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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Xu Huang, seeing the Hengyuan soldiers swarming the control room out of the corner of his eye, let out a roar of absolute fury. He swung his great axe in a massive, horizontal arc, forcing Meng Huo and Yan Yan to step back, but it was too late.

The heavy iron chains within the gatehouse were severed. The massive wooden beams were lifted. With a sound like a dying giant, the western gates of Chang’an were pushed open from the outside, and the vast, one hundred and fifty thousand strong army of Fa Zheng flooded into the city.

Xu Huang and Gao Lan, realizing they were cut off and about to be swallowed by an ocean of enemies, broke off their duels, fighting a desperate, bloody retreat down the inner stairs, leaving the western wall to the conquerors.

With that, all three primary gates, the East, the South, and the West, had been violently forced open by the armies of Hengyuan. The impenetrable outer shell of Chang’An had been shattered in a single, apocalyptic afternoon.

​Deep within the city, high upon the reinforced stone battlements of the inner fortress, the final, heavily fortified ring of defense that protected the imperial palace itself, stood Xiahou Dun.

​The Grand General of Wei looked out over the sprawling, burning metropolis. The sky was thick with black smoke, and the distant, terrifying roar of hundreds of thousands of Hengyuan soldiers cheering their victory echoed through the streets.

He could see the black and gold banners of Lie Fan advancing like a rising tide, swallowing block after block, moving inexorably toward the center.

​The ’Hedgehog Plan’ had failed. The urban meat grinder they had envisioned required manpower they simply did not possess. To leave his remaining men scattered in the outer streets now would merely mean their piecemeal slaughter.

​Xiahou Dun closed his single eye, a profound, crushing weight settling onto his broad shoulders. He gripped the stone parapet until his fingers ached. The outer city was lost. There was only one tactical option left to prolong the survival of the Wei Dynasty.

​”Sound the retreat,” Xiahou Dun ordered, his voice heavy with the ashes of defeat. ”Signal all remaining outer commanders. Abandon the street barricades. Pull every surviving soldier, every general, every archer back behind the walls of the inner fortress. We make our final stand here.”

​The mournful, long, drawn out blast of the Wei retreat horns echoed across the burning city, a sound of absolute desperation.

​As the horns wailed, a breathless, blood spattered runner sprinted up the stone steps of the inner wall, dropping to one knee before Xiahou Dun.

​”Lord Marshal!” the soldier gasped, his chest heaving. ”A report from the eastern sector!”

​”Speak,” Xiahou Dun commanded, not taking his eye off the advancing Hengyuan tide.

​”It is General Xiahou Yuan, my Lord,” the runner said, his voice trembling. ”He... he has been shot. An arrow pierced his left shoulder, shattering the pauldron and striking deep into the bone. He fell from a watchtower.”

​Xiahou Dun whipped his head around, his single eye widening in sheer surprise and immediate, brotherly terror. ”Yuan? Shot? How is that possible? He was positioned deep within the secondary ring! He shouldn’t have been engaged in the melee!”

​”He... he wasn’t in the melee, Lord Marshal,” the soldier explained nervously, swallowing hard. ”According to the men of his own unit who carried him back... General Xiahou Yuan engaged in a direct archery duel. Across the battlefield.”

​”A duel?” Xiahou Dun’s brow furrowed in disbelief. ”With whom?”

​”With the old Hengyuan general, my Lord. With Huang Zhong.”

​Xiahou Dun stared at the runner for a long, silent moment. The absurdity, the sheer, arrogant foolishness of his younger brother engaging the most legendary archer on the continent in a sniper duel amidst a collapsing siege, was staggering.

​Xiahou Dun let out a long, heavy sigh, the sound carrying a mixture of profound exasperation and deep, protective relief that his brother was not dead. He rubbed his temple, feeling the onset of a headache that rivaled his Emperor’s.

​”That brash, thick headed fool,” Xiahou Dun muttered under his breath. He turned his attention back to the runner. ”Where is he now?”

​”He has been carried to the medical pavilion within the palace grounds, my Lord. The physicians are attempting to extract the arrowhead now. He is unconscious from the pain and the fall.”

​”Make sure he is heavily guarded,” Xiahou Dun ordered strictly. ”Tell the physicians to drug him with poppy wine if they have to. Keep him tied to that bed. He is explicitly forbidden from stepping foot outside the medical pavilion until I personally order it. He is not to go out to battle again. We cannot afford to lose him to his own pride.”

​”Yes, Lord Marshal!” The runner bowed deeply and scrambled back down the stairs to deliver the command.

​Xiahou Dun turned back to look at the burning city. The remnants of his shattered army were pouring through the gates of the inner fortress, terrified, bleeding, and broken. They were locking themselves inside the final cage, waiting for the dragon to arrive.

​Meanwhile, on the outside, standing triumphantly atop the conquered eastern wall of Chang’An, Lie Fan breathed in the scent of victory.

​The wind whipped his dark cloak around his heavily armored frame. His heavenly halberd, still stained with the blood of Wei’s defenders, rested casually against his shoulder.

He looked down into the city below, watching the chaotic, panicked retreat of the Wei soldiers as they desperately sprinted toward the towering grey walls of the inner fortress in the distance.

​Behind them, pouring through the shattered, splintered remains of the great eastern gate, the Black Dragon army entered Chang’An. It was an awe inspiring, terrifying sight, a seemingly endless river of disciplined black iron, marching to the rhythmic beating of war drums, their boots striking the ancient cobblestones with the finality of an executioner’s gavel.

​Lie Fan was not alone in his triumph. Standing in a semi circle around him, their armor dented and bloodied but their spirits soaring, were his most elite vanguard commanders.

​Zhang Liao stood with his hands resting on his hips, a fierce, satisfied grin illuminating his face. Dian Wei loomed like a silent mountain of muscle, his massive iron halberds resting on the stone parapet.

Taishi Ci stood quietly, his breathing steady, his cold eyes already scanning the inner city for new threats. And Huang Zhong stood tall, casually adjusting the string of his great bow, a look of profound, veteran satisfaction etched into his deeply lined face.

​Lie Fan looked at these men, some of the pillars upon which he had built his empire, and felt a deep, resonant surge of pride. They had done the impossible. They had cracked the impenetrable shell of the ancient capital in a matter of hours.

​But the Emperor of Hengyuan knew that a cornered beast was the most dangerous. Cao Cao was still alive, trapped within the inner fortress, and the labyrinthine streets of Chang’An still hid thousands of desperate, scattered defenders.

​Lie Fan turned away from the vista of the inner city and faced his generals. His expression hardened, the brief moment of celebration entirely replaced by the cold, calculating focus of the supreme commander.

​”The outer walls are ours, but the city is not yet secure,” Lie Fan declared, his voice carrying the absolute authority of the throne. ”Wei’s army is broken, but stragglers, ambushers, and desperate loyalists will still hide in the alleys and the civilian districts.”

​He pointed his halberd toward the sprawling urban maze below.

​”Send riders to Fa Zheng on the west and Zhang Wei on the south,” Lie Fan commanded, his eyes meeting Zhang Liao’s. ”Wenyuan, you will coordinate the eastern sector. I want the entire army to advance systematically. Block by block, street by street. Clear the entire outer city of Chang’An. Disarm any remaining Wei soldiers, secure the granaries, and establish martial law over the civilian populace. Show mercy to those who surrender, but show absolute, merciless destruction to any who raise a blade against our banners.”

​Lie Fan turned his gaze back toward the distant, imposing walls of the inner fortress, where the banners of Cao Cao still fluttered defiantly in the smoke filled sky.

​”Secure our perimeter,” Lie Fan finished, his voice dropping to a low, lethal rumble that promised the end of an era. ”Cleanse the streets. We will give the men the night to consolidate their positions and rest their sword arms. Because tomorrow... tomorrow we surround the inner fortress. And we finish the Wei Dynasty forever.”

The air atop the eastern wall was thick with the scent of victory, blood, and burning timber. As Lie Fan’s chilling proclamation hung in the air, Zhang Liao wasted no time. The ’Wolf of Hengyuan’ offered a crisp, perfectly executed salute, his armored fist striking his breastplate with a resounding clang.

​”It shall be done, Your Majesty,” Zhang Liao affirmed, his voice carrying the iron certainty of a seasoned commander.

​He immediately pivoted, his heavy cavalry boots crunching over the shattered masonry, and began barking orders to his aides.

​”You!” Zhang Liao pointed a gauntleted finger at a pair of swift looking couriers whose horses waited near the breach. ”Ride west! Find Master Fa Zheng and General Zhang Ren. Tell them the Emperor commands a systematic sweep of the western districts. Block by block. Disarm stragglers, secure the grain, protect the populace.”

​He turned to the second courier. ”You! Ride south! Find General Zhang Wei. Give him the same edict for the southern sector. Tell them we tighten the noose tonight. Go!”

​The riders scrambled onto their mounts, spurring their horses down the cleared sections of the wall and into the chaotic streets below, their black banners snapping in the smoky wind.

​Zhang Liao then turned his attention to the thousands of Hengyuan infantrymen currently pouring through the ruined eastern gate like a dark, unstoppable river. He drew his heavy saber, raising it high so it caught the light of the burning buildings.

​”Commanders of the Vanguard!” Zhang Liao roared, his voice echoing off the stone facades of the ancient buildings. ”Form ranks! We advance not as a mob, but as the Emperor’s law! First Division, secure the main thoroughfare! Second Division, sweep the northern alleys! Third Division, take the granaries near the eastern market! Show the people of Chang’An that Hengyuan brings order, not slaughter! But if any Wei dog raises steel... cut them down without hesitation! Move!”

​The response was immediate. The chaotic flood of soldiers instantly coalesced into disciplined, terrifyingly efficient blocks of infantry. They moved into the city, their shields locked, their spears leveled, transforming from an invading horde into a systematic occupying force.

​Miles away, the western sectors of Chang’An were a scene of disorganized panic. The Wei defenders, having lost their commanders in the brutal melee at the gatehouse, were routing through the narrow streets, discarding their weapons and armor in a desperate bid to outrun the Shu veterans.

​Fa Zheng stood atop a captured Wei barricade, surveying the chaos with a cold, analytical eye. Beside him, Meng Da was directing the flow of their own troops, trying to maintain cohesion in the labyrinthine urban environment.

​”They are broken,” Fa Zheng murmured, adjusting his robes. ”But a broken army in a city this size is a dangerous, unpredictable beast. They will hide. They will set fires.”

​At that moment, the rapid clatter of hooves announced the arrival of Zhang Liao’s courier. The rider pulled his horse to a sliding halt, the beast foaming at the mouth, and quickly dismounted, dropping to one knee before Fa Zheng.

​”Master Fa!” the courier gasped, holding out a sealed wooden tally. ”Orders from the Emperor! The eastern gate is secure. His Majesty commands a systematic sweep. Block by block. We are to disarm all remaining Wei soldiers, secure the granaries, and establish martial law. We must show mercy to the populace.”

​Fa Zheng took the tally, a thin, satisfied smile touching his lips. It was exactly the strategic move he had anticipated.

​”Excellent,” Fa Zheng said, his voice crisp. He turned to Meng Huo, who was currently wiping the blood of a Wei captain from his spiked maces. ”King Meng Huo! Restrain your warriors! The time for mindless slaughter is over. We are now the law in this city.”

​Meng Huo grunted, looking slightly disappointed but nodding his massive head. ”If the Emperor commands it, we will herd them like sheep instead of butchering them like pigs.”

​Fa Zheng turned to his Shu generals. ”General Yan Yan, General Zhang Ren. Deploy your men in grid formations. I want every house checked, every alley sealed. If a Wei soldier drops his sword, bind his hands and send him to the rear. If he runs, shoot him in the leg. If he fights, kill him. But touch not a single hair on the heads of the civilians. If I hear of any looting, I will personally execute the offender.”

​Simultaneously, on the southern edge of the city, the fanatical infantry of Hanzhong were chanting prayers of victory amidst the smoking ruins of the southern gate.

​Zhang Wei stood near the shattered control room, his chest heaving, his sword dripping. He had lost many men today, but they had broken through.

​The courier from the east found him organizing the wounded.

​”General Zhang!” the rider called out, presenting the Emperor’s edict. ”Orders from His Majesty! The outer walls have fallen. We are to sweep the city, secure the food stores, and establish peaceful martial law. Mercy for the surrendered, death for the defiant.”

​Zhang Wei wiped the sweat from his brow and nodded solemnly. ”The Celestial Master teaches that even in war, we must seek harmony when the immediate danger has passed. The Emperor’s will aligns with the heavens.”

​He turned to his lieutenants. ”Spread the word! We march block by block! Offer water to the wounded, regardless of their banners. Secure the grain for the people. Let the citizens of Chang’an see that we are not the demons Cao Cao claimed us to be!”

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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