Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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The horns sounded low and steady, like the breath of a dragon stirring. Slowly, the massive host began to move, hundreds of thousands of soldiers marching as one, their steps measured and disciplined. The road to Luoyang stretched before them, lit only by the pale shimmer of the moon.

Six hours passed for the march. The rhythmic thunder of boots and hooves filled the night. Mist rolled in from the fields, veiling the columns of men in a spectral haze. Occasionally, a flicker of torchlight revealed weary but determined faces, the eyes of men who knew that they were walking into history.

When the first light of dawn began to touch the eastern sky, the walls of Luoyang came into view.

Even from a distance, Sima Yi could tell that his prediction had been correct. The gates stood wide open, the banners of Wei nowhere to be seen. The towers were silent, no archers, no sentries, only the ghostly stillness of an abandoned capital.

Zhang Liao and Taishi Ci raised their hands, halting the army a few hundred paces from the open gate. The instinct to surge forward, to claim the prize, was strong. But before they could give the order, Sima Yi guided his horse forward between them.

”A moment, Marshals,” he said, his voice soft but firm. ”A city that surrenders without a fight is a city that may have chosen a different kind of defense. The absence of soldiers does not mean the absence of danger. Xun Yu is a thorough man. He would not leave us a gift without considering the possibility of wrapping it in thorns.”

”There could be traps, collapsed tunnels, firepots rigged to gates, pockets of fanatics waiting in ambush. Caution now will prevent unnecessary casualties. We have won the city, let us not lose men to pride. Send in scouts first. No torches, only signals.” The scouts moved swiftly, disappearing through the open gates. Minutes stretched. Then came the signal, two quick flashes of light from within the city.

”All clear,” Zang Hong said.

Sima Yi’s voice carried like a cold wind. ”Advance, but with care. Keep the formations tight. I want the streets secured district by district.”

The two marshals, seasoned warriors who respected the mind as much as the sword, nodded. The order was passed. ”Advance with caution! Check every doorway, every alley! Assume nothing!”

The Hengyuan soldiers, their discipline paramount, did not rush. They entered Luoyang not as a conquering horde, but as a methodical, occupying force. Units fanned out, securing the main thoroughfares, their shields held high, their eyes scanning the rooftops and shadowed windows.

The silence was broken by the steady, marching beat of their boots and the occasional shouted report of ”Clear!” echoing through the empty streets.

The citizens of Luoyang, those who had chosen to stay, watched from behind shuttered windows and cracked doors. They saw not the barbaric plunderers of nightmare, but an army of grim, orderly soldiers. There was no cheering, but there was also no screaming. A tense, watchful peace descended.

On the other hand, soon reports began to arrive. Fires still smoldered in several areas, warehouses, supply depots, administrative halls. Scrolls turned to ash, granaries reduced to blackened ruin.

A messenger rode up to Sima Yi and saluted. ”Strategist, the western quarter is secure. But many storehouses and offices have been burned. It seems deliberate.”

Sima Yi received the report without visible reaction. ”Let them burn,” he said. ”Those are what the Wei could not take with them. If I were Xun Yu, I would have done the same.”

Zang Hong glanced sideways at him. ”Then there is nothing of value left?”

”Oh, there is value still,” Sima Yi said quietly. ”The people. The city itself. And the message this sends to the realm, that even Luoyang, once the heart of the empire, now bows before Hengyuan.”

He spurred his horse forward, leading the officers through the streets. Around them, Hengyuan soldiers worked swiftly, extinguishing fires where they could, clearing rubble, helping civilians out of collapsed homes. The people, dazed and fearful, watched in silence as the golden dragon banners unfurled across the capital.

Near the central plaza, Guan Yu dismounted to oversee the securing of the palace gates. Zhang Fei stood nearby, barking orders with his booming voice, ensuring discipline amid the chaos.

By noon, Luoyang was firmly in Hengyuan hands. The once grand city, though scarred and hollowed by abandonment, stood quiet again, not in peace, but in surrender.

Sima Yi ascended the steps of the Imperial Palace and looked out across the vast courtyard below. The golden dragon standard of the Hengyuan Dynasty now fluttered where once the banners of Han and then Wei had flown. He stood for a long moment, the morning sun glinting off his armor, his expression unreadable.

”Send a raven to His Majesty,” he said at last. ”Luoyang is ours.”

Sima Yi’s personal aide bowed deeply and ran to deliver the news.

Zhang Liao approached, removing his helmet. ”The soldiers are securing the remaining quarters. Casualties minimal. We found several hidden caches of documents that escaped the fires, I’ve ordered them collected and sealed for your review.”

”Excellent,” Sima Yi replied. ”We will rest the army for one full day before proceeding. Once the men are replenished and supplies secures, we march for Hangu Pass and then to Hongnong. Wei’s retreat will be swift, but not swift enough.”

Taishi Ci gave a small, satisfied nod. ”And when Hangu falls, there will be nothing left between us and Chang’an except for Tong Pass.”

Sima Yi’s gaze lingered on the horizon. ”Yes. His Majesty’s grand vision are slowly coming to fruition.”

For a moment, silence settled over the generals. The weight of what they had accomplished pressed upon them, centuries of imperial legacy, seized in a single night. Then, from below, the horns of victory began to sound. The soldiers cheered, their voices rising like thunder across the city.

Meanwhile the raven Sima Yi’s aide have send was currently slicing through the wind like an arrow of shadow, its black feathers shimmering faintly under the sunlight as it soared across the vast plains of the Central Plains.

For two full days and nights, it traveled tirelessly, resting only briefly atop lonely waystations or barren trees, before taking flight again toward its destination, Xiapi, the imperial heart of the Hengyuan Dynasty.

Within the marble halls of the Imperial Palace, in the quiet sanctum of the royal study, Lie Fan sat surrounded by maps, documents, and sealed reports. The scent of ink and wax lingered thick in the air. His eyes, sharp and alert even in the late afternoon light, were studying the latest report from the Oriole Agents stationed near Hongnong when the sound of fluttering wings drew his attention.

The raven landed gracefully on the bronze perch beside the window, its beady eyes catching the light like black gems. One of the Imperial Maids immediately approached, bowing deeply before taking the letter tied to the bird’s leg and presenting it to Lie Fan with both hands.

Lie Fan broke the seal, recognizing the insignia of Sima Yi. His gaze scanned the parchment quickly, his mind absorbing every line, every detail.

Then, slowly, the corners of his lips curved upward.

”So... Luoyang has fallen,” he murmured, his voice carrying a blend of satisfaction and reflection. ”The heart of the old empire now beats for Hengyuan.”

He leaned back in his chair, the sunlight catching the golden trim of his robes as he reread the letter. Though the campaign had taken slightly longer than the initial timetable he had outlined, the result was still within the grand vision he had laid out. Luoyang, the cradle of dynasties, was now firmly under his banner.

”Even if the clock ran slower,” he whispered, ”the hands still turned toward destiny.”

He stood from his desk and walked toward the large map that was pinned upon the far wall, a detailed representation of the Central Plains, mountains and rivers inked in flowing brushstrokes. His eyes traced the path of conquest from Hulao Pass to Luoyang, and then westward toward Hongnong and Hangu Pass.

The smile deepened on his face.

According to the Oriole reports, Cao Cao and his main army arrived at Hongnong. That meant a final, inevitable clash was approaching, one that would decide whether Wei would survive or crumble into history.

”It will either be at Hongnong... or Hangu,” Lie Fan said quietly to himself, fingertips resting lightly on the map. ”Whichever ground they choose, it will be their grave.”

He knew Cao Cao well, the man’s cunning, his pride, his tenacity. For all his brilliance, Cao Cao had been pushed into the same corner where the Ma Clan once stood — isolated, desperate, hemmed in by terrain and circumstance. Now, with Hengyuan controlling the heartlands and the river crossings, Cao Cao’s domain was shrinking, confined mostly to Liang Province and the lands of the northwest.

Lie Fan exhaled softly, his mind calculating, already envisioning the next steps, logistics, troop movements, and the post war integration of territories. Yet even in his concentration, there was a flicker of human warmth, a moment of quiet pride in the talents he have acquired and deployed.

Sima Yi, Huang Zhong, Zhang Liao, Taishi Ci, all had executed their roles perfectly, the gears of his grand machine turning as he had designed.

Just as he reached for a quill to write a response, a soft knock interrupted his thoughts.

”Your Majesty, may this one enter?” came a familiar voice, gentle and melodic, it was Zhen Ji.

Lie Fan’s stern expression melted into something warmer. ”Enter,” he called, his tone softening.

The door opened, and Zhen Ji stepped gracefully inside, cradling a small infant wrapped in a fine silk blanket. Though she had given birth only a few days prior, she carried herself with an ethereal grace that seemed to defy mere physical recovery. On the other hand, the baby’s cheeks were round and rosy, his mouth occasionally move on its own. Behind her, a few handmaidens stood discreetly outside, bowing before closing the door.

Lie Fan’s heart softened instantly. The war maps, the reports, the politics, all of it seemed to fade away as he saw his wife and son.

”Zhen’er,” he said with a faint smile, rising from his seat. ”You should be resting.”

”I am feeling much better now,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of shyness as she approached him. ”I wished to see you... and so did Mumu.”

”Mumu,” Lie Fan repeated affectionately, the name he had given their newborn son, Lie Muyang, meaning ”bathed in the sun.” He gave that name because he wanted his child’s life to be filled with the warmth and sweetness that had been so cruelly denied to his mother, and that was so often sacrificed on the hard road of unification that he, the father, was forced to walk.

Lie Fan then bent down and kissed the baby gently on the cheek. The boy stirred slightly, eyes still closed, and let out a soft coo.

Lie Fan chuckled. ”He has your calm nature.”

Zhen Ji smiled faintly, though there was a flicker of melancholy in her eyes. ”And your stubbornness, I think.”

He laughed quietly and wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin gently upon her shoulder. For a long moment, the two stood there, surrounded by the quiet of the imperial study, the weight of empire momentarily replaced by the warmth of family.

Then, Zhen Ji spoke again, her tone changing slightly, hesitant and fragile. ”Your Majesty,” she said softly. ”I heard something today... from the handmaidens in the harem. They were whispering that... my father has been arrested by the Censors. They said he was accused of corruption and bribery. Is it true?”

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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