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 leaned his head back against the silk cushions, closing his eyes as the warm afternoon sun washed over his face. The ghosts of Chang’An, the dying pleas of Cao Cao, and the looming threat of the western lords felt very, very far away.

The warm, golden afternoon sun slowly melted into a deep, bruised twilight, painting the tranquil courtyards of the Harem Palace in rich hues of violet and amber. The rest of the day passed by with Lie Fan completely immersed in the profound, simple sanctuary of his family.

​For these few precious hours, the Emperor of the newly unified central plains was allowed to simply be a man. He pushed the highly energetic Xuanxuan on a silk-roped swing beneath the ancient, weeping willow trees, his deep laughter mingling with the boy’s delighted shrieks.

He sat cross legged on the plush woven rugs, patiently holding the one year old Mumu while listening to the elder Yaoyao expertly pluck the strings of a guqin alongside the scholarly Cai Wenji, their harmonious music washing over the room like a cool, cleansing river.

He shared quiet, knowing smiles with Empress Ying Yue, Diao Chan, Lu Lingqi, and Zhen Ji as they watched their legacy play and bond in absolute safety.

​No couriers interrupted them. No breathless generals burst into the room asking for deployment orders. No spymasters whispered dark secrets of treason in his ear.

It was a time of pure, unstructured, and desperately needed familial peace. When night finally fell in earnest, and the younger children had been coaxed into their beds by the gentle hands of the imperial maids, a heavy, contented silence settled over the imperial quarters.

​Dawn broke crisp and cool over the sprawling capital of Xiapi. The sky was a pale, pearlescent grey, the last stubborn stars fading against the encroaching light, when Lie Fan opened his eyes.

​He did not linger in the warmth of the heavy silk blankets. The campaign was formally over, but the colossal, terrifying machinery of the empire never slept.

Beside him, Empress Ying Yue breathed softly, her face relaxed in deep, untroubled slumber, her dark hair spilling across the silk pillows. Moving with a practiced, silent grace born of years sleeping in military encampments, Lie Fan slipped from the bed.

​He bypassed the heavy, black iron armor of the conqueror. Today, he dressed himself in the formal, structured robes of state administration, deep, midnight-black silk woven with intricate, shimmering golden dragons that coiled fiercely around his broad shoulders and chest, fastened at the waist with a wide, unadorned jade belt.

He paused at the edge of the bed, leaning down to press a tender, lingering kiss against Ying Yue’s forehead. She stirred slightly, a faint, subconscious smile touching her lips, but she remained asleep in the safety of his shadow.

​Leaving the quiet, fragrant intimacy of his private quarters, Lie Fan stepped out into the crisp, biting morning air of the palace corridors. The grand estate was just beginning to stir, Imperial Maids and maids moving with silent efficiency to light the morning braziers.

Rather than heading immediately to the Great Hall or his administrative offices, Lie Fan took a deliberate, purposeful detour toward the heavily fortified barracks located in the eastern wing of the inner palace.

​He was heading to the private quarters of his Yellow Ghost Bodyguards.

​As he approached the heavy, iron banded wooden doors of their compound, the usual sharp, fiercely disciplined energy of the area felt noticeably muted. It was replaced by a heavy, suffocating pall that hung in the air like damp smoke.

When Lie Fan pushed the heavy doors open and stepped into the main common room, he found the entirety of his most elite, fanatically loyal protectors gathered.

​Liu Pi, Zhang Mancheng, Zhao Hong, Gong Du, He Yi, Huang Shao, Guan Hai, Zhou Cang, and Pei Yuan Shao were all present.

​These were not just guards, these were men who had bled beside him, starved beside him, and killed for him since the chaotic, desperate days of the Yellow Turban Rebellion.

They had traded their ragged yellow bandanas for imperial black and gold, rising from hunted rebels to the most feared protectors in the continent, but the fundamental, unbreakable bond of brotherhood forged in those early fires remained their absolute core.

​Today, however, that brotherhood was steeped in a dark, suffocating mourning.

​They sat around the long, scarred wooden tables in a somber, brooding silence. Zhang Mancheng, who had returned with Lie Fan from the western front, had spent the night delivering the heavy, agonizing news to those who had stayed behind to guard the capital.

He had recounted the brutal reality of the western campaign, culminating in the tragic death of their brother, Bo Cai.

​He told them of the brutal melee, of Bo Cai’s unyielding courage, and of the solemn fire burial held on the blood soaked battlefield.

He spoke of the flames consuming a warrior of the old days, and how his ashes had been carefully, reverently collected in a sealed jade urn, brought all the way back across the continent to be given to his grieving widow and children here in Xiapi.

​Upon seeing the Emperor enter the room, the heavy, iron-shod boots of the bodyguards scraped loudly against the floorboards. Conditioned by decades of absolute discipline, they all instinctively moved to stand, to cup their fists and offer the imperial salute.

​Lie Fan raised a hand immediately, his expression softening into a look of profound, shared grief.

​”Stay down,” Lie Fan commanded softly, his voice carrying no imperial edge, only the weary sorrow of a commander who had lost too many friends. ”Keep your seats, my brothers.”

​He walked slowly into the center of the room, the golden dragons on his robes catching the dim light of the morning lanterns. He looked at the hardened, scarred faces of the men who had shielded his back for decades.

Some had eyes red and swollen with unshed tears, others stared blankly at the wooden grain of the tables, their jaws clenched so tight the muscles in their necks bulged.

​”I know the terrible weight that sits upon your shoulders this morning,” Lie Fan began, his voice a low, resonant baritone that filled the quiet barracks, commanding their absolute attention. ”Zhang Mancheng has told you of Bo Cai’s fate. He has told you how our brother fell.”

​Lie Fan placed his hands behind his back, his gaze sweeping over each of them, making deliberate eye contact with Liu Pi, then Guan Hai, then Zhou Cang.

​”Bo Cai was a man who swung his blade with the ferocity of a starving tiger,” Lie Fan said, his voice thickening with emotion. ”He was a man who believed in the dream of a better, fairer world when we were all just desperate rebels fighting in the mud, hunted like dogs by the Han. He followed me when I had nothing but a halberd and a vision. And I tell you this, he did not die a meaningless death on some forgotten, dusty western frontier.”

​Lie Fan took a step closer to the tables, his presence acting as a gravitational pull for their grief.

​”Bo Cai died carving the path for the absolute unification of this realm,” Lie Fan declared, his voice rising, infusing the room with a fierce, undeniable pride. ”He gave his life to protect the vanguard, to ensure that the Black Dragon could break the impenetrable walls of Chang’An and shatter the Wei Dynasty forever. His ashes have returned home to his family, yes. But his spirit... his spirit has ascended to a higher plane.”

​Lie Fan paused, invoking a concept that resonated in the deepest, most fundamental core of their shared history.

​”The old dogmas of our youth may have faded,” Lie Fan said, his eyes burning with conviction. ”But I tell you this with absolute certainty, Bo Cai is now living in the Yellow Heaven above. He is looking down upon us right now, watching over the magnificent empire he helped build with his own two hands, and he is smiling at the peace his blood has bought.”

​The mention of the ’Yellow Heaven’, the sacred, foundational promise that had originally bound them all together in rebellion, acted like a physical jolt.

Several of the men sat up straighter. The suffocating, paralyzing grief in the room seemed to lift slightly, pierced by a fierce, swelling pride in their fallen comrade’s ultimate destiny.

​”His sacrifice will never, ever be relegated to a footnote of this campaign,” Lie Fan promised, his voice ringing with absolute, unshakable imperial authority. ”I give you my word as your brother in arms, and as your Emperor. In the coming Grand Imperial Court meeting, when the ledgers of merit are opened before the entire realm, I will personally see to it that Bo Cai is honored.”

”I will bestow upon him the highest posthumous titles, the ultimate prestige, and the financial rewards his family deserves for his ultimate sacrifice. His children will never know a day of hunger, and his name will be carved deeply into the ancestral steles of the greatest heroes of Hengyuan.”

​The words acted as a powerful, soothing balm to their wounded spirits. The heavy, brooding silence was finally broken by a collective exhalation, a releasing of the agonizing tension that had gripped them since Zhang Mancheng’s report. Their brother was dead, but he was honored, remembered, and exalted to the highest heavens.

​Lie Fan offered a warm, genuinely affectionate smile to his oldest comrades.

​”You have all served me flawlessly,” Lie Fan told them. ”You have stood between me and death more times than I can count. But today, the realm is secure. The capital is safe. The Cao clan is caged. And so, I am granting all of you a holiday.”

​Guan Hai blinked, his brow furrowing in surprise. ”Your Majesty? A holiday?”

​”Yes,” Lie Fan nodded firmly. ”I want you all to leave this compound. Go home. Take off your armor. Spend time with your wives, hold your children, visit your families. Drink wine, relax, and mourn Bo Cai properly in the sunlight. You have earned this rest. You deserve it more than anyone in this sprawling city.”

​”But Your Majesty,” Zhou Cang protested gruffly, his protective, fanatical instincts flaring up immediately. He practically leaped from his bench. ”Who will guard your back? Who will watch over the Imperial Family if we are drinking wine at home?”

​”I have an entire army of elite Imperial Guards who have been resting here in Xiapi while we marched west,” Lie Fan chuckled gently, waving Zhou Cang down. ”They are veterans, exceptionally well trained, and eager to prove themselves to the throne. I will have a heavy, hand picked detachment of them accompany me and the Imperial Family while you enjoy your holiday. Do not argue with your Emperor on this, Zhou Cang. Go be with your blood. That is an order.”

​The bodyguards looked at each other, profoundly touched by the incredible, empathetic gesture from their sovereign. As one, the hardened killers stood up, cupping their fists and bowing so deeply their waists bent at a right angle.

​”We thank Your Imperial Majesty!” they chorused, their voices thick with gratitude, renewed devotion, and the bittersweet solace of shared mourning.

​

​Leaving the quarters of the Yellow Ghost Bodyguards behind, Lie Fan found a newly assembled squad of elite Imperial Guards waiting for him in the corridor. Their armor was pristine, their halberds gleaming, and their movements were sharp and perfectly synchronized.

They lacked the silent, instinctual, terrifying synergy of his veteran ghosts, but it mattered little within the heavily fortified, absolute safety of his own capital walls.

​Flanked by his new escort, Lie Fan began the long walk toward the main political and administrative wing of the palace.

​The architecture here was vastly different from the ancient, brooding, scarred stones of Chang’an. The corridors of Xiapi’s imperial palace were wide, airy, and bathed in the bright, optimistic morning sunlight.

Masterfully carved wooden lattices cast intricate, beautiful geometric shadows across the polished white marble floors. The air smelled of fresh pine and expensive incense, not blood and burning pitch.

​As he walked, the rhythm of his footsteps echoing off the marble, Lie Fan’s mind effortlessly shifted gears.

The warlord who had swung a heavenly halberd on the blood soaked battlements of the west was put to rest, the supreme administrator, the Emperor who had to manage the staggering logistics, laws, and economy of millions, stepped firmly to the forefront.

​He knew exactly what was waiting for him at the end of this corridor.

​Except for Sima Yi, Xu Shu, and Pang Tong, who had ridden with him on the grueling, months long western campaign, the rest of his formidable inner circle had remained right here in Xiapi to govern the massive state. And they were men of terrifying, peerless efficiency.

​Lie Fan mentally cataloged the impending bureaucratic avalanche. He knew his Chancellor, the brilliant, shadowy, and ruthless Jia Xu, would have a comprehensive breakdown of the empire’s internal security apparatus, alongside the finalized logistical plans for the Cao clan’s permanent, suffocating house arrest.

He knew his Grand Commandant, the flawless, meticulous tactician Xun You, would have highly detailed reports on the disposition of the armies across the eastern seaboard and the southern borders.

And he knew his Grand Secretary, the rigidly organized and legally brilliant Chen Qun, would have literal mountains of administrative decrees, civil service evaluations, and regional petitions requiring the final press of the imperial seal.

​As he was contemplating the sheer weight of the paperwork, Lie Fan arrived at the towering, golden lacquered double doors of his private imperial office, the absolute nerve center of the Hengyuan Dynasty.

​The elite guards snapped to perfect attention, pushing the heavy doors open and stepping aside as the Emperor crossed the threshold. The office was vast, lined from floor to ceiling with towering rosewood shelves overflowing with bamboo slips, silk scrolls, and bound ledgers containing the lifeblood of the empire.

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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