Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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”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?”

Ma Chao nodded, impressed as always by her sharp mind. ”You have it precisely, Lady Sun. Consolidation, garrison, administration. Then, yes, we either return home to report our victory to His Majesty, or we extend our campaign to aid our allies. The final decision will rest with your eldest brother and Advisor Zhou Yu.”

He then let out a soft, low chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

Sun Shangxiang stopped and planted her hands on her hips, feigning indignation. ”And what, may I ask, is so funny, Brother Mengqi? Did I say something amusing?”

Ma Chao’s smile widened. ”No, not amusing. It’s just... you are much cuter when you show this smart, strategic side of yours. The way your eyes light up when you’re figuring things out... it’s why I chuckled. Because you are incredibly cute.”

The effect was immediate and total. A brilliant, deep blush exploded across Sun Shangxiang’s cheeks, painting them a rosy red that rivaled the most vibrant flowers in the garden. She instantly spun around, presenting him with her back, and stared very intently at a nearby bush as if it were the most fascinating thing she had ever seen.

”W... what nonsense are you s... suddenly spouting!” she stammered, her voice an octave higher than usual. ”Of course I’m cute! You don’t have to point it out so... so bluntly!” She crossed her arms, trying and failing to look annoyed.

After a moment, she added, her voice a little muffled, ”And you’d better stay true to your promise! After this campaign, you will go to Brother Lie Fan and ask for his help to... to properly propose for my hand. If you don’t, I’ll have my Eldest Brother, my Second Brother, Brother Gongjin, and even Brother Lie Fan himself teach you a lesson you won’t forget!”

Hearing this, Ma Chao’s expression shifted instantly to one of utter seriousness. He stepped around to face her, his playful demeanor gone. He looked her directly in the eyes, his gaze intense and sincere.

”I swear it on my honor, Shangxiang,” he said, his voice deep and resonant. ”The moment our flags return to Xiapi, I will go before His Majesty. I will kneel and I will formally request his permission and his blessing to marry you. This is my solemn vow.”

Sun Shangxiang kept her face turned away, but he could see the happy, unstoppable smile that had spread across her lips. She gave a small, happy nod, her heart fluttering like the wings of the tropical birds in the trees above.

”Then... I shall hold you to it,” she said softly.

The two continued their stroll, silence falling between them, yet the air was filled not with awkwardness but with the unspoken warmth of a bond steadily growing stronger.

The following day, the mood within the palace was funereal. The main hall, once a place of vibrant court life, was now a stage for a somber ritual. Sun Ce, representing the might and authority of the Hengyuan Dynasty, stood on one side of a heavy, ornate table. He was resplendent in his general’s armor, the embodiment of victorious power.

Across from him stood King Kaundinya III. He was dressed in his formal royal robes, but they seemed to hang on him, as if he had shrunk overnight. His face was a mask of stoic resignation, but the dark circles under his eyes spoke of a sleepless night filled with painful conversations.

On the table between them lay two documents. One was written in elegant, flowing Chinese characters, the other in the intricate, curling script of Funan. Both detailed the same terms, protectorate status, yearly tribute, military disbandment, bureaucratic integration, and the final, devastating condition, the giving of a royal son as a permanent ”guest” in a distant capital.

Two brushes and two seals sat beside the papers. Sun Ce’s seal was a tiger, a symbol of his fierce martial power and as Marquis Dingdong of Changsha. The king’s was a stylized representation of the Naga, the sacred serpent of Funanese mythology.

The hall was packed with a silent audience. Zhou Yu, Ma Chao, and Sun Shangxiang stood behind Sun Ce, their faces unreadable. On the other side, the Funanese royal family and a handful of their highest, most despairing courtiers watched. The queen’s face was already streaked with silent tears.

A scholar, different from the one from the previous day, read the terms of the treaty aloud in both languages, his voice echoing in the tense silence. There was nothing to discuss. The time for negotiation was over.

Sun Ce picked up his brush first. His movements were confident, decisive. He signed his name with a flourish, then pressed his tiger seal firmly into the red ink paste and stamped it beside his signature. He looked up, his gaze expectant.

All eyes turned to King Kaundinya III. The king’s hand trembled as he reached for his brush. He dipped it in the ink, the movement slow, as if the brush weighed a thousand pounds. He signed his name on both documents, each stroke an agony.

Then he took the Naga seal. He held it for a long moment, looking at the symbol of his dynasty, his lineage, his power. With a final, shuddering breath that was audible in the dead quiet of the hall, he pressed it down onto the paper.

The moment the seal lifted, leaving its imprint forever binding his kingdom, a heart wrenching sob broke the silence. The Queen of Funan, who had been holding her composure by a thread, collapsed against her daughters.

The sound was one of pure, unadulterated grief, the raw understanding that the document was now irrevocable, and that one of her beloved children was lost to her.

She knew her husband would now have to make the terrible choice of which son to send away forever. Her cries, the official seal still fresh on the page, marked the true, bitter end of Funan’s independence. The conquest was complete, not just in battle, but in law and in spirit.

The courtiers of Funan lowered their heads, their hearts breaking with her cry. Even among the soldiers of the Hengyuan Dynasty, a few shifted uncomfortably, though none dared let it show upon their faces.

The air in the Funan throne room was thick enough to taste, a cloying mixture of incense, sweat, and the metallic tang of despair. The echo of the queen’s shattered sob seemed to hang in the silence long after the sound itself had faded, a ghost of grief that clung to the tapestries and the polished stone floors.

King Kaundinya III stood frozen, his hand still hovering over the document that had sealed his nation’s fate. The red impression of the Naga seal stared up from the parchment like a fresh wound.

”It is done,” he had whispered, and the words were not just an acknowledgment but a burial rite for a kingdom.

Across the table, Sun Ce gave a single, firm nod. There was no gloating in his expression, no visible triumph. There was only the grim satisfaction of a difficult task completed. He gestured to an aide, who carefully lifted the Chinese copy of the treaty, blowing gently on the ink to dry it before rolling it and placing it in a protective lacquered tube. The Funanese copy remained before the king, a monument to his surrender.

The formalities were over. With a final, almost imperceptible glance at the devastated royal family, Sun Ce turnednand alongside the others, their boots echoed with a final, decisive rhythm as they marched from the hall, leaving the court of Funan to its mourning.

The heavy doors thudded shut, cutting off the sound of sorrow. The victors walked in silence through the opulent corridors, the weight of what they had just accomplished settling upon them. It was Zhou Yu who finally broke the quiet, his voice, as always, calm and analytical.

”The structure is in place. Now we must ensure it holds. Bofu, I recommend we begin the consolidation immediately. The garrison commanders need their orders, the scholars their assignments. We must move before the shock wears off and resentment begins to fester.”

Sun Ce clapped a hand on Zhou Yu’s shoulder. ”Your mind never rests, does it, Gongjin? You are right, of course. See to it. Brother Mengqi, you will oversee the selection of the troops who will remain. I want veterans. Steady men. Not the hot headed ones looking for a fight.”

”It will be done,” Ma Chao affirmed, his mind already sorting through the roster of his best and most disciplined cavalrymen who could be repurposed as a formidable garrison force.

As they dispersed to their tasks, the world of the Funan palace, with its stifling atmosphere of defeat, began to recede. But to the northeast, in a very different and far less luxurious setting, another drama was reaching its bloody climax.

The air here was not filled with incense, but with the stink of smoke, unburied corpses, and desperation. The fort, a former Champa outpost now firmly held by the Shi Clan, stood like a scarred, stubborn beast amidst the churned mud and broken siege engines. For eight long days, the Champa army had hurled itself against the reinforced walls, and for eight days, it had been broken.

Inside the fort, Shi Xin wiped a grimy hand across his brow, looking out over the parapet at the carnage below. The Champa assault had weakened to a trickle, a far cry from the furious, pride driven waves of the first few days.

”They’re finished,” Shi Xin stated, coming to stand beside his brother. His armor was dented, his face smudged with soot, but his eyes were bright with the clarity of imminent victory. ”Their morale is shattered. They’ve lost more than two thirds of their men. They’re just going through the motions now.”

Shi Hui, the youngest, joined them, his usual impetuous energy tempered by the grim reality of the prolonged siege. ”The captains who pushed for this folly are mostly dead. The ones left... they look like they’ve seen a ghost.”

Shi Zhi nodded slowly. ”The general must see it. He must know it’s over.” But in the heart of the crumbling Champa camp, it was clear that seeing and accepting were two very different things. The command tent was a pitiful sight. Once a symbol of authority, it was now patched and stained, its fabric reeking of defeat and damp. Inside, the atmosphere was even worse.

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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