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 directly at the seven brilliant men standing before him. ”But hear me clearly. I cannot do this alone. The situation is too dire. The enemy is too strong. I ask... no, I demand... that every single one of you present pledges your absolute intellect and effort to help me handle this crisis. We will fight for every stone of this inner fortress.”

Xun Yu immediately dropped to his knees, bowing deeply. ”My life and my mind are yours to command, Your Highness.”

One by one, Guo Jia, Cheng Yu, Tian Feng, Xi Zhicai, Jia Kui, and even the trembling Xu You followed suit, dropping to their knees and pledging their fealty to the new, desperate master of the crumbling dynasty.

​”Then let us not waste another moment,” Cao Pi commanded, turning on his heel. ”We go to the inner fortress wall. We join Marshal Xiahou Dun. We show the men that the House of Cao still stands.”

​Cao Pi strode out of the opulent bedchamber, followed immediately by the seven advisors, their robes swishing urgently as they hurried toward the final line of defense, leaving the quiet of the sickroom behind.

​As the heavy oak doors clicked shut, the chamber was plunged back into a suffocating silence, broken only by the ragged breathing of the dying warlord.

​Grand Concubine Bian remained sitting on the edge of the bed. She had not moved, had not spoken during the exchange of power. She simply gripped Cao Cao’s cold hand tighter.

​She leaned down, pressing her tear-stained cheek against his ear, her voice a desperate, broken whisper.

​”Wake up, my Lord,” she pleaded, her tears soaking his hair. ”Please, wake up. Pi has taken the mantle, but he is just a boy playing at war against monsters. The situation has become too dire. They are at the gates of our home. We need you to pull through. Only you can save us. Only you can frighten the Black Dragon away.”

​She waited, holding her breath, praying for a twitch of his hand, a flutter of his eyelids, a booming command to rise. But there was no response. Cao Cao remained lost in the dark, while his empire burned to ash around him.

The transition from the suffocating, incense choked air of the Emperor’s sickroom to the cool, ash laden wind of the palace courtyards was a jarring shock to the senses.

Cao Pi stepped out from the inner sanctum, his heart hammering a frantic, terrifying rhythm against his ribs. He had just claimed the mantle of the Wei Dynasty. It was a phantom crown, weightless yet unimaginably heavy, pressing down upon his young shoulders.

​Behind him, moving with the synchronized, solemn grace of pallbearers, followed by Xun Yu, Guo Jia, Xi Zhicai, Jia Kui, Cheng Yu, Tian Feng, and Xu You. They did not speak.

The gravity of their treasonous necessity, elevating a prince while the Emperor still lived, bound them in a tight, conspiratorial silence. They hurried across the sprawling palace grounds, their heavy silk robes swishing urgently against the polished stone pathways.

​The sun had finally begun to dip below the jagged peaks of the western mountains. The sky over Chang’An was a bruised, apocalyptic canvas of deep purples, fiery oranges, and the thick, suffocating black smoke rising from the conquered outer city. It was evening, and the twilight brought a sinister, deceptive calm to the ancient capital.

​They hurried toward the inner fortress wall, the final, towering ring of heavily reinforced masonry that separated the imperial palace from the sprawling urban labyrinth now occupied by the enemy. As Cao Pi and his retinue ascended the steep, torch lit stone stairs leading to the battlements, the sheer scale of their desperation became apparent.

​The inner fortress wall was not currently under active siege by the Hengyuan Army. The deafening roar of cannons and the shrieking of rockets had ceased for the day. Yet, the Wei soldiers stationed across the parapets remained in a state of hyper vigilant, terrified alertness.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, their knuckles white as they gripped their spears, staring out into the darkening city below, waiting for monsters to emerge from the shadows. The silence of the enemy was somehow more terrifying than their war drums.

​Cao Pi pushed through the heavy, iron reinforced oak doors of the central command room situated atop the main gatehouse.

​The room was vast, dominated by a massive, sand carved topographical map of Chang’An and its surrounding topography. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, old blood, and the sharp tang of cheap wine. The flickering light of dozens of oil lamps cast long, dancing shadows against the walls.

​Gathered around the map was the surviving martial heart of the Wei Dynasty. When Cao Pi entered, followed closely by the legendary advisors, the low murmur of desperate strategic planning instantly ceased.

​Standing at the head of the table was Xiahou Dun, the Grand Marshal. His armor was battered, his singular eye burning with a mixture of exhaustion and unyielding defiance. Arrayed alongside him were the finest, most lethal commanders Cao Cao had ever elevated, Zhang He, Yu Jin, Xu Huang, and Gao Lan.

​Standing shoulder to shoulder with them were the fierce cavalry commanders, Cao Chun and Cao Xiu, their faces pale beneath layers of soot. Further down the table stood Pang De, Li Tong, Zhang Ji and Zhang Xiu, and Hu Che’er.

​This assembly represented what remained of the top ranking generals inside the Wei Army. They were battered, they had been pushed to the very brink of their physical and mental endurance, but they were not yet broken.

​As one, the twelve generals turned away from the map. Seeing the Second Prince and the entire brain trust of the civil administration entering the martial domain, they immediately brought their hands together, cupped their fists, and bowed deeply.

​”We greet Your Highness,” the generals chorused, their voices a mixture of deep respect and underlying anxiety. The absence of the Emperor at the head of this procession was a glaring, terrifying omission.

​Cao Pi stepped up to the edge of the map table, forcing his posture to remain rigid, channeling the imperial authority he had watched his father wield for years.

​”Be at ease, Generals,” Cao Pi commanded, his voice steady, betraying none of the terror that gnawed at his insides. He gestured for them to stand upright. ”There is no time for formalities tonight. We are standing on the edge of a blade. Grand Marshal Xiahou, tell me plainly. What is the recent situation? How far have they pushed?”

​Xiahou Dun straightened, his solitary eye locking onto his nephew. He let out a slow, gravelly exhalation that sounded like grinding stones.

​”The situation is dire, Your Highness. Beyond dire,” Xiahou Dun reported, his voice devoid of any comforting illusions. He pointed a scarred finger down at the sand map. ”The Hengyuan dogs have successfully breached into the outer city through all three primary gates. The east, the south, and the west are lost to us. They are currently fanning out, consolidating their control over the entire outer perimeter.”

​Xiahou Dun slammed his fist softly onto the wooden edge of the table. ”The active siege has ended for today, but do not mistake their pause for mercy or exhaustion. The Hengyuan forces are moving with terrifying discipline. Our scouts report that they are not looting. They are not burning the civilian districts. Instead, they are distributing grain, securing the thoroughfares, and actively winning the hearts of the people in the outer city. They are establishing a peaceful martial law.”

​”They are digging their roots into our soil,” Guo Jia observed quietly, stepping up beside Cao Pi. The brilliant strategist coughed softly into his sleeve. ”A brilliant, devastating maneuver. By showing mercy to the populace, Lie Fan ensures he will face no civilian uprisings to disrupt his supply lines. He is pacifying our home before he has even fully conquered it.”

​”Exactly,” Xiahou Dun agreed grimly. ”And while they pacify the streets, they are preparing for tomorrow’s siege. They are using the cleared avenues to bring their heavy siege engines, the thunder engines, the fire arrows machine, the massive trebuchets, inside the city walls. By tomorrow morning, they will have their artillery positioned directly at the base of this inner fortress.”

​Cao Pi listened intently, his face a mask of solemn understanding. He nodded his head slowly, absorbing the catastrophic tactical reality. He turned his gaze to Guo Jia and Xi Zhicai, seeking their validation.

​”The Grand Marshal’s evaluation is flawless, Your Highness,” Xi Zhicai confirmed, his cynical eyes scanning the map. ”We are entirely boxed in. The outer city is a staging ground for our execution.”

​”Given this reality,” Guo Jia added, turning his attention back to the military men, ”what is the defensive plan that you and the generals present have come up with to hold these inner walls?”

​Xiahou Dun took a deep breath, pointing to various choke points along the inner fortress schematics. ”We have pulled every surviving man back behind this wall. The gates have been barricaded with stone and iron from the inside. We have concentrated our archers on the highest towers to suppress their artillery crews, and we are preparing vats of boiling oil and pitch along the primary walkways. We will fight a war of pure attrition. If they want this fortress, they will have to climb over a mountain of their own dead to take it.”

​As Xiahou Dun continued to detail the gruesome mechanics of their final, desperate defensive strategy, Cao Pi’s eyes swept across the faces of the assembled commanders. He recognized the hardened veterans, the loyal kinsmen, the brilliant tacticians. But as he mentally cataloged the room, a glaring absence suddenly registered in his mind.

​He held up a hand, interrupting Xiahou Dun’s explanation.

​”Uncle,” Cao Pi said, looking directly at the Grand Marshal. ”Where is General Xiahou Yuan? Why is Uncle Miaocai not present at this council?”

​A heavy, uncomfortable silence descended upon the command room. The generals shifted awkwardly. Xiahou Dun’s face darkened, and he let out a long, heavy sigh that seemed to age him another five years.

​”He... he is in the medical pavilion, Your Highness,” Xiahou Dun admitted, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. ”He got injured during the breach.”

​”Injured?” Cao Pi frowned. ”How? I was told the secondary ring was not engaged in heavy melee before the retreat.”

​”He was not engaged in melee, Your Highness,” Xiahou Dun replied, his jaw tight with barely suppressed frustration. ”He was shot in the shoulder. It was... an archery duel. With Huang Zhong. On the eastern gate.”

​Xun Yu, who had been listening quietly, closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. The Prefect of the Masters of Writing let out a sharp, disapproving sound.

​”General Xiahou Yuan is far too brash for his own good,” Xun Yu reprimanded coldly. ”To willingly enter a solitary archery duel with a monster like Huang Zhong in the midst of a collapsing siege... it is a reckless abandonment of command. We need generals holding the line, not seeking personal glory.”

​Xiahou Dun, usually quick to defend his kin, offered no argument. He simply nodded his head in grim agreement. ”You are right, Master Xun. It was an act of foolish pride. I have confined him to his bed under heavy guard. He will not step foot on these walls again until he learns the difference between a duel and a war.”

​The room absorbed the news of Xiahou Yuan’s incapacitation, adding another layer of gloom to an already despairing atmosphere.

​The discussion of the defensive plans resumed, with Zhang He and Yu Jin outlining the deployment of the heavy infantry reserves to reinforce the structurally weaker sections of the inner wall. For an hour, the men debated angles of fire, the rationing of arrows, and the placement of the remaining ballistae.

​But there was a specter haunting the room, a question that every general was thinking but was too afraid to voice. It hung over the map table like a guillotine blade.

​Finally, it was Yu Jin, ever the pragmatic and disciplined soldier, who broke the unspoken taboo.

​Yu Jin stepped forward, his armor clinking softly. He bowed his head respectfully toward Cao Pi, but his eyes were searching.

​”Your Highness,” Yu Jin began, his voice steady but carrying a profound, desperate weight. ”The plans are set. The men are in position. But... we need to know. Where is His Imperial Majesty? Is his condition okay now? We need the Emperor’s presence to steady the men. They need to know that the Heavens have not abandoned Wei.”

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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