Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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(A/N: I hope everyone give my new novel Skyrim a chance and added it to their library, also give power stones on Skyrim!)

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Zhang Liao holding a choke point leading to the inner keep’s stairs, Huang Zhong commanding a raised platform that served as a killing field for archers, and Taishi Ci guarding the entrance to a barracks complex that could serve as a staging ground for Wei reserves.

The Wei tactic of throwing bodies into the grinder faltered when those bodies met a legend who could carve through a dozen men in the time it took to blink.

Satisfied with the flow, Lie Fan executed a final, brutal sequence, a stab through a shield that pinned its bearer, a sideways cut that felled two more, and signaled a momentary disengagement.

Chao Bo, Chao Bai, and Huang Chao seamlessly flowed into the space he vacated, their own formidable skills creating a wall of whirling blades.

Lie Fan stepped back, allowing himself a few precious breaths. His two personal Yellow Ghost bodyguards, Zhang Mancheng and Bo Cai, closed in around him, their eyes scanning the chaotic fray for any threat that might target their resting sovereign.

The air was thick with the coppery stink of blood, the acrid bite of smoke, and the deafening cacophony of combat.

It was in this moment of calculated respite that his newly honed senses screamed a warning. It wasn’t the directed malice of a nearby swordsman, it was a colder, more impersonal danger, the hissed promise of physics and distance.

His head snapped up, his eyes not searching the melee around him, but the broken battlements and shadowed towers in the middle distance.

Thwump. Thwump. Thwump.

Three distinct, heavy vibrations in the air. Three massive ballista bolts, each as thick as a man’s arm and tipped with cold forged iron, were streaking towards him from different elevated positions.

They were not aimed at the mass of soldiers, they were a sniper’s volley, triangulated on the single, high value target that was the Hengyuan Emperor.

Lie Fan moved not with panic, but with the preternatural speed and awareness of his cultivation breakthrough. His halberd became a blur of dark steel. He didn’t dodge, he intercepted.

A sweeping parry sent the first bolt careening into a group of Wei soldiers with a sickening crunch. A sharp, upward strike deflected the second, sending it spiraling harmlessly into the sky.

The third he met head on, the halberd’s blade catching the bolt’s tip with a shriek of tortured metal, diverting its path so it slammed into the ground at his feet, burying itself halfway into the packed earth.

The impact vibrations ran up the haft of his weapon and through his arms, a jarring, numbing shock that made his teeth rattle. Even with his god like strength, the raw kinetic force of the massive projectiles was staggering. For a split second, his grip faltered, a tingling numbness spreading through his palms and forearms.

It was in that vulnerable, micro second of recovery that tragedy struck.

A fourth projectile, not a heavy bolt but a well aimed, powerful arrow from a master archer, found its mark. It wasn’t aimed at Lie Fan. It was aimed at the gap in his defense, at the loyal shadow who had moved instinctively to cover his momentarily stunned emperor.

The arrow, fired from a great distance with impossible accuracy and force, punched through the elite lamellar armor of the Yellow Ghost bodyguard, Bo Cai, as if it were parchment.

It struck with a wet, final thud. Bo Cai didn’t cry out. He simply stiffened, a look of profound surprise flashing in his eyes before they glazed over. He took one staggering step, then collapsed at Lie Fan’s feet.

Time seemed to slow. The roar of the battle faded to a distant hum. Lie Fan’s gaze dropped from the distant battlements to the man now dying on the ground before him. Bo Cai, who had been with him since the early, desperate days, whose loyalty was as much a part of the landscape of his life as the mountains of his homeland. A comrade. A brother in arms.

Then, his eyes, burning with a cold, volcanic fury, tracked the arrow’s path back to its source. Far across the chaotic courtyard, standing on a semi intact section of inner wall, a figure lowered a powerful, distinctive bow.

Even at that distance, Lie Fan recognized the proud, hawk like bearing of Xiahou Yuan. The Wei general met his gaze and, in a gesture of pure, defiant bravado, offered a grim, mocking smile, a predator acknowledging a rival, and celebrating a hit.

A white hot rage, purer and more personal than any strategic anger, threatened to consume Lie Fan. He wanted to charge across the battlefield, to tear through a thousand men to get his hands on Xiahou Yuan and repay the debt in blood and agony.

But the other surviving bodyguard, Zhang Mancheng, was already moving, a raw cry of grief and fury tearing from his throat as he saw his sworn brother fall. ”BO CAI!”

”Mancheng! HOLD!” Lie Fan’s voice, laced with the authority of a monarch and the pain of a friend, cracked like a whip. He grabbed Zhang Mancheng’s arm as he made to surge forward. ”Look at him! Look at where he stands! He is baiting you! He wants you to charge into that kill zone, where a hundred arrows and ballista bolts are waiting! Would you have me mourn two brothers today?”

Zhang Mancheng trembled, tears of fury and loss mixing with the grime on his face behind his mask. ”Your Majesty... he... Bo Cai... how can we let this stand? How can we not avenge him?”

Lie Fan knelt, ignoring the battle swirling around them, protected by Huang Chao and the others who had now formed a tighter ring. He opened the mask and closed Bo Cai’s sightless eyes with a gentle hand. The grief was a stone in his chest, heavy and real. But he was an emperor first. His emotions were a luxury he could not afford to spend recklessly.

He looked up at Zhang Mancheng, his voice dropping, low and intense. ”Zhang Mancheng. Bo Cai has gone ahead. He walks now in the Yellow Heaven we once dreamed of building on earth, a land of peace, without war or betrayal.”

He paused, the words costing him. ”It is a tragedy he will not see the unified land we will forge. But his death will not be wasted on a futile charge. The highest vengeance we can offer him is not the head of one general, but the crushing of the kingdom that bred this cowardly act. We will defeat Cao Cao. We will end this war. That is the pyre on which we will lay Bo Cai’s honor.”

The words were a cold balm, but they were truth. Zhang Mancheng, a soldier to his core, understood the hierarchy of vengeance. Personal rage yielded to the greater objective.

He swallowed hard, nodded, and saluted his fallen brother one last time. ”Let me take him back, Your Majesty. Let me prepare him for his journey to the Yellow Heaven. He should not lie here in the mud.”

”Go,” Lie Fan said, his voice softer now. ”See him honored. I will hold this ground.”

As Zhang Mancheng gently lifted Bo Cai’s body and began the careful, fighting retreat back towards the breaches, Lie Fan stood. The numbness in his arms was gone, replaced by a cold, focused energy. The personal loss was compartmentalized, transformed into fuel.

He turned to face the tide of battle, and in a voice that carried over the din, amplified by his inner power and raw emotion, he shouted, ”SOLDIERS OF HENGYUAN! HEAR ME!”

The fighting nearby stuttered for a moment as heads turned. ”One of our finest, a Yellow Ghost, a guardian of your emperor, has fallen! Not in fair combat, but to a coward’s arrow from the shadows! They believe they can stain our honor with treachery! They believe they can break our spirit by striking at my side!”

He raised his halberd, the blade catching the dull light, pointing it not at Xiahou Yuan, but at the heart of the Wei defense. ”I SAY THEY HAVE ONLY AWAKENED OUR FURY! FOR EVERY DROP OF HIS BLOOD SPILLED, WE WILL TAKE A GALLON OF THEIRS! FOR THE INSULT TO HIS PRESTIGE, WE WILL TEAR DOWN THEIR BANNERS AND TRAMPLE THEM IN THE DIRT! SHOW THESE COWARDS THE PRICE OF DISHONOR! FOR HENGYUAN! FOR BO CAI! NO MERCY! NO RETREAT! CRUSH THEM!”

The response was instantaneous and seismic. A roar erupted from the Hengyuan ranks, a wave of vengeful energy that rolled through the courtyard.

The sight of their emperor, standing tall after an assassination attempt, using his grief not to weaken them but to forge them into a sharper weapon, was the most potent morale tonic imaginable.

The advance, which had been methodical, became ferocious. The defenders, already buckling, now faced an enemy infused with a righteous, burning wrath.

Lie Fan returned to the front, not reckless, but terrible in focus. Each movement was measured, conserving strength for the long night he knew awaited.

He allowed himself one final thought for the archer on the wall. ’Xiahou Yuan... when this ends, your life will not be taken for this act, if you kneel and swear the oath. Talent should not be wasted, even when it draws blood from those loyal to me.’

As for Xiahou Yuan, watching from his perch, the triumphant smile died on his lips. He had sought to wound the enemy’s spirit by killing a prized guard. Instead, he had poured oil on a fire. He saw not despair in Lie Fan’s eyes, but a promise, a promise of utter, final defeat.

And in that moment, Xiahou Yuan felt the first cold trickle of doubt. When this ended, if he survived the storm he had just stirred, kneeling in loyalty might not be an option for forgiveness... it might be the only path to survival.

The calculus of the battle had shifted, not in meters gained, but in the terrifying, unified will of an army mourning one of its own.

Xiahou Yuan let out a low, frustrated tsk, the sound swallowed by the cacophony of renewed fighting below. The triumphant glee he’d felt moments before had curdled into a sour, anxious knot in his stomach.

He descended from his sniper’s perch, the powerful bow feeling suddenly heavy and useless in his hand. He found his brother, Xiahou Dun, standing in the relative shelter of a crumbling gatehouse, his single eye fixed on the slaughter in the courtyard with the grim focus of a man watching a flood he cannot stop.

Xiahou Dun didn’t turn as his brother approached. His voice was flat, devoid of reproach but full of a weary, prophetic certainty. ”I told you it wouldn’t work. I told you it would only make things worse. Now look.”

Below, the Hengyuan tide was no longer just advancing, it was pulsing with a new, vicious energy. The shouts of ”For the Emperor!” were a rhythmic chant that drove their strikes. Where before the Wei mass tactics had caused a slow, grinding stalemate, now they were being chewed through with a furious efficiency that was terrible to behold. The cost in Wei lives for every minute of delay had just skyrocketed.

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Name: Lie Fan

Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty

Age: 36 (203 AD)

Level: 16

Next Level: 462,000

Renown: 2325

Cultivation: Yin Yang Separation (level 11)

SP: 1,121,700

ATTRIBUTE POINTS

STR: 1,010 (+20)

VIT: 659 (+20)

AGI: 653 (+10)

INT: 691

CHR: 98

WIS: 569

WILL: 436

ATR Points: 0