Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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The others exchanged glances. Sima Yi stepped closer to the map, pointing toward a section of the fortress wall marked with small red dots. ”Our Oriole agents within have infiltrated the fortress ranks. They’ve been waiting for my signal. Tonight, when the moon is high, they will ignite the inner powder stores and open the eastern gate of the fortress.”

Zang Hong let out a low whistle. ”A fire from within.”

Sima Yi inclined his head. ”Exactly. No fortress, no matter how strong, can withstand betrayal from its own heart.”

Huang Zhong’s eyes hardened. ”Then let’s be ready. Once the signal flares, my men will storm the breach. The defenders won’t have time to regroup.”

Sima Yi looked out through the tent flap, watching the distant fortress still defiantly holding against the pounding stones. ”Let them have this day,” he murmured. ”By dawn, Hulao Gate will fall and with it, the last hope of Wei’s defense east of Luoyang.”

Then slowly night descended upon the battlefield like a veil of smoke. The fires from the siege engines cast long, trembling shadows across the ruined earth.

Inside the fortress, Wu Ze stood upon the ramparts once more, his body aching from exhaustion, his mind dulled by the endless noise of war. Below him, soldiers huddled by the walls, clutching their weapons with trembling hands. The wounded groaned softly in the courtyards, their cries mingling with the distant thunder of the siege.

The stars were faint tonight, obscured by drifting smoke.

Shen Ming approached again, breathless. ”Commander! Scouts report enemy movement to the west, more siege engines being moved. It seems they’re preparing for a night assault!”

Wu Ze gave a small nod. ”Let them come.” He looked out toward the black horizon, the faint glow of enemy campfires stretching endlessly. ”Three days, I told myself. Perhaps it will end tonight instead.”

He turned to his lieutenant, voice low but steady. ”Shen Ming. When the walls fall and they will, you must not let the men scatter. Gather those who still fight, retreat to the inner courtyard, and hold there as long as you can.”

The younger man’s eyes widened. ”And you, my lord?”

”I will stay here. Someone must watch the gate until the end.”

The lieutenant wanted to protest, but the look in Wu Ze’s eyes silenced him. It was not pride, only acceptance. He bowed deeply, his voice breaking. ”Yes, Commander.”

Wu Ze nodded once. ”Now go.”

The time slowly turned to midnight and wind shifted. For a moment, the fortress seemed eerily still, too still.

Then suddenly came a sudden, deafening roar from deep within. The ground shook violently as an explosion ripped through the lower bastion, a plume of flame tearing upward into the night. Screams echoed across the walls as men were thrown from the ramparts, debris raining down like burning hail.

”Fire!” someone shouted. ”The powder stores, they’ve been hit!”

Wu Ze staggered, clutching the parapet, smoke filling his lungs. His eyes widened as realization struck, betrayal.

”Find the culprits!” he roared. ”Seal the western—”

Another explosion cut him off. This one from the western gate. The massive wooden doors, already weakened from days of bombardment, burst open under the force, splintering into fragments.

Through the fiery breach poured the Hengyuan soldiers, their armor gleaming red and gold in the infernal light.

The battle that followed immediately was full of chaos, screams, the clash of steel, and the acrid stench of burning oil. Wu Ze drew his sword and plunged into the fray, rallying what men he could. They fought like demons, blades flashing in the firelight, refusing to yield even as the tide overwhelmed them.

For the Hengyuan soldiers, Guan Yu and Zhang Fei led the charge from the front, Guan Yu’s glaive cleaving through the defenders with ruthless precision. Behind him, Zhang Fei’s booming voice echoed insults and taunts as Hengyuan banners surged into the courtyard.

The Wei soldiers tried their best in fighting back against the onslaught of the Hengyuan soldiers, but even among the thunderous chaos of battle, it became clear that Guan Yu and Zhang Fei alone had already changed the tide of fate that night.

The sheer presence of those two titans on the field was like watching a storm sweep across the mountainside, unstoppable, consuming everything in their path.

Under the flickering light of burning towers and shattered torches, their figures moved like crimson wraiths. Guan Yu’s Green Dragon Crescent Blade flashed with every stroke, elegant and merciless, the steel singing a grim song as it found its mark among Wei ranks. Zhang Fei, his wild roar echoing above the din, swung his serpent spear with savage precision, each thrust scattering soldiers like dry leaves before the wind.

The defenders fought valiantly, their armor dented, their eyes hollow with fatigue, but courage could not stand long against skill honed by countless campaigns. In mere moments, the once unbroken line upon the ramparts began to crumble.

Wu Ze, standing high upon the northern wall, watched in grim silence as his soldiers were forced back. His heart clenched when he saw the banners of Wei falling one by one, replaced by the fluttering gold sigils of Hengyuan. The night that had begun with such defiance now bore only the stench of smoke and blood.

He could see the flashes of steel, the shadowy figures clashing in the firelight below. Every cry carried up the wall seemed to strike his chest like a hammer. Yet even amid the ruin, he held firm. ”Shen Ming,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the shaft of his spear tightly, ”I pray you remembered my words. Gather the men... fall back to the courtyard... live to hold the heart of the fortress.”

But even as he whispered this, instinct, that ancient, wordless voice honed by countless battles, screamed a warning. His spine stiffened. He turned just as a dark shape dropped from above, a halberd descending like a bolt of lightning.

Steel met steel. The force of the blow rattled through his arms, a shock so fierce that it numbed his fingers. The attacker landed gracefully, the firelight glinting off a polished helm and cold eyes beneath it.

For a moment, silence hung between them, broken only by the distant clash of battle.

”Your instincts are sharp,” the man said, voice deep and steady. ”Few could have blocked that in time.” He lowered his weapon slightly, in a gesture almost of respect. ”I am Zhang Liao, Marshal of the Central Command Army of the Hengyuan Dynasty.”

Wu Ze’s heart sank. Zhang Liao. Even in Wei, his name was known like thunder, the indomitable warrior who had stood against impossible odds and triumphed. A man ranked among the five greatest generals of the dynasty that now sought to consume them.

”I have long admired your defense,” Zhang Liao continued calmly. ”Three days you’ve held Hulao Gate with courage and discipline. Few commanders could have done the same. I did not expect such mettle from a mere Pass Commander and yet, here you stand.”

Wu Ze’s eyes widened, the shock plain even amid the battle’s din. ”You... know who I am?”

A faint smile crossed Zhang Liao’s lips. ”Of course. I make it my duty to know the worth of the men I face. Wu Ze, defender of Hulao, loyal servant of Emperor Wu of Wei. Even your enemies recognize your skill.”

For the first time in that dreadful night, Wu Ze felt something almost like pride flicker in his chest. Straightening his back, he forced a weary smile. ”Then I am honored to finally meet the famed Zhang Liao, though I wish it were under different stars. To be recognized by such a man is no small glory. But...”

He shifted his stance, raising his broken spear in both hands. ”If this is meant as an invitation to surrender, then I must refuse. I have sworn my life to Emperor Wu of Wei, and I will defend this gate to my final breath.”

Zhang Liao’s expression softened for an instant, admiration mingled with sorrow. ”Loyalty such as yours is rare,” he said. ”And wasted, I think, upon a fading dream. But I cannot fault you for it.” He took a long, slow breath, then raised his halberd, its blade catching the fire’s reflection like molten silver. ”Still, I am a soldier of Emperor Hongyi of Hengyuan, the one who shall bring peace to this torn land. Forgive me, Wu Ze... for what must follow.”

Wu Ze gritted his teeth, feet sliding into a defensive stance. The fire around them roared higher, embers spinning like stars between the two men. Then Zhang Liao moved.

The first strike came with the force of thunder. Wu Ze barely parried, the clang ringing in his skull. His arms shook violently from the impact. The second blow followed instantly, sweeping low; Wu Ze leapt back, the halberd’s blade grazing his armor. Sparks flew.

Their dance was brutal and swift. Each movement was life and death, each breath measured against the next heartbeat. Wu Ze countered where he could, his spear darting forward like a viper, but each exchange left him closer to the edge.

Zhang Liao was not merely strong, he was precise, efficient, almost graceful in the way his weapon flowed from strike to strike. His halberd whirled through the air in arcs of red light, leaving afterimages in the smoke. Wu Ze managed to parry four, five, six strikes, each one numbing his arms further.

Around them, the defenders who tried to rush to their commander’s aid were struck down before they could even raise their shields. Zhang Liao’s halberd cut through them like wind through reeds, his motion never breaking stride. The Hengyuan soldiers closed in from behind, their disciplined formation pressing the Wei line further into disarray.

On the sixth exchange, Wu Ze’s fate was sealed. His spear met Zhang Liao’s halberd in a desperate clash, but the strain, the exhaustion, and the overwhelming difference in strength shattered the weapon cleanly in two. The broken tip spun away into the darkness.

Wu Ze froze for a split second. In that brief silence, he looked into Zhang Liao’s eyes and saw not malice, but inevitability.

Then the halberd came down.

Once. Twice. Thrice. The steel bit deep. Wu Ze staggered, blood spilling down his armor, his breath leaving him in broken gasps. His knees buckled, but he still tried to lift what remained of his weapon.

”You fought well,” Zhang Liao said quietly. His voice held no triumph, only solemn respect. ”But your duty is done.”

With one final, swift motion, the halberd swept through the air and ended Wu Ze’s life. For a heartbeat, the battlefield seemed to still. The defenders who had witnessed the duel faltered, their will draining like water from a cracked vessel. ”Commander Wu Ze is dead!” someone screamed, voice trembling. ”The commander is dead!”

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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