Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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He let the words hang for a moment, his gaze fixed on the king. Then he spoke with deliberate clarity. ”One of your sons must come to our capital, Xiapi. He will live there as a royal guest for the rest of his life. Every two years, he may return to Funan for one month, before returning to us.” The scholar translated carefully.

The effect was instantaneous and devastating. The king’s head snapped up as if he’d been struck. All the color drained from his face, leaving his skin a sickly, ashen grey. The faint hope that Zhou Yu’s earlier act had kindled was snuffed out, replaced by the cold, brutal reality of this demand.

His eyes, wide with shock and horror, locked onto Zhou Yu’s face, searching for some sign that this was a cruel joke. But all he found was that gentle, unshakeable, terrifying smile.

In that moment, the entire illusion shattered. The understanding family man was gone, replaced by the ruthless strategist. The king realized, with a nauseating lurch of his heart, that he had fallen into a trap. The comfort offered had been a prelude to a deeper, more personal violation.

They weren’t just taking his kingdom, they were taking his potential heir, one of his child, to hold as a permanent hostage. His family’s safety was conditional, forever contingent on his perfect behavior. One misstep, one hint of rebellion, and the ”honored royal guest” would become a executed prisoner.

”N... no...” the king stammered, his voice breaking, his hands trembling violently on the table. The polished wood felt like ice beneath his fingertips. ”P-please... Honorable Master Zhou... you said... you understand... a family man...” He was grasping at the vanished phantom of the compassionate man he thought had been sitting across from him minutes before.

”To take a son... to take a child from his father forever... this is not the action of one who understands! I... I would send advisors, ministers, gold... anything! But not my son. Please, I beg of you, by the love you bear your own children, reconsider this term!”

His plea was desperate, pathetic, filled with the raw anguish of a father. He was no longer a king negotiating a treaty, he was a man begging for his child’s freedom. The scholar translated in a rush, his voice faltering with the emotion behind the plea.

Zhou Yu watched him calmly, his gentle smile never wavering. Inside, however, his mind was sharp as a blade. The king had walked directly into the snare, believing the mask of shared fatherhood. But Zhou Yu was not here to comfort, he was here to bind Funan so tightly it would never rise again.

Still, he could not press too harshly. He needed compliance, not open defiance.

”Your Majesty,” Zhou Yu said softly, his tone like silk hiding steel, ”it is precisely because I understand the love of a father that I ask this of you. A son in Xiapi is not a hostagez it is a bond. A bridge between our peoples. With your son among us, we will honor him, educate him, treat him as one of our own. He will live, he will thrive, and through him, your line will be tied forever to the Hengyuan Dynasty. This is not cruelty. This is security, for you, for your family, for Funan itself.”

The scholar translated with careful precision.

The king’s face twisted, torn between despair and the faint glimmer of hope those words offered. He searched Zhou Yu’s calm expression, desperate to believe, desperate for some assurance that his son would not be shackled in a foreign land.

But Zhou Yu’s smile was unyielding, gentle yet firm.

The silence stretched long in the chamber.r

A single, hot tear escaped his eye, tracing a path through the dust on his cheek before falling onto the exotic fur between them, disappearing without a sound. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, all the light had gone out of them. In a voice that was little more than a shattered whisper, he gave his answer.

”... If it must be so,” he whispered. ”Then I will agree. But... please. Promise me my son will be safe.”

The scholar repeated the words.

Zhou Yu inclined his head slowly, gracefully. ”You have my word. He will be safe. More than that, he will be honored. He will carry Funan’s name with him in the heart of the Hengyuan court. Through him, your legacy will endure.”

The king shuddered, tears brimming in his eyes. His voice was a whisper. ”Then... it is done.”

Zhou Yu sat back, serene, his inner triumph hidden behind the mask of compassion. ’The net is closed, he thought. Funan belongs to us now.’

King Kaundinya III sat motionless, his shoulders slumped as though a great weight had finally broken him. The tears on his cheeks had dried into faint streaks, leaving his face haggard, his eyes clouded with grief. Zhou Yu, graceful as ever, folded his hands upon the table and leaned forward slightly, his voice calm, yet commanding.

”Your Majesty,” he said with deliberate patience, ”tomorrow you will sign the peace treaty. You shall bring with you your seal or whatever symbol your kingdom uses to affirm your rule and place it upon the document alongside ours. With that, the bond will be made whole. Funan will endure, under the protection of the Hengyuan Dynasty.”

The scholar translated carefully, and when his words reached the ears of the Funanese king, Kaundinya III simply lowered his head and nodded, weary beyond measure. His lips trembled as though he wished to speak, but all he could manage was a hoarse whisper:

”I... I understand. May I... return to my family now? Let me tell them myself. I would rather they hear it from me, than from my ministers tomorrow or worse, be startled into despair at the sight of the treaty’s sealing.”

The plea was raw, spoken with the fragile dignity of a man who still clung to one last duty, the duty to his family.

Zhou Yu, watching him, allowed his expression to soften, an illusion of compassion placed once more upon his face. He inclined his head with elegance. ”Of course. Our matters for today are concluded. A father should be with his family.”

The words, though gentle, were edged with calculation. Zhou Yu understood perfectly well what it meant to let the king break the news. Grief delivered from the lips of a husband and father would bind the queen and princes into obedience far more effectively than any decree shouted by foreign soldiers. The king would become the messenger of his own defeat.

The scholar translated, and the king’s eyes brimmed with fresh tears. He rose unsteadily, knees stiff from hours spent in a posture of supplication. His body bent forward in a deep bow, more a broken collapse than a dignified gesture. ”Thank you,” he whispered, voice cracking.

Without another word, King Kaundinya III turned and left the chamber. His footsteps echoed hollowly through the grand corridor, fading into the distance as he made his way toward the royal quarters where his wife and children awaited him, blissfully unaware that their lives were about to be changed forever.

Zhou Yu sat back slowly, his hands folding behind his back. His eyes narrowed, the calm smile still playing at his lips, though now it was filled not with softness, but with a predator’s satisfaction. The snare was shut tight, and the prey no longer struggled.

He turned his gaze to the scholar standing beside him, a young man still pale from the exchange he had been forced to translate. The scholar swallowed hard, but quickly lowered his head, awaiting command.

”Gather those scrolls,” Zhou Yu ordered, his voice low, steady, decisive. He gestured toward a collection of parchment rolls and bound books set neatly upon carved wooden shelves along the chamber walls. ”Translate them. All of them. Funan’s knowledge, its records, its histories, anything may prove valuable. Leave nothing unexamined.”

The scholar bowed deeply, his body shaking slightly under the intensity of Zhou Yu’s gaze. ”Yes, my lord. At once.”

Without delay, he moved to collect the scrolls, arms filling with the weight of documents that might hold secrets of the kingdom, its land, its treasures, its weaknesses.

Zhou Yu watched him for a moment, then rose to his feet, the long folds of his robe swaying with his movements. He turned toward the doorway, his eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light of the chamber. Everything was proceeding according to plan.

Meanwhile, in the gardens of Funan’s royal palace, the air was sweeter and calmer, carrying none of the crushing despair that weighed down the chamber within.

The gardens were an exotic paradise, filled with plants unlike those of the mainland, broad leafed trees, blossoms of vivid red and orange, and creeping vines that wound their way along carved stone paths.

Brightly plumed birds sang in the branches, their calls mingling with the gentle splashing of water from carved fountains. Small animals scurried through the greenery, spotted deer, long tailed monkeys, and other strange creatures harmless to man, yet mesmerizing to those unaccustomed to such sights.

It was here that Ma Chao and Sun Shangxiang walked together, side by side. Zhou Tai and a handful of Sun Clan guards and Imperial soldiers followed at a respectful distance, weapons at the ready, their eyes scanning the paths for danger.

Sun Shangxiang’s face glowed with excitement. Her eyes darted from flower to bird, from statue to fountain, drinking in every new detail with childlike delight. She clasped her hands together, pointing out a bird with shimmering blue wings that hopped along a branch. ”Look, Brother Mengqi! Have you ever seen such a creature before? Its feathers shine like polished jade!”

Ma Chao chuckled softly, shaking his head. ”No, Lady Sun. I must admit, Funan’s gardens hold wonders I have never laid eyes on before.”

She turned in a quick spin, her long sleeves fluttering with the motion, her face bright with a giddy smile. ”It feels like another world entirely. To think, such things exist so far from our homeland.”

Ma Chao’s lips curled into a gentler smile, one touched with quiet admiration. He said nothing for a moment, simply watching her radiance.

”So,” she began, falling into step beside him. ”Now that Funan is... well, pacified... we’ll begin consolidation, yes? We’ll leave a garrison, a few thousand men, perhaps? And some of those scholars who can speak this tongue. To ensure they don’t get any rebellious ideas once our main army sails away.” She tilted her head. ”After that, we return to the mainland, or perhaps we sail to help the Shi clan finally crush Champa if they require our assistance. That’s the plan, correct?”

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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