Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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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.

And now this?

”Better to die?!” the captain roared, his voice shaking with rage. ”What of the thousands who died for you, for this throne? Were their lives spilled only for you to kneel like a coward?!”

The queen gasped, clutching her children tighter. The royal guards, torn between loyalty to their captain and their king, looked at one another in confusion.

The captain’s fury boiled over. His hand flew to his blade, steel whispering as it left its scabbard.

”If you will not die like a king, then I will end you myself!”

The sword arced upward, gleaming wickedly in the torchlight. The royal family screamed. The king staggered backward, eyes wide with terror, searching desperately for something to shield himself, but his throne was far behind, and here in the courtyard, there was nothing. No shield, no barrier, no hope.

The blade swung down.

And then—

Thunk!

An arrow whistled through the night, striking the captain in the back of the head.

The shaft tore through skull and brain, the arrowhead nearly bursting out from the front of his face. His eyes went wide, frozen in shock, his lips parting as though to speak, but only blood spilled out.

The spray spattered across King Kaundinya III’s face, hot and metallic. The king stumbled backward, horrified, wiping frantically at the blood as the captain’s body swayed, then collapsed forward with a dull thud upon the stone.

And a she step back, King Kaundinya III stared down at the corpse of his captain. He slowly raised a trembling hand to his face, his fingers coming away wet and red with the blood of the man who had just tried to kill him.

For a heartbeat, silence reigned.

Then, slowly, all eyes turned.

Ma Dai sat atop his horse, a bow still raised in his steady hands, the string humming faintly from the release. His expression was grim but calm, as though ending a life had been no more than swatting a fly.

At his side, the scholar straightened, seizing the moment. His voice rang out, sharp and triumphant.

”Behold! It was not your own men who saved you, King Kaundinya III! It was General Ma Dai! He saved you from the betrayal of your own captain, who sought your death here and now! What greater proof do you need that we are more honorable than those who claim loyalty to you? Your own men plot against you, while we, your enemies, are the ones who protect your life!”

The words struck like thunder.

The royal guards stared in stunned disbelief, some dropping their weapons outright, others shuffling uneasily as doubt wormed into their hearts. The queen clutched her children tighter, her eyes darting between the corpse of the captain and the foreign general who had loosed the fatal arrow.

King Kaundinya III himself stood frozen, blood still dripping from his cheek, his mind reeling. The horror of nearly dying by his captain’s blade, followed by being saved, saved by the very enemy he had feared moments ago, sent him spiraling into a haze of confusion. His world had turned upside down.

The scholar pressed on, his tone steady, commanding.

”You see now, O King! The ones you trusted would gladly spill your blood when you waver. But we, our general, spared you. Does this not prove our word is stronger than theirs? Surrender, and no harm will come to your queen, your sons, your daughters. Resist, and you have already seen what awaits you, not at our hands, but from within your own ranks.”

The king trembled, his lips quivering, torn between pride and survival, between the ruins of his honor and the lives of his family.

The body of his captain lay sprawled before him, blood pooling darkly upon the stones. The man who had once sworn loyalty now revealed as traitor or at least made to appear so.

And in that moment, King Kaundinya III felt the last of his strength crumble.

King Kaundinya III looked at Ma Dai, then at the scholar. The blood on his face felt cold. He slowly, stiffly, knelt in the dirt before the hooves of Ma Dai’s horse. His family, weeping with relief and terror, followed suit.

”We surrender,” the king said, his voice a broken whisper that carried the weight of a kingdom’s end. ”We place ourselves... at your mercy.”

The scholar translated. Ma Dai gave a single, curt nod.

The conquest of Vyadhapura was complete. Not just through military might, but through a masterful play of psychological terror and calculated mercy. The king was alive, his family intact, but the sovereignty of Funan was extinguished. The Hengyuan Dynasty had acquired not just a country, but a puppet ruler and a lesson in the terrifying efficiency of its power.

The night air of Vyadhapura was thick with tension, heavy with the iron stench of blood. Yet, amid that oppressive silence, the sound of command cut sharp and firm.

”So with that,” Ma Dai declared, lowering his bow at last, ”bind the royal guards. Do not spill their blood unless they resist. As for King Kaundinya III and his family—capture them, but do not bind them. Keep them under watch until Marquis Sun Ce or General Ma Chao give further orders.”

His voice was calm, almost detached, but the weight of authority in his tone left no room for doubt.

The Sun Clan soldiers and the Hengyuan imperial troops nodded in unison, the clatter of armor and movement resounding like an ominous drumbeat. They moved swiftly, surrounding the defeated royal guard.

The men of Funan looked at one another, exchanging weary glances. The will to resist had already fled them when their captain fell with an arrow through his skull. They had sworn their lives to their king, and yet, in the end, the king himself had bent the knee. What use was there in resistance? Slowly, one by one, they lowered their weapons and extended their hands, accepting the ropes that wound around their wrists and forearms.

There was no struggle, no desperate last stand. Only the quiet resignation of men who knew the world they had fought for was gone.

Meanwhile, King Kaundinya III stood pale and shaken, his robe still spattered with the blood of the man who had almost slain him. His queen clutched their daughters, her eyes darting wildly between the soldiers and her husband. His sons stood stiffly, trying to look brave but unable to hide the tremble in their hands.

The scholar stepped forward, bowing respectfully before the king, then translated Ma Dai’s words. His voice carried in the still night:

”You and your family will not be bound, but you must remain under our watch. You will ride in the carriages we have brought, separated until further notice. Until Marquis Sun Ce or General Ma Chao decide otherwise, you must remain there.”

King Kaundinya III listened, his face sinking further into lines of exhaustion. Then he nodded slowly, heavily, as though each motion cost him more than swinging a sword.

”Do as they command,” he told his family in their own tongue, his voice hoarse. ”We will obey.”

The queen turned toward him, her eyes flashing with desperate protest. ”Husband! Must we separate? Let us at least stay together—”

But Kaundinya III raised a trembling hand, silencing her. His eyes, though bloodshot, were firm with grim determination.

”No. We will divide. The men in one carriage, the women in another. If they mean to kill us... if betrayal lies ahead... better that you do not see it. Better that you do not watch us die.”

His words cut deep, heavier than steel. His queen’s lips quivered, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. She wanted to argue, to hold fast to him, but in the end, she obeyed, pressing their daughters close and leading them toward the carriage set aside for them.

The king’s sons followed him, their small frames stiff with fear, glancing back at their mother with every step. At last, the family was divided, boarding the carriages under the watchful eyes of Hengyuan soldiers.

The creak of wooden doors shutting echoed in the courtyard. Guards posted themselves immediately, spears leveled, as though daring anyone within to try escape.

When all was secure, when every Funan guard was bound and every royal sealed within the carriages, Ma Dai gave the order to move.

”Form ranks! We return to Vyadhapura.”

The soldiers answered with a thunderous ”Yes, General!” The army began to march, boots striking the earth in unison as torches flickered against the night sky. Ma Dai rode at the front, the carriages in the center of the column, shielded on all sides. The corpse of the captain was left where it fell, a warning to any who still dreamed of resistance.

The procession entered Vyadhapura once more, the conquered city now eerily quiet. Smoke drifted from the ruins of barricades, and broken weapons lay scattered in the streets. The people watched from shuttered windows, their faces pale with dread, whispering prayers to gods who no longer answered.

Inside the grand palace, the victors had already gathered.

The main hall of the Funan throne room was lit with tall braziers, the flames casting long shadows upon the gilded pillars. Sun Ce, Ma Chao, and Zhou Yu stood at the center, surrounded by a handful of their elite soldiers.

Though the throne of Funan loomed before them, draped in silks of gold and crimson, none dared touch it, let alone sit upon it. For that seat, and the dominion it represented, belonged not to them but to their Emperor, Lie Fan of the Hengyuan Dynasty.

Sun Ce, arms folded across his broad chest, glanced around the hall with his usual energy restrained. He turned toward Zhou Yu, his sworn brother and strategist, his brow furrowed.

”Tell me, Gongjin,” Sun Ce asked, ”what is the true benefit of making Funan a puppet? Other than easier control, what use is there in keeping this king alive when we could simply replace him with one of our own?”

Zhou Yu’s eyes, always sharp and calm, flickered with the firelight as he considered his response.

”Brother,” he said smoothly, his voice measured and thoughtful, ”there are many reasons. The first is indeed control, but not merely in name. If we kill their king and place one of our own, rebellion will be certain. But if their king himself instructs them to obey, then even though they know it is false authority, they will yield, if only out of habit and fear. That illusion of sovereignty will bind them more tightly than chains.”

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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