Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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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!”

Despair swept the ramparts like a plague. Men dropped their swords, shields clattering upon the stone. Others, unwilling to surrender, leapt from the walls into the inferno below. The last shreds of organized defense crumbled in an instant.

Zhang Liao lowered his weapon, silent. He looked at Wu Ze’s fallen body for a long moment, then gave a small bow, the gesture of a warrior honoring another. ”Rest well, brave one,” he murmured. ”Your loyalty was true, even if misplaced.”

Then he raised his halberd toward the courtyard below. ”Press forward! End it quickly!”

The order carried like thunder.

Below, the battle still raged, but it was collapsing fast. Word of Wu Ze’s death spread through the fortress like wildfire. The defenders who had fought with grim determination only moments ago now fought with despair.

Shen Ming Shen Ming, still rallying the remaining troops in the courtyard, head the news, and could scarcely believe it. He felt the words like a blade to the heart. ”What did you say?” He muttered. ”Commander Wu... dead?”

The messenger nodded, his face pale, streaked with soot and tears.

Shen Ming stood frozen for a long moment, disbelief and rage warring inside him. ”No... no, that can’t be.” He gripped his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white. ”He told me to hold the inner courtyard. He told me to survive!”

The sounds of battle around him grew dim, replaced by a ringing in his ears. He could see the flames licking at the towers, hear the screams of the wounded — but in his heart there was only one voice: the memory of his commander’s last words.

The men around him looked to him for orders, for strength, but all he could think of was vengeance, as something inside him broke.

”Then we’ll avenge him!” he roared, his eyes burning. ”If we must die, we’ll die taking them with us!”

His soldiers ,exhausted, wounded, and terrified, shouted in answer. The last spark of defiance flared once more as Shen Ming rallied what remained of the garrison and charged straight into the advancing Hengyuan lines. With a cry that tore through the smoke, Shen Ming charged headlong into the storm.

But fury is no substitute for strategy.

Guan Yu saw the charge coming saw the desperation in Shen Ming’s eyes, and knew at once what kind of man he faced, one bound not by hope of victory, but by devotion and grief, his expression cold and composed. He shifted his stance, his glaive glinting like starlight in the fire’s reflection. ”A brave fool,” he said softly.

When the two forces met, the sound was like a mountain collapsing. Shen Ming swung his blade wildly, cutting down two soldiers, three soldiers, but the Hengyuan lines did not break. They absorbed his attack like an ocean swallowing a stone.

And then Guan Yu moved.

He descended upon the battlefield with the stillness of death. When their blades met, it was like the meeting of fate and fury. Shen Ming’s strikes were wild, fueled by anguish. Guan Yu parried each one effortlessly, his calm almost unbearable to behold.

”Stand down,” Guan Yu called between blows, his voice steady. ”Your courage is worthy. Do not waste your life on pride.”

But Shen Ming only screamed in reply, slashing upward with reckless strength. ”Silence, murderer! For Commander Wu Ze!”

For a moment, Guan Yu’s expression softened, pity flickered in his eyes. Then, as Shen Ming lunged once more, the Green Dragon Crescent Blade moved in a single, perfect arc.

Steel met flesh. Shen Ming’s attack halted mid swing. He froze, eyes wide with disbelief. Slowly, his sword slipped from his grasp, clattering against the stones as he fell to his knees.

Guan Yu caught him before he struck the ground, easing him down gently. ”You fought well,” he said softly. ”Better than many I have faced.”

Shen Ming’s lips moved, blood filling his mouth. ”Commander... forgive me... I could not...”

Then his eyes glazed over, the life fading from them like a candle guttering in the wind.

When Guan Yu rose, his expression was grim. The charge faltered. Around him, the last remnants of the Wei defenders were being cut down or captured under the inexorable advance of Hengyuan steel.

When the final cry faded, Hulao Gate, the ancient guardian of the East, stood silent at last. The fires still burned, casting long shadows over the fallen.

Sima Yi and Zhang Hong rode through the gates of the inner fortress at dawn, the first rays of sunlight glinting off his armor. Behind him came Zhang Liao, Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, Taishi Ci, alongside the other generals of Hengyuan, their banners fluttering above the ruins.

Sima Yi dismounted, his boots crunching over debris and ash. He looked around, the smoldering ramparts, the broken towers, the corpses of thousands, and let out a long breath.

”Hulao Gate,” he murmured. ”At last.”

Zhang Liao approached, wiping his halberd clean before sheathing it. ”The defenders fought with honor. Their commander, Wu Ze, he was a man of true courage.”

”I expected nothing less,” Sima Yi replied. His gaze hardened. ”But courage cannot stop history. The old order is finished.”

He turned to an aide. ”Send word to His Majesty. Hulao Gate has fallen. Luoyang will soon follow.”

The messenger bowed and galloped off.

For a moment, all of them stood in silence, the wind carrying the smell of smoke and blood. In the distance, the first light of dawn bathed the battlefield in a pale, golden hue, the light of a new age, born from the ashes of the old.

Sima Yi clasped his hands behind his back. ”Prepare the army to march and coordinate with the Wester Command. We move on Luoyang at once. The time for mercy has passed.”

Zhang Liao nodded quietly. Guan Yu, standing beside him, looked eastward, toward the ancient capital, and murmured, ”So ends the gate that guarded the heart of the lands capital for centuries. Perhaps it is fitting that it falls to the dawn.”

Zhang Fei snorted. ”Pretty words, brother. But I say let’s finish this and drink to it later.”

A faint smile touched Guan Yu’s lips. ”Perhaps.”

Behind them, the soldiers of Hengyuan raised their banners high, the gold dragon of the Empire rippling in the morning wind. Trumpets sounded across the plain. The march toward Luoyang had begun.

Meanwhile, at Luoyang, the dawn brought no warmth. The pale light filtered through the mist that hung over the ancient capital, turning the city into a world of half-shadows and uneasy quiet. The wind carried faint echoes from the east, whispers of battle, the distant rumble of thunder that was not thunder at all.

In the central hall of the administrative compound, Xun Yu sat alone, his hands clasped upon the table before him. His face, usually composed, betrayed a rare flicker of dread. Before him lay a hastily written report, its parchment still smelling faintly of smoke and ash. The seal of the courier had been broken only moments earlier.

”The inner fortress of Hulao Gate has fallen at dawn,” the message read. ”The commander, Wu Ze, has been slain in battle. The Hengyuan army is consolidating its lines and may advance west within days.”

Xun Yu’s eyes moved slowly over the words again, as though rereading them might alter their meaning. But the truth was inescapable.

Hulao Gate, the great bulwark of the east, the gate that had protected Luoyang for generations, was gone.

He closed his eyes briefly, a faint tremor passing through his hand. ”So it has come to this,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor outside. Moments later, a young attendant entered and bowed deeply. ”My lord, the others have arrived as you commanded.”

”Send them in,” Xun Yu said quietly.

Within moments, Cheng Yu, Jia Kui, Tian Feng, and Xu You entered the chamber. Each of them carried the exhaustion of sleepless nights, the burden of strategists who had watched their plans unravel piece by piece. Xun Yu rose to greet them, his expression grave.

”I have called you here because we face a situation none of us wished to see,” he began, sliding the report across the table for them to read. ”The fortress of Hulao has fallen. Wu Ze is dead. The Hengyuan Dynasty army now controls the gateway to Luoyang.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

Jia Kui was the first to break the silence, his voice sharp with disbelief. ”What? Impossible! We had reports that Wu Ze still held firm only yesterday!”

”Yesterday,” Xun Yu said, his tone somber, ”was a lifetime ago.”

Tian Feng leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he read the report himself. ”If this is true,” he said slowly, ”then the Hengyuan army will rest for perhaps a an hour or two, four maybe the longest, before marching west. They could be at Luoyang’s walls within the day.”

”The day?” Xu You scoffed bitterly. ”You’re optimistic, Tian Feng. With Sima Yi commanding, they might reach us in several hours.”

The room fell silent again. The sound of wind brushing against the paper screens seemed deafening in its stillness.

Jia Kui exhaled heavily, shaking his head. ”Then we have no time. This means only one thing, we must retreat to Chang’an immediately.”

Xu You nodded firmly, almost desperately. ”Yes. The situation is no longer safe for us here. His Majesty’s last command was clear, if the level of danger becomes uncontrollable, we are to withdraw and preserve what remains of our administration. Staying here now is suicide.”

His voice trembled slightly at the end, though whether from fear or anger, none could tell.

Cheng Yu, who had been silent until then, finally spoke. His voice was low, thoughtful, but heavy with resignation. ”It seems we will have to abandon the plans we prepared,” he said. ”The traps, the surprises for the Hengyuan army... all for nothing. But such is war. The tide changes faster than a man’s breath.”

Tian Feng inclined his head, his expression unreadable. ”Yes. I oversaw much of the preparation myself, and though it pains me to admit, they will serve no purpose now. Better to preserve our lives and our Emperor’s hope of recovery than to die for plans that cannot be carried out.”

Their words hung in the air like the tolling of a funeral bell.

All eyes turned then to Xun Yu. For all their counsel, the final decision rested with him. The others knew it and he knew it too.

He remained seated for a long moment, silent, his eyes distant as though searching for answers in the swirling dust that danced in the light. Inside his mind raged the eternal struggle between reason and duty, between the heart that longed to stay and fight, and the mind that understood the futility of it.

If they stayed, they could finish the evacuation, ensure that every last supply, document, and artifact was sent westward. But in doing so, they risked capture, and capture would mean more than their deaths. It would mean the fall of Wei’s administrative mind, the heart of its governance, and it’s combat power.

Finally, Xun Yu sighed, a long, weary exhale that seemed to drain the strength from his body. ”We will evacuate,” he said at last. ”Immediately. The moment the last caravan is ready, we leave Luoyang and head for Hongnong.”

The others exchanged glances.

”Hongnong?” Xu You asked, startled. ”Not directly to Chang’an?”

”If we go straight to Chang’an, we can’t oversee what happened clearly,” Xun Yu explained. ”Staying st Hongnong is the best chocie. Once we regroup there, we can link with His Majesty’s forces. If I am correct, he will already have departed from Chang’an after resupply, bound for Hongnong to reestablish control in the east.”

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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