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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He looked at his advisors, the smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. ”Gentlemen, we have just witnessed the collapse of Cao Cao’s last hope. Not by our hand, but by the simple, human desire to survive. It is a reminder that even the most loyal subjects will choose themselves over their lord when the choice is stark enough.

Chen Deng raised a practical concern. ”Your Majesty, this news also affects our logistics. If the western garrisons are no longer coming, we can afford to be more aggressive in our advance. We don’t need to leave as large a reserve to guard against a probing attack. We can concentrate more force against Chang’An.”

”Agreed,” Lie Fan said. ”Revise the supply plans accordingly. We march in three days, not five. I want the army at Chang’An’s gates before Cao Cao has time to fully prepare his defense.”

The advisors bowed, already mentally recalculating timetables and resource allocations. But Sima Yi lingered after the others had begun to disperse, his expression thoughtful.

”Your Majesty,” he said quietly, ”there is something else to consider. The League of Lords... they made this decision without any prompting from us. That means they are capable of independent strategic thought. They are not mere followers, they are leaders in their own right. When we eventually deal with them, we must remember that. They will not be easily fooled or cowed.”

Lie Fan met his gaze. ”I know, Zhongda. But they have also shown their weakness, they value survival over loyalty. That is a weakness we can exploit. Men who will abandon their emperor will also abandon each other when the pressure is sufficient.”

He paused. ”But you are right to be cautious. When this war is over, the northwest will require careful handling. For now, though, our focus remains on Chang’An. Let the League stew in its own juices. They will keep.”

As Sima Yi bowed and departed, Lie Fan stood alone in the hall for a moment, the scroll still in his hand. He looked at the map, at the vast territories now controlled by men who had chosen themselves over their lord, and he felt a strange, almost philosophical satisfaction.

Cao Cao had spent his life building alliances, cultivating loyalty, creating a system of mutual obligation. And now, at the moment of his greatest need, that system had crumbled, not because of Lie Fan’s armies, but because the men he trusted had decided that their own survival mattered more.

It was a lesson. A reminder that power, ultimately, rests not on oaths or promises, but on the cold calculus of self interest. Lie Fan had always known this. He had built his empire on the understanding that men follow strength, that loyalty is earned through victory, not demanded through titles. The League of Lords had just proven his philosophy correct.

He tucked the scroll into his sleeve and walked to the window, looking out at the conquered fortress, at the soldiers going about their duties, at the distant road that led west to Chang’An. Somewhere out there, Cao Cao was counting on reinforcements that would never come, unaware that his western army had declared itself independent.

Meanwhile, the sky over Chang’An was the color of bruised iron, heavy and suffocating, as the remnants of the once invincible Wei army dragged themselves through the city gates.

There was no triumphant fanfare, no shower of flower petals from the balconies, no cheering crowds thronging the avenues to welcome their Emperor home.

The citizens of the relocated capital, a city that had already seen too much strife, too many warlords, and too much blood in the past decades, stood in the alleys and behind shuttered windows, watching in a suffocating, fearful silence.

​They knew. Even without the official edicts, the people of Chang’An could read the truth written in the slumped shoulders of the infantrymen, in the shattered shields, and in the sheer, undeniable exhaustion etched into the faces of the cavalry.

The soldiers marched with a hollow, rhythmic thud, their armor thickly coated in the soot and pale ash of burning supply lines and scorched earth retreats. The banners of Wei, usually snapping proudly in the wind, hung limp and torn.

The situation was bleak. The eastern shield had shattered, and the Black Dragon of Hengyuan was coming for them all.

​At the heart of this weary procession was Cao Cao. The Emperor of Wei did not ride tall upon a warhorse today. Instead, his carriage carried him to the steps of the imperial palace, a sprawling complex that felt more like a gilded cage than a fortress in these dark hours.

​As Cao Cao stepped down from the carriage, his legs felt like lead. A sharp, stinging pain throbbed behind his eyes, a familiar and terrifying reminder of his own mortality. He reached out, his hand trembling imperceptibly, and found the arm of his second son, Cao Pi.

​Cao Pi was there instantly, his grip firm and supportive, helping his father ascend the great stone steps. In truth, Cao Cao’s fierce pride screamed at him to shake the boy off, he did not strictly need the physical assistance to walk, but the spiritual and mental exhaustion was so absolute that he allowed the support.

He leaned into his son, leaning on the next generation of the dynasty that was currently crumbling around him.

​Waiting for him in the grand foyer of the inner palace was a sea of rustling silk and anxious faces. Empress Ding, the matriarch of the inner court, stood at the forefront.

Beside her was Grand Concubine Bian, Cao Pi’s biological mother, along with the other ladies of the imperial harem. The air in the hall was thick with the scent of sandalwood incense, burning in a vain attempt to mask the sharp, metallic smell of war that clung to the returning men.

​Empress Ding stepped forward, her eyes wide with a mixture of relief and profound alarm. She took in the sight of her husband, the great warlord, the cunning poet, the unyielding Emperor, looking like a man who had aged ten years in the span of a single campaign.

The deep lines on his face were pronounced, his complexion was a sickly, ashen grey, and the fire that usually danced in his eyes was terrifyingly dim.

​”My Lord... Your Majesty,” Empress Ding said, her voice wavering as she reached out to touch his soot stained sleeve. ”You are home. But... your face. How is your condition? Tell me you have not been neglecting yourself. Have you followed what the imperial physicians ordered? They explicitly warned you not to overexert your mind and body!”

​Cao Cao opened his mouth, prepared to offer a gruff dismissal, to tell her that an Emperor does not have the luxury of rest when wolves are at the door. But before the words could leave his throat, a younger, sharper voice cut through the heavy air of the hall.

​”He has not, Imperial Mother,” Cao Pi said.

​Cao Cao shot a dark, warning glare at his son, but Cao Pi did not wither. Instead, the young prince stood taller, his face a mask of filial concern tinged with a desperate edge.

​”Imperial Mother,” Cao Pi continued, his voice ringing clearly in the quiet foyer, ”Imperial Father suffered a severe headache attack during the campaign. It was brought on by the immense stress of the campaign. The physicians... the physicians have informed me in private that his condition is dire. They said he cannot suffer another such attack, or... or Imperial Father’s life will be on the line.”

​A collective, horrified gasp echoed through the hall. Grand Concubine Bian covered her mouth with a trembling hand, tears immediately pooling in her eyes. The other concubines whispered prayers to the heavens, their faces paling in shock.

​”Silence!” Cao Cao barked, though the shout lacked its usual thunderous resonance, triggering a brief wince of pain across his temple. He turned fiercely toward Cao Pi. ”How dare you? How could you speak such blunt, unfiltered truth in this hall, frightening the women of this palace? Have you forgotten your place, son?”

​Cao Pi immediately lowered his head, accepting the admonishment, but he did not back down from his stance. He cupped his hands respectfully. ”I accept my punishment, Imperial Father. But I will not retract my words. Imperial Mother, my own mother, and the Madam Concubines, they are your family. They are the ones who share your private chambers. They must know the true peril of your condition.”

​He looked up, meeting his father’s furious gaze with a steady, mournful one. ”If they do not know the danger, how can they take proper care of you? How can they ensure you rest when you spend time in the inner court? I would rather face your wrath today than mourn your passing tomorrow because we hid the truth behind false comforts.”

​Cao Cao raised a trembling finger, pointing it squarely at Cao Pi’s chest. The audacity of the young man was infuriating, yet the cold logic of it was undeniable. He opened his mouth to berate his son further, to assert his invulnerability, when suddenly, a pair of soft but firm hands wrapped around his raised arm.

​It was Empress Ding. She gently pushed his pointing finger down, her eyes flashing with a fierce, protective light that she usually reserved for her children.

​”Stop this,” Empress Ding said, her voice steadying as she found her resolve. ”Stop admonishing the young man, my Lord. What he said is true, and it was necessary. We are your wives. We are your family. If the pillar of our sky is cracking, we have the right to know so we can help bear the weight.”

​Grand Concubine Bian stepped forward, dabbing her eyes with a silk handkerchief, nodding fervently in agreement. ”The Empress is right, Your Majesty. Cao Pi spoke out of deep filial piety. We must know the danger. We will ensure the physicians’ orders are strictly enforced within these walls.”

​Cao Cao looked at the women, then at his son. The anger drained out of him, replaced by a profound, crushing weariness. He let out a ragged breath and nodded slowly, conceding the battle.

​But as the initial shock of the Emperor’s failing health settled, Empress Ding’s eyes began to scan the retinue standing near the doorway. She looked past Cao Cao, past Cao Pi, searching the faces of the battered guards and the weary attendants. Her brow furrowed, a cold knot of dread beginning to form in the pit of her stomach.

​”Where is he?” Empress Ding asked, her voice suddenly sounding very small in the cavernous hall.

​Cao Cao froze. The heavy, oppressive silence that fell over the room was absolute. Even the crackle of the braziers seemed to dull.

​”Where is my son?” Empress Ding asked again, her voice rising in pitch, her eyes darting between Cao Cao and Cao Pi. ”Where is Cao Ang?”

​Cao Ang was not her biological child, he was born to Lady Liu, but Empress Ding had raised him as her own flesh and blood since his mother’s early passing. He was her pride, her joy, the noble and valiant eldest son who was meant to be the shining future of the Wei Dynasty.

​Cao Cao closed his eyes. The pain in his head spiked, a physical manifestation of the agony in his heart. Cao Pi lowered his head entirely, his gaze fixed firmly on the polished floorboards, unable to meet his adoptive mother’s eyes.

​Seeing their reaction, the bad premonition in Empress Ding’s chest bloomed into a suffocating terror. She stepped forward, grabbing the lapels of Cao Cao’s robes. ”My Lord! Tell me! Where is Zixiu? Where is my boy?”

​Cao Cao let out a huge, shuddering sigh. The great warlord, who had ordered the deaths of tens of thousands without blinking, could barely force the words past his lips.

​”He is gone,” Cao Cao whispered, his voice so low it was almost lost in the rustle of garments.

​”Gone?” Empress Ding’s voice trembled violently. ”What... what do you mean, gone? Dead? Is he dead?”

​”Captured,” Cao Cao said, his voice breaking. He forced his eyes open, looking into his wife’s terrified face. ”He has been captured by Lie Fan. The Hengyuan forces overran our rear guard at the pass. And it was not just him. Xu Chu... Cao Ren... Cao Hong. All of them. Taken by the enemy.”

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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