Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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More than crowns. More than territory. This mattered. It made him miss his other children fiercely. Their voices. Their laughter echoing through Xiapi’s halls. The weight of little hands clinging to his robes. The nightly chaos of a palace that was not merely a seat of power, but a home. The journey stretched on.

Villages passed. Rivers crossed. Camps rose and fell like clockwork. The imperial machine moved flawlessly, sustained by discipline and trust.

Two weeks.

Then two and a half.

At last, Xiapi appeared on the horizon.

When at last the outer watchtowers of Xiapi rose on the horizon, the mood of the entire procession shifted.

Runners were dispatched ahead. Banners were unfurled to their full height.

And when the city learned that their emperor had returned—

The sound was thunder.

Cheers rolled outward from the walls like a living wave. Bells rang without order, without restraint. People flooded the streets, kneeling, shouting blessings, weeping openly.

Cheers.

Not scattered cries. Not polite acclaim.

A roar.

Word had spread ahead of them, carried faster than horses. The Emperor had returned. Yi Province had surrendered. The Han was gone.

People flooded the streets, kneeling, cheering, shouting blessings. Children were lifted onto shoulders. Old men wept openly. Women pressed their palms together, whispering prayers of gratitude.

”Heaven favors our Emperor!”

”The realm is getting closer to be unified once again!”

”Long live Emperor Hongyi!”

Lie Fan did not wave immediately. He let the sound wash over him, eyes scanning the faces. These were not coerced cheers. These were not staged.

These were people who believed their lives had improved, and would continue to improve.

Only then did he raise his hand.

The roar intensified.

When the grand procession finally ground to a halt before the soaring gates of the imperial palace, it was more than an arrival, it was a homecoming of mythic proportions. Lie Fan dismounted with the easy grace of a man returning to his own skin. The solid, familiar stones of Xiapi were beneath his feet.

Muchen scrambled down beside him, trying to maintain his princely decorum but failing to hide the relief and excitement of being home. Ma Chao immediately moved to help Sun Shangxiang alight from her carriage, his actions protective and proud.

Then Wannian emerged, the sleeping Sima Shi a precious bundle in her arms, her attendants forming a quiet shield around her. Zhao Yun, with infinite care, helped a weary but smiling Ma Yunlu from her cushioned carriage.

Lie Fan took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the air of his capital, a mix of dust, incense, and boundless ambition. He let out a booming, contented laugh. ”It is good,” he declared, his voice carrying to those nearby, ”to be home!”

He turned to Muchen, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. ”Go,” he said, his tone softening into the intimate language of family. ”Find your mother, your other mothers, and your brothers and sisters. Tell them all to gather in the Harem Palace this evening. No ministers, no petitions. Just family. We will have dinner together.”

Muchen’s face lit up with a happiness that was purely boyish. He nodded eagerly. ”Yes, Imperial Father!” He bowed quickly and then darted into the palace entrance, a small contingent of his personal guards scrambling to keep up with his suddenly brisk pace.

Wannian lingered.

”Imperial Brother,” she called softly.

Lie Fan turned with a smile. ”Sister? What is it?”

”I merely wished to say goodbye properly, Imperial Brother,” she said, her expression warm. ”My mother in law and Zhongda’s siblings will be anxious for news. I should return to the Sima estate.” She shifted the baby in her arms. ”And this little one needs his own cradle.”

Lie Fan nodded, understanding. ”Of course. Travel safely. Give my regards to Lady Zhang.”

He watched as Wannian offered a graceful curtsy, then was helped back into her carriage, which peeled away from the main procession to head toward the Isma Clan estate in the ministers’ quarter of the city.

As her carriage rolled away, Zhao Yun, Ma Yunlu, Ma Chao, and Sun Shangxiang approached as a group. The men bowed deeply, fists cupped. The women offered elegant curtsies. ”Your Majesty,” they chorused.

”Rise, all of you,” Lie Fan said, gesturing them up. His eyes went first to Ma Yunlu. ”Lady Ma Yunlu, how are you faring? The journey was not too taxing?”

Ma Yunlu placed a hand on her rounded belly, a serene smile on her face. ”I am quite well, Your Majesty. A little tired, but well. The carriage was most comfortable, thanks to your consideration.”

Before Lie Fan could respond, a voice, bright and cheeky, cut in. ”And what about me, Your Majesty? No inquiry into my condition?” Sun Shangxiang stood with her hands on her hips, a playful challenge in her eyes, though the respectful title was still there.

The question was so boldly irreverent, so perfectly her, that Lie Fan couldn’t help it. He burst into another peal of laughter.

Beside her, Zhao Yun and Ma Yunlu ducked their heads, shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth. They were long accustomed to Sun Shangxiang’s fearless spirit.

Ma Chao, however, stood utterly stunned. His eyes widened slightly as he looked from his new wife, who was grinning unabashedly at the Emperor, to Lie Fan, who was laughing as if she’d told the best joke in the world.

He knew they had a close, sibling like bond due to how close the Emperor is with the Sun Clan, but to witness such easy, familiar teasing directed at the most powerful man in the world, the man before whom entire kingdoms knelt, was a profound shock.

It was a glimpse into a layer of his emperor’s humanity he’d never seen, and a stark reminder of the extraordinary woman he had married, who moved through the world with a confidence that seemed to bend reality itself.

Lie Fan meanwhile wiped a tear from his eye. ”You look as lively as ever. I assume that means healthy.”

Sun Shangxiang grinned. ”Naturally.”

Ma Chao shook his head, half in awe, half in disbelief.

Lie Fan clapped him on the shoulder. ”You’ll get used to it.”

As laughter lingered in the air.

The laughter lingered for a few heartbeats longer, light and genuine, before the machinery of empire slowly began to reassert itself.

Yet even as Lie Fan turned toward the inner courtyards, his thoughts stretched outward, far beyond the walls, far beyond the cheers still echoing in the streets. Because while Xiapi rejoiced, another city groaned beneath the weight of war.

Meanwhile to the west of Xiapi, smoke hung low over the land like a shroud that refused to lift.

The siege of Hongnong had ground on for months, a brutal contest of endurance rather than brilliance. Trenches scarred the earth. Siege towers stood half burned, their frames blackened skeletons against the sky.

The Hengyuan banners flew in disciplined rows beyond bowshot, unyielding, while within the walls Wei’s soldiers clung to stone and desperation.

Supplies were the difference.

Hengyuan had them in obscene abundance, grain caravans arriving like clockwork, replacement weapons, fresh troops rotating in measured intervals. Wei, by contrast, rationed carefully, every sack of rice counted, every arrow recovered after battle if it could be.

Hongnong could not fall.

If it did, the Wei heartland would be exposed like flesh beneath torn armor. One city lost would become ten. One retreat would turn into a rout. The entire structure Cao Cao had spent his life building would begin to dissolve, grain by grain, castle by castle.

The air inside the main hall of Hongnong’s governor’s citadel was thick with a tension far denser than the smoke from the cooking fires outside. It was the heavy, cloying atmosphere of a corner being slowly, inexorably painted around them. The grand map table was littered with reports, troop markers, and empty cups of cold tea.

Around it stood the pillars of the State of Wei, Cao Cao’s sons, his cadre of brilliant strategists, and his most loyal, battle worn commanders.

Cao Ang, his eldest son and Crown Prince, stood straight backed, jaw set, bearing the weight of inheritance already pressing upon him. Cao Pi lingered nearby, expression more guarded, eyes sharp and calculating.

Xun Yu stood calm and composed, hands folded within his sleeves. Guo Jia leaned slightly forward, eyes alight with restless intellect. Xi Zhicai, Cheng Yu, Jia Kui, Tian Feng, Xu You, each bore the marks of long nights and hard decisions.

The generals stood like iron statues, Cao Ren and Cao Hong at the fore, Xu Chu looming like a silent mountain behind them. Xiahou Dun’s remaining eye burned with undimmed ferocity, while Xiahou Yuan’s fingers tapped absently against his scabbard.

Zhang He, Xu Huang, Li Dian, Yue Jin, Yu Jin, Zhang Ji, Zhang Xiu, Hu Che’er, warriors all, bound by loyalty and necessity.

Cao Cao sat at the head of the council table. His hair, once black as lacquer, now showed more gray than not. In his eyes burned a cold, furious fire, but beneath it flickered something rarer and more dangerous for a man like him, a sliver of bleak, incredulous despair.

The source of that despair lay in a single, concise report that had just been read aloud. Its words still seemed to hang in the air, poisoning it.

Yi Province surrendered. Han Dynasty dissolved. Liu Xie deceased. Full integration with Hengyuan immediate.

With a sudden, violent motion that made every man in the room flinch, Cao Cao slammed his open palm down on the heavy wooden table. The impact was a thunderclap in the stifling silence, sending scrolls jumping and a cup clattering to the floor. His breath came in short, ragged bursts, the anger radiating from him like heat from a forge.

For a heartbeat, no one spoke.

Then Xun Yu stepped forward.

”Your Majesty,” he said gently but firmly, ”please... calm yourself.”

Cao Cao’s fingers curled into the wood.

”Your physician warned us,” Xun Yu continued, meeting his ruler’s gaze without fear. ”Another episode could be fatal. None of us wish to see that day arrive prematurely.”

The reminder cut through the storm.

Cao Cao closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he drew a long breath, forcing the rage back behind layers of discipline forged over decades. ”...You are right,” he said hoarsely. ”Thank you, Wenruo.”

He straightened slowly, then looked around the room, eyes sweeping over every face.

”You have all heard the news,” Cao Cao said, his voice steadier now but edged with bitterness. ”Yi Province. Gone.

A low murmur rippled through the gathered men, though none dared interrupt.

”The Han Dynasty,” Cao Cao continued, lips curling into a sharp scoff, ”five centuries of imperial lineage... ended not on a battlefield, but on a palace floor.”

He laughed once, short, harsh, and humorless. ”Liu Xie... the boy emperor I once held in my palm... dies by accident in his own throne room. And the court of Han, under Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, and Meng Da, unanimously voted to dissolve the dynasty and hand everything to Lie Fan.”

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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