trade. But culture, culture was a treasure that lived forever.

Meanwhile, inside the palace of Funan, panic was at its height.

King Kaundinya III oversaw a desperate, almost pitiful scene. His royal family, queen, sons, daughters, were frantically aiding the servants in packing what they could. Jewels, scrolls, ceremonial weapons, even sacred relics were gathered in bundles, though many fell clattering to the marble floor in haste.

The king had never seen such chaos within his halls. His children, once sheltered in silk and ceremony, now trembling as they tied ropes around boxes. His queen, usually poised, now pale and frantic, urging the servants faster.

He himself could barely stand steady. Sweat drenched his robes, his hands quivered as he barked orders. His pride as monarch had shattered into dust.

At that moment, the doors burst open. A general staggered in, armor battered, blood staining his tunic. His face was wild with fear.

”Your Majesty! They are in the city! The outer districts have fallen! They are fighting in the streets leading to the palace! You must leave NOW! There is no time! If you delay, the escape route will be cut off!”

The king’s heart slammed against his ribs. He clutched at the armrest of his throne, his vision blurring for a moment. Then, snapping out of it, he roared, half fear and half command.

”Leave it! Leave it all! We go now! Gather the children, gather the queen, move, before it is too late!”

The servants froze, then dropped whatever treasures they held. The royal guard assembled quickly, forming a protective ring around the family. With hurried steps, the king, his queen, and their sons and daughters were ushered toward the back gate.

They pushed through dim corridors, past carved pillars and shadowed courtyards. Every echo of battle outside grew louder, closer. The children whimpered. The queen pressed them forward with shaking hands.

At last, the back gate loomed ahead. Relief surged through the king, an escape! They would flee south, into the jungles, find refuge where no foreign army could reach.

But as the gates creaked open, the sight that greeted them turned relief into horror.

There, waiting like wolves at a snare, was a contingent of cavalry. Their horses stamped impatiently, their riders armored in steel, weapons gleaming under torchlight. At their head sat a stern faced warrior with fire in his eyes, Ma Dai, cousin of Ma Chao.

The royal guards froze, their hands flying to their weapons, but they were vastly outnumbered and surrounded. The king and his family stumbled to a halt, their hope extinguished in an instant. The queen let out a stifled sob. A young prince began to cry.

The king’s voice broke into a trembling whisper. ”No... no...”

Ma Dai raised his sword, then lowered it in command. His voice rang out, steady and clear. ”Surround them!”

The cavalry shifted, enclosing the royal family in a tightening ring.

But there was more. Beside Ma Dai sat a scholar, robes plain, scroll in hand. At his side was a leather bound dictionary, compiled meticulously, Funan to Han, Han to Funan. He was a man chosen for this moment, for he spoke enough of the Funanese tongue to bridge worlds.

He raised his voice, speaking in halting but clear words.

”King of Funan! You are surrounded. You cannot flee. No harm will come to your queen, your sons, your daughters, if you surrender now.”

The words hung heavy in the humid night, the only light flickering from torches, casting the trapped royals in desperate shadows.

The words of the scholar echoed against the palace walls, sinking into the silence like a blade into flesh.

”Do not think of fleeing...”

King Kaundinya III’s throat tightened as though invisible fingers had clenched around it. His eyes, wide and bloodshot from sleepless nights, darted toward the captain of his royal guard who stood close, his jaw stiff, his eyes burning with desperate determination. The captain leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper, low enough for only the king to hear.

”My king,” the captain said, his words trembling with both fear and loyalty, ”we can still make a break for it. My men and I can hold them back long enough for you and the royal family to escape. We will cover your retreat, and with luck, you may reach the river to the south before they cut you down.”

King Kaundinya III’s lips quivered as he whispered back, ”And what chance do we have? Tell me true. What is the chance my family survives such a flight?”

The captain’s eyes shifted briefly toward the cavalry that surrounded them, dozens of mounted warriors, armor glinting in the torchlight, their horses stamping and snorting impatiently. He swallowed hard, then answered with reluctant honesty.

”No more than sixty percent, my king,” the captain admitted. ”They are too many, and their cavalry outnumbers ours twofold, my king. Some of our men are on foot. Against their speed, it will be difficult. But sixty percent is still a chance, better than waiting here like lambs for the slaughter.”

King Kaundinya III felt his knees weaken. Sixty percent. In his heart, he knew the number was far less.

Before he could respond, the scholar at Ma Dai’s side suddenly raised his voice again, his halting but clear words thundering into the night.

”King Kaundinya!” the scholar called out, his accented Funan ringing with cold clarity. ”Do not entertain foolish thoughts of flight! The cavalry you see is but the tip of the spear. More companies wait in the shadows of every alley, encircling this place entirely. Any attempt to escape will be met with utter annihilation!”

He let the threat hang for a moment, then delivered the blow designed to shatter all resistance. ”And know this! If you force our hand through such foolishness, the terms of surrender will be revoked! The male members of your royal house will be executed for their defiance. The females... your queen, your daughters... they will not be spared the sword. Instead, they will be given a fate far more enduring. They will be sold into the brothels of the north, to become courtesans, ’ladies of pleasure’ in your tongue.”

”They will live as slaves to the basest desires of common men, their bodies and spirits broken for coin. And you, King Kaundinya, will be kept alive in a gilded cage to watch it all, powerless to buy their freedom, forced to witness the eternal degradation of your own bloodline until the end of your days!”

The words landed like a physical blow. A collective, horrified gasp erupted from the royal family. The queen clutched her daughters, her face draining of all color. The threat was not just of death, it was of a legacy so defiled, so utterly erased through humiliation, that it was beyond any king’s worst nightmare.

One of the princes, barely into manhood, clenched his fists and stepped forward, rage trembling in his voice. ”You dare speak such foulness to us?!” he shouted, but the royal guards held him back.

The king himself staggered as though struck. His breath came ragged, his chest heaving. He could not imagine such a fate, forced to watch his daughters debased, his queen broken, his sons slaughtered. His soul recoiled from the vision, and the very thought extinguished any flicker of resolve he had clung to about attempting an escape.

His eyes darted back to his captain, his voice cracking with despair.

”I cannot gamble with a sixty percent chance. Perhaps even less. Not if the price of failure is that.”

The captain’s face contorted with anguish, sweat dripping down his temples. He shook his head fiercely, his voice rising in urgency.

”My king, reconsider! These are foreign enemies! Do you truly believe their honeyed words? What if this is but a lie to bend your will? What if, the moment you surrender, they betray you? What if they slaughter us all the same, laughing at your cowardice?”

Kaundinya’s shoulders sagged, his eyes hollow, his soul torn in two. He whispered, almost to himself, ”It is better to die swiftly... all of us... than to risk a fate where my daughters live as prostitutes, my queen broken in chains. Death is kinder.”

His words fell like stones into the silence, heavy and irreversible.

The captain froze, his eyes widening. Then his face twisted with shock, and swiftly, it hardened into fury. He could not accept what he had just heard. His king, his sovereign, was willing to surrender them all, not even to fight for honor. The images of his brothers in arms flashed through his mind, the men who had died on the walls of Vyadhapura, cut down defending their homeland. They had fought with valor, believing their king would stand resolute.

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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