Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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The half conscious messenger nodded weakly. ”Give it... to His Majesty... urgent... Luoyang...” He didn’t finish. His head slumped forward, and he fainted dead away from exhaustion.

The guard who took the letter, seeing the imperial seal and recognizing the deathly urgency in the messenger’s state, did not hesitate. Clutching the letter as if it were the crown itself, he sprinted across the muddy camp toward the command tent, where the Emperor’s banner fluttered beneath the grey sky.

He sprinted through the maze of tents, ignoring protocol, and burst into the central command tent.

Inside, the air was thick with the tension of a protracted siege. Cao Cao, his face drawn and his brow furrowed, sat listening to his two chief strategists, Guo Jia and Xi Zhicai.

They were hunched over a detailed map of Zitong, their fingers tracing potential assault vectors, their voices low and intense. The campaign against Liu Zhang had bogged down into a brutal war of attrition, and the frustration in the tent was a tangible force.

”The southern breach is our best chance,” Guo Jia was saying, his finger tracing along the parchment. ”If we focus the siege engines there, their morale will break by the third day. The terrain favors us.”

Xi Zhicai nodded thoughtfully. ”Agreed. But we must move quickly. The troops are exhausted, and Liu Zhang’s reinforcements from Chengdu could arrive within a fortnight. We cannot afford delay.”

Cao Cao’s brow furrowed as he studied the lines, silent for a long moment. Then, suddenly the flap of the tent burst open, and a guard stumbled in, panting and wild eyed.

The sudden, unannounced entrance of the panting guard broke the concentration. Cao Cao’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. ”What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice cold and sharp as a whip crack. ”You dare interrupt us without asking for permission?”

The guard dropped to one knee, bowing his head. ”A thousand pardons, Your Majesty! Masters! A messenger from Luoyang, he collapsed upon arrival. He gave me this.” He held out the letter, his hand trembling slightly. ”He said it was an urgent message from Chancellor Xun Yu for Your Majesty’s eyes only.”

The mention of Xun Yu and the word ”urgent” from the capital instantly changed the atmosphere. The frustration over Zitong was replaced by a new, cold dread. Cao Cao gestured sharply ”Bring it here!”, and the guard rose, placed the letter in his outstretched hand, and quickly retreated.

A heavy silence fell as Cao Cao broke the seal and unrolled the parchment. His eyes moved quickly across the lines, and for a moment, there was no reaction.

Then, a subtle twitch in his jaw. Then, a dark flush began to creep up his neck. His knuckles, gripping the paper, turned white. The strategists watched, their own discussion forgotten, sensing the storm gathering in their lord’s stillness.

Suddenly, with a roar of pure, incandescent rage, Cao Cao slammed his fist down onto the heavy wooden table with a thunderous crack. The impact made the map jump and sent ink pots rattling.

”Damn you Lie Fan!”he bellowed, the name a curse that echoed through the tent. ”Bastard! You cunning, treacherous FOX!”

The outburst was so violent, so raw, that both Guo Jia and Xi Zhicai flinched.

”Your Majesty?” Guo Jia ventured, his voice cautious. ”What has happened?”

Cao Cao did not answer immediately. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving, his eyes burning with a mixture of fury and sheer, staggering disbelief. He thrust the letter at Guo Jia. ”Read it,” he snarled, the words gritted out between clenched teeth. ”Read what that upstart emperor of rats has done!”

Guo Jia took the letter, his sharp eyes scanning the elegant, yet now terrifying, script of Xun Yu. Xi Zhicai leaned in to read over his shoulder. As they absorbed the information, he three commands, the 750,000 men, the simultaneous strikes on Shangdang and Hulao Gate, their own faces drained of color.

”750,000 men... marching down...” Xi Zhicai whispered, the number itself seeming to suck the air from the room.

”He has divided his forces, sending the Central and Western Commands against Hulao, and the Northern Command against Shangdang,” Guo Jia summarized, his mind, famed for its clarity, struggling to process the scale. ”He waited. He waited until we were fully committed here, our reserves depleted, and our attention fixed on Zitong. This is... this is a masterstroke of timing.”

”It is a dagger to our heart!” Cao Cao roared, pacing now like a caged tiger. ”Luoyang is exposed! My capital! My home! All while I am stuck in this gods forsaken swamp, battering myself against these stubborn walls!”

He gestured violently towards the distant silhouette of Zitong. ”We are on the cusp of victory here! The Han and Liu Zhang’s forces are breaking! Another push, another week, and this city is mine! And now... this.”

The dilemma was excruciating. To abandon the siege at Zitong now would mean all the blood and treasure spent over months, at Jianmen Pass and here, would be wasted. Liu Zhang would recover, and Yi Province would remain a thorn in their side, a potential ally for Lie Fan.

But to stay and fight meant risking the utter collapse of the northern front. The loss of Shangdang and, unthinkably, Hulao Gate, would open a highway directly to Luoyang. The very foundation of the Cao Wei state was trembling.

”Xun Yu and Jia Kui advise an immediate recall,” Guo Jia said, his voice low. ”They have sent what reserves they can, but it is a stopgap. They... they also request an edict. An edict to authorize the evacuation of Luoyang to Chang’an, if it comes to that.”

The mention of evacuating the capital was a blow that seemed to physically strike Cao Cao. He stopped his pacing, his shoulders slumping for a brief moment under the immense weight. To even contemplate fleeing Luoyang was an humiliation beyond measure.

The three men stood in the command tent, the sounds of the ongoing siege a distant, mocking backdrop. On one side, a hard gought victory within grasp. On the other, the potential annihilation of their dynasty.

Lie Fan, from his throne in distant Xiapi, had not just launched an attack, he had engineered an impossible choice, forcing his greatest rival to sacrifice one vital organ to save another. The war for supremacy had entered its most devastating and decisive phase.

Cao Cao sat in his command chair for a long, silent moment after the last echo of his rage faded into the wet canvas of the tent. His chest rose and fell heavily, every breath thick with fury and humiliation.

The parchment with Xun Yu’s letter still lay half crumpled on the table before him, stained faintly with sweat from his grip. The sound of rain outside was a dull murmur, but inside the tent it felt like thunder.

At last, he exhaled through his nose, slow, controlled, but heavy as lead. ”If Xun Yu himself asks for an edict of evacuation,” he said quietly, the edge in his voice gone but replaced by something far heavier, defeat, ”then it means he has seen the truth already.” His gaze rose from the map, his eyes dark and tired. ”It means there is no way we can relieve Luoyang in time.”

Guo Jia’s expression tightened. The usually sharp glint of calculation in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a shadow of resignation. Xi Zhicai stood frozen, his hands clasped before him as if in prayer.

Cao Cao continued, his voice bitter but resolute. ”Even if we break this city within a week... even if we grind Zitong’s stones into dust and mount Liu Zhang’s head upon the gate, it will be meaningless if Luoyang falls.”

He turned, looking at the two men who had been his eyes and his mind through countless campaigns. ”But if I do not act, if I stay here to savor a single victory while my capital burns, then what am I, if not a coward? A man who fears Lie Fan’s shadow more than the wrath of Heaven itself.”

The tent was still save for the low hiss of oil lamps.

Guo Jia and Xi Zhicai exchanged a long, wordless glance. Both men knew the truth of what their lord said, but that truth carried the weight of tragedy.

Zitong was nearly theirs. The Han banners atop the battlements were ragged, the walls cracked from weeks of bombardment, and morale within was on the verge of breaking. One more push, one final storming, and the province would fall into their hands. Yet now... all of that blood, all of that sacrifice, the lives of men spent like coin, would be rendered worthless.

Xi Zhicai swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper. ”Your Majesty, if we sound the retreat now, we risk undoing months of siege. The army’s morale is stretched thin, yes, but they have fought too hard to end it here with nothing. If we march north in haste, the men will feel betrayed. And...” He hesitated, ”Liu Zhang’s advisors, Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, and Meng Da, they will not sit idle. They will see our retreat as an invitation. They will attack. The terrain favors them if they strike from behind.”

Guo Jia nodded grimly. ”And the roads north are narrow, the rivers swollen from the rains. If the Han army pursues, even a small engagement could turn disastrous. I understand Xun Yu’s warning, but... perhaps we can hold Zitong a few more days—”

Cao Cao’s hand shot up, silencing him.

”No,” he said flatly. ”My decision is final.”

Both strategists fell silent. The words had weight, ironbound and absolute.

”I know,” Cao Cao continued, his gaze distant, ”that we will be attacked. Not ’if,’ but when. Fa Zheng and Zhang Song are not fools, they will strike our rear the moment our banners turn north. And yet...” His jaw tightened. ”Better to bleed on our feet retreating home than to choke in the mud before these walls like trapped beasts.”

He pushed back from the table and stood, his armor creaking faintly. ”See to it that the retreat is as orderly and as perfect as possible. I will not have my men scattered or cut down like cattle.”

Guo Jia and Xi Zhicai bowed deeply, both cupping their hands in solemn acknowledgment. ”By your command, Your Majesty,” they said together.

Cao Cao turned away from them, his gaze falling on the flapping tent entrance where the rain shimmered faintly in the gray light.

His reflection wavered on the slick surface of the table, a tired emperor, his pride wounded, yet still defiant. ”Lie Fan...” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself. ”You think to shame me with your grand display of force. But I will show you. I will return to Luoyang not as prey fleeing the hunter, but as the storm returning home.”

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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