Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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(A/N: Don’t forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)

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Lie Fan didn’t hesitate. He dug his heels into Pangu’s sides, and the mighty stallion surged forward. Zhang Mancheng was a shadow at his right hand. Chao Bo, Chao Bai, and Huang Chao fell in just behind. Then came the thunder, the twenty thousand hooves of Zang Ba and Xu Rong’s elite cavalry, a rolling wave of steel and speed that poured through the gates after their emperor.

The ride through Tong Pass was a surreal blur. He passed scenes of mopping up violence, pockets of the Wei rearguard making their last stands in alleys and courtyards, being swiftly overwhelmed by jubilant Hengyuan infantry.

The air was thick with the cheers of victory, but Lie Fan had no time for them. His eyes were fixed on the western exit, on the cloud of dust he could already imagine on the horizon.

They burst out of the western gate like a flood from a broken dam. The open road stretched before them, and there, perhaps two or three miles ahead, was the tail end of Cao Cao’s retreating army, a vast, sprawling serpent of men, carts, and wagons, churning up a colossal dust cloud. It was a chaotic, vulnerable procession, not a fighting column.

”FORWARD!” Lie Fan’s cry was lost in the thunder of hooves, but his gesture, his halberd pointing like a lance at the distant chaos, was unmistakable.

The Hengyuan cavalry hit the rear of the Wei column like a scythe hitting ripe wheat. There was no organized resistance here, only panic.

These were not the chosen sacrificial warriors, these were supply train guards, weary infantry, non combatant scribes and cooks, all trying to flee.

The sight of the demonic emperor and twenty thousand fresh, ferocious horsemen emerging from the fortress they thought was still holding was the stuff of absolute nightmare.

Lie Fan led from the front, a harbinger of doom. Pangu was a force of nature, trampling men underfoot. Lie Fan’s halberd rose and fell with mechanical precision, each stroke ending a life.

His small entourage and the cavalry regiments fanned out, creating a widening zone of carnage. Wagons were overturned, supplies scattered, men cut down as they ran. It was less a battle and more a brutal culling of the slow and the unlucky.

The screams of terror and the sickening sounds of impact filled the air, mixing with the triumphant shouts of the cavalry.

They carved a deep, bloody groove into the retreating army, momentum carrying them forward. For several exhilarating, terrible minutes, they were an unstoppable force of annihilation, driving deep into the enemy’s rear, sowing chaos and death.

But as they pushed further, the character of their targets began to change. The stragglers and camp followers gave way to more organized units, rear guard infantry squares hastily forming, pockets of cavalry turning to face the threat.

The initial, paralyzing shock was wearing off. The Wei army, though in retreat, was still a massive beast, and its tail was beginning to lash out.

Lie Fan, his senses hyper alert, felt the shift. He saw banners of regular units ahead, not just broken mobs. He heard the distinct blare of Wei horns sounding an alarm, a call to rally.

The easy, slaughterhouse ride was over. They were now penetrating the actual military body of the retreat, and it was beginning to coagulate around the wound they were inflicting.

He reined in Pangu, the great horse rearing slightly. His guards and the nearest cavalry commanders pulled up around him, their faces flushed with adrenaline and bloodlust.

”YOUR MAJESTY!” Zang Ba shouted over the din, pointing ahead. ”Their rear guard is forming! We can break them!”

Lie Fan’s eyes, however, were looking beyond the immediate fight. He saw the vast, rolling dust cloud of the main Wei host stretching for miles ahead. He saw the terrain beginning to narrow slightly, funnelling towards a series of low hills.

A perfect place for an ambush, or for a disciplined army to turn and make a stand with its flanks secured.

The hunter’s instinct in him warred with the emperor’s caution. He had struck a devastating blow, crippling the retreat’s cohesion and morale, and buying precious time for his main infantry to organize and follow.

But to plunge deeper, with only twenty thousand cavalry, into the belly of an army that still numbered in the tens of thousands, led by commanders like Xiahou Dun and Zhang He who were doubtless trying to stabilize the situation... that was not a chase. That was a suicide charge into a potential trap.

He made the calculation in a heartbeat. The primary objective, preventing a clean, orderly retreat, had been achieved spectacularly. The secondary objective, capturing or killing Cao Cao, was now a gamble with poor odds and catastrophic potential downside.

”ENOUGH!” Lie Fan bellowed, his voice a command that cut through the battle rage. ”WE TURN BACK! SIGNAL THE DISENGAGEMENT!”

”Your Majesty?” Xu Rong asked, confused. The blood was up, the enemy was reeling.

”Look!” Lie Fan pointed with his halberd at the gathering resistance ahead and the narrowing terrain beyond. ”This is no longer a chase, it is a invitation into a meat grinder. Cao Cao would sacrifice some lf his army to bag me. We have bloodied them, broken their retreat’s spine. Now we consolidate. The pass is ours. Let our main army finish the march. We return to Tong Pass.”

The order was prudent, but it tasted of ashes to the cavalrymen who yearned for total annihilation. Yet, discipline held. Horns sounded the recall.

The Hengyuan cavalry, with practiced skill, began to extract themselves from the fray, cutting down the last of the immediate pursuers before wheeling about in a wide, sweeping turn.

Lie Fan took one last look at the chaotic, blood streaked road ahead, at the distant banners of Wei that were now rallying not in panic, but in defensive formation. He had stung the beast grievously, but he had not caught its head. Not today.

”Back to the pass,” he said to Zhang Mancheng, his voice flat. ”We secure our victory, and prepare for the next. Chang’an will not fall to a cavalry raid. It will fall to an empire.”

With that, he turned Pangu’s head east, towards the smoldering, conquered fortress of Tong Pass, leaving a trail of wreckage and terror in his wake, a potent message of what was to come.

The dust of the battlefield still clung to the air, a heavy, copper tasting mist that coated the throat and stung the eyes. Under Lie Fan’s lead, the twenty thousand cavalrymen, a sea of iron and grim determination, wheeled around. The thunder of their charge had been replaced by the rhythmic, disciplined trot of a withdrawal.

​Xu Rong and Zang Ba, veterans of countless skirmishes, kept the formation tight, their eyes scanning the flanks even as they pulled away. Behind them, Chao Bo, Chao Bai, and Huang Chao, moved in a protective, diamond shaped phalanx around the Emperor, while Zhang Mancheng rode practically stirrup to stirrup with Lie Fan, his hand never straying far from his weapon.

They were leaving the scene of a massacre, riding fast, putting distance between themselves and the rallying Wei army, their shadows stretching long across the blood soaked earth as they made for the safety of Tong Pass.

​Far behind them, amidst the churning chaos of the Wei rear guard, the dust began to settle just enough to reveal three distinct figures riding out from the main formation. They stopped at the crest of a small rise, overlooking the retreating Hengyuan forces.

​Xiahou Dun sat atop his warhorse, his single eye narrowing as he watched the distant banner of Lie Fan and his army fade into the haze. Beside him were his kinsman, the boisterous Xiahou Yuan, and the elegant, sharp witted Zhang He. The air around them was tense, filled with the sounds of wounded men and the shouting of sergeants trying to restore order to the shattered supply lines.

​Xiahou Dun let out a sharp, clicking tsk sound, shaking his head slowly. He watched the precise movement of Lie Fan’s cavalry, how they didn’t scatter, how they didn’t celebrate prematurely, but moved with the fluidity of a single organism.

​”The instinct of the God of War is still there, all right,” Xiahou Dun grunted, his voice gravelly and filled with a grudging, soldierly respect. He gestured with a gauntleted hand toward the narrowing valley ahead, the place where Lie Fan had abruptly turned back.

”He could sense it. He knew. If he had pushed just a mile deeper, just another thousand yards into that funnel... we would have had him. I had archers moving into the treeline. He sensed the danger waiting for him as clearly as a wolf smells a trap.”

​Zhang He, sitting tall and composed despite the chaos surrounding them, nodded in agreement. He adjusted his grip on his reins, his eyes thoughtful.

​”A man like Lie Fan would never lose that instinct,” Zhang He said softly, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the enemy had vanished. ”If anything, the weight of the crown has made it sharper. It is a terrifying thing to witness.”

​He paused, looking at the devastation Lie Fan had wrought in such a short time, the overturned carts, the scattered bodies.

​”Consider Lu Bu,” Zhang He continued, his voice taking on a philosophical tone. ”Lu Bu possesses all the arrogance in the world. He believes his martial might is absolute, that he can cut through any strategy with brute force. And then consider the tragic hero of the past, the Western Chu Overlord, Xiang Yu. He was a god among men, invincible in battle, yet he held a degree of arrogance that became his shackles. He looked down on his enemies, believed himself untouchable, and that pride was exactly what the Han Supreme Ancestor Liu Bang exploited to destroy him.”

Zhang He turned to look at Xiahou Dun, his expression grave. ”But we cannot do the same to Lie Fan. He should be more arrogant than Lu Bu. He has achieved things Lu Bu could only dream of, he has united the east, south, and conquered the north, and built an empire from nothing. He should be drunk on his own legend. But he never is. He does not have that fatal flaw. That is why he is so impossibly hard to defeat.”

​The three generals sat in silence for a moment, the weight of Zhang He’s assessment sinking in. The wind whistled through the gaps in their armor.

​Suddenly, Xiahou Yuan, who had been frowning in deep concentration, cleared his throat loudly. His booming voice shattered the philosophical mood.

​”So,” Xiahou Yuan began, looking between Zhang He and his cousin, a look of sudden realization on his broad face. ”What you’re saying is... the reason we are losing is because our own Emperor, Cao Cao, is an arrogant man? That because he’s so full of himself, that’s why he’s getting beaten by Lie Fan?”

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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