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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”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.”

The question struck the room with the force of a physical blow. The generals leaned forward, their eyes fixed on Cao Pi, starving for reassurance, desperate for a sliver of hope.

Xun Yu, Guo Jia, and the other five advisors immediately turned their gazes toward Cao Pi. Their expressions were carefully blank, but their eyes conveyed a clear, unified message, ’This is your moment. You must bear the weight. You must deliver the lie.’

Cao Pi felt a cold sweat break out across his back. He looked into the faces of these hardened killers, men who had followed his father through hell. To tell them the absolute truth, that Cao Cao was in a deep coma and might never wake, would shatter their morale instantly. The inner fortress would fall not to Hengyuan’s thunderous siege wepaons, but to internal despair and mutiny.

​Cao Pi closed his eyes for a brief second, summoning every ounce of his political training and royal bearing. He let out a long, weary sigh, perfectly mimicking the heavy burden of a devoted son.

​”His Imperial Majesty... is in the palace recuperating,” Cao Pi said, choosing his words with razor sharp precision. He looked back at Yu Jin, his gaze unwavering. ”The toll of this campaign has been exceptionally heavy. Imperial Father is currently recuperating. The physicians have mandated absolute bed rest after the sheer physical and mental exertion of what happened in Hongnong and Tong Pass. He pushed himself beyond the limits of mortal endurance to ensure our survival thus far.”

​Cao Pi stepped forward, placing his hands flat on the map table, leaning into the light of the oil lamps.

​”Because the Emperor requires immediate and uninterrupted rest to recover his strength, he cannot stand upon these walls tonight,” Cao Pi continued, his voice rising in volume, echoing with authority. ”Therefore, after much deliberation with the Master Advisors here... I will be replacing my Imperial Father to command the army. I will hold his banner. I will stand with you.”

​A shockwave rippled through the assembled generals. Eyes widened, and a low murmur of disbelief and profound alarm broke out across the room.

The Emperor was bedridden? The Second Prince was taking command? It was a tectonic shift in the power structure of Wei, occurring at the absolute worst possible moment.

​Xu Huang frowned deeply, his grip tightening on his axe. Gao Lan exchanged a nervous, uncertain glance with Zhang He. Cao Chun and Cao Xiu looked absolutely stunned.

​Xiahou Dun saw the hesitation. He saw the cracks forming in the absolute loyalty that bound the army together. He knew that if he did not act instantly, the generals might question the legitimacy of the order, demand to see the Emperor, and plunge the command structure into chaos.

​The Grand Marshal turned his solitary eye away from his nephew and looked directly at the line of civil advisors. He saw Xun Yu nodding slightly. He saw Guo Jia’s grim, unwavering stare. He saw the unified front of the greatest minds in Wei supporting this transition.

​Xiahou Dun’s internal calculus was swift and brutal. The situation was too dire to question protocol. His cousin, the Emperor, was incapacitated.

His first nephew, the rightful heir Cao Ang, was a prisoner of Lie Fan. The second nephew, Cao Pi, despite his youth and lack of supreme military command experience, was the only perfect, legitimate choice left to replace Cao Cao and keep the dynasty from fracturing.

​Xiahou Dun slammed his mailed fist onto the table. The loud CRACK silenced the murmuring generals instantly.

​”You have heard His Highness!” Xiahou Dun roared, his voice filled with absolute, terrifying conviction. He drew his sword and slammed the blade flat upon the map. ”The Emperor rests so that he may lead us to victory tomorrow! Today, the Prince leads! He carries the blood of the Dragon, and he carries the full, unyielding support of the Grand Marshal! Are there any here who question this?”

​Xiahou Dun glared around the room, daring any man to challenge him. His immense prestige, his decades of spilled blood, and his unwavering loyalty to the Cao family acted as a massive, stabilizing anchor.

​Seeing the fiercest, most senior commander in the army submit so completely to Cao Pi, the other generals felt their shock subside, replaced by a grim, fatalistic acceptance.

​One by one, Zhang He, Yu Jin, Xu Huang, and the rest dropped to one knee, bowing their heads toward the young prince.

​”We obey Your Highness!” they chorused, the chain of command reforging itself in the fires of desperation. ”We will defend the inner fortress to the last drop of our blood!”

​Cao Pi looked at his kneeling generals, then briefly met Xiahou Dun’s eye, offering a silent, profound nod of gratitude. The crisis of succession had been averted. Now, they only had to survive the end of the world.

​While the desperate remnants of the Wei Dynasty huddled within their final cage, preparing for a bloody, agonizing death, the atmosphere outside the inner fortress was one of supreme, calculating dominance.

​In the heart of the captured outer city, Lie Fan and his top advisors had commandeered a massive, sprawling estate that had once belonged to a wealthy Wei nobleman.

The building was a masterpiece of architecture, featuring a grand, sweeping balcony on the third floor that offered an unobstructed, commanding view of the grey, imposing walls of the Wei inner fortress just a few miles away.

​It was the perfect vantage point. It was the eye of the storm.

​As night fully enveloped Chang’an, the three massive armies of Hengyuan, the eastern vanguard, the southern zealots, and the western veterans, had completed their urban sweep.

Having successfully merged back into one unified, colossal entity under the singular leadership banner of Lie Fan, the troops were currently resting, eating hot rations, and watching the fires burn in the distance.

​Inside the opulent, lantern lit command post on the third floor, the mood was electric, yet highly disciplined.

​Lie Fan stood near the edge of the balcony, the cool night wind tugging at his cloak. Behind him, gathered around an intricately carved wooden table, were the architects of his inevitable victory, Sima Yi, Chen Deng, Zang Hong, Pang Tong, Xu Shu, Fa Zheng, and Meng Da.

​It was a staggering assembly of intellectual firepower. To have Sima Yi’s logistical genius, Pang Tong’s unconventional brilliance, and Fa Zheng’s ruthless pragmatism in the same room was an alignment of stars that signaled the doom of any enemy.

​They were deep in discussion, outlining the meticulous, grinding siege plan for the following morning.

​”We do not need to rush the inner walls, Your Majesty,” Fa Zheng was saying, tapping a wooden pointer against a hastily drawn map. ”Let them sit in their terror tonight. Tomorrow, we bring up the heavy cannons. We position them on the main thoroughfares, out of range of their archers, and we simply pound the inner gates into dust. It is a matter of mathematics now.”

​”Agreed Your Majesty,” Sima Yi added smoothly, his dark eyes reflecting the candlelight. ”Furthermore, I recommend we establish a continuous, rolling barrage. We do not give them a moment of silence. The psychological pressure of knowing they cannot strike back will break whatever fragile morale Xiahou Dun is currently holding together.”

​”We must also consider the possibility of a desperate sally,” Xu Shu noted cautiously. ”A cornered rat will bite. If Cao Cao feels the walls coming down, he may order a suicidal cavalry charge from the inner gates to try and break our artillery lines.”

​”Let them come,” Pang Tong laughed, a harsh, grating sound. ”If Cao Cao is foolish enough to leave his walls, Zhang Liao and Taishi Ci will gladly welcome him into the open.”

​As the advisors debated the finer points of artillery placement and counter cavalry tactics, a sudden, soft flutter of wings interrupted the conversation.

​From the dark, smoky sky above the city, a sleek, black raven swooped down. It glided gracefully through the open balcony doors and landed with a soft click of its talons squarely in the center of the strategy table. Attached to its leg with a red silken thread was a small, tightly rolled bamboo tube.

​The room fell silent. Everyone recognized the messenger. It was a direct dispatch from the Oriole, Lie Fan’s shadow network of spies and informants, operators who had successfully infiltrated even the deepest, most secure layers of the Wei capital before the siege had even begun.

​Lie Fan turned away from the balcony, his interest immediately piqued. He walked to the table, his heavy boots echoing on the polished wood. With practiced ease, he reached out, untied the silken thread, and extracted the tiny, tightly coiled piece of fine rice paper from the tube.

​He unrolled the paper, holding it up to the light of the nearest lantern.

​Sima Yi, Fa Zheng, and the others watched their Emperor intently, trying to read his expression. They saw his eyes scan the tiny, dense characters. They saw a slight furrow form on his brow, which rapidly dissolved into a look of genuine, profound surprise.

​And then, Lie Fan smiled.

​It was not a cruel, mocking smile, nor was it a smile of pure martial joy. It was a cold, satisfied smile of a man who realized the heavens themselves had just handed him the final, winning piece of the board.

​Lie Fan lowered the paper, letting out a low, rumbling chuckle that sent a shiver down the spines of the men in the room.

​”What is it, Your Majesty?” Sima Yi asked, unable to contain his curiosity. ”Has Cao Cao surrendered?”

​”No, Zhongda,” Lie Fan said, his voice carrying a rich, dark amusement. ”Cao Cao has not surrendered. Because Cao Cao is no longer in command.”

​He held the small piece of paper out, gesturing with it.

​”The Oriole reports from deep within the imperial palace,” Lie Fan announced, his words falling like thunderbolts in the quiet room. ”The stress of our bombardment, combined with the news of the Western Garrisons’ betrayal, was too much for his failing health. Cao Cao suffered a massive collapse in his council chamber this afternoon. He is currently completely bedridden, trapped in a coma, in critical condition. The Imperial Physicians fear he may never wake.”

​A collective gasp of shock, followed immediately by murmurs of intense, calculating excitement, erupted from the advisors. The mighty Cao Mengde, the brilliant, ruthless warlord who had dominated the northern plains for decades, had been felled not by a Hengyuan halberd, but by his own breaking body.

​”And with the Emperor incapacitated,” Lie Fan continued, his smile widening into a predatory grin, ”the mantle of leadership has fallen. Cao Ang is our prisoner. So, the burden has been passed to the next in line.”

​Lie Fan looked around the room, meeting the eyes of his brilliant strategists.

​”Gentlemen,” Lie Fan declared, his voice ringing with absolute, triumphant certainty. ”Tomorrow, we do not face the legendary Cao Cao. We face a terrified boy playing at war. Cao Pi has succeeded the mantle of his father to lead the army against us.”

​Fa Zheng let out a sharp, genuine laugh. ”Cao Pi? The poet prince? Facing the Black Dragon? It is a lamb attempting to command wolves.”

​”This changes the entire psychological landscape of tomorrow’s assault,” Sima Yi stated, his mind already spinning with new, devastating stratagems. ”The Wei generals may follow Xiahou Dun out of loyalty, but they will not bleed to the last man for Cao Pi. The foundations of their command structure are cracked. We merely need to apply pressure to the right faults.”

​”Exactly,” Lie Fan agreed, tossing the Oriole report onto the table. He turned back toward the balcony, looking out at the dark, imposing silhouette of the inner fortress.

​The great enemy, the shadow that had loomed over the land for so long, was fading into the dark. In his place stood a fractured court and an untested heir, trapped in a cage of stone.

​”Let them rest tonight,” Lie Fan whispered to the wind, his eyes burning with the promise of tomorrow. ”Let Cao Pi sit on his stolen throne and tremble. Because when the sun rises, we will bring the walls down around him.”

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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