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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​”Then we shall not keep them waiting,” Lie Fan decreed, his voice heavy with the burden of his crown. ”We will proceed to the eastern yard. We shall oversee the beheading of these top tier generals first.” He looked toward the eastern wing, his eyes narrowing slightly as he articulated the philosophical necessity of the act, speaking not just to his advisors, but to history itself.

​”It is a sad, tragic thing to strike down men of such unparalleled martial brilliance,” Lie Fan murmured, his words hanging in the crisp air. ”But there is absolutely nothing else we could do. I descended into the dark. I offered them the heavens, and they chose the earth. They would never, under any circumstances, pledge their allegiance to me or the Hengyuan banner. Their loyalty to Cao Mengde is a sickness that cannot be cured by reason, gold, or glory.”

​Lie Fan turned his gaze back to Chen Gong. ”And letting them rot away for decades in a damp, sunless cell... that would be an insult. It is a fate entirely unbefitting of their towering stature and the magnificent things they have achieved on the battlefield. They lived by the sword, and they shall die by it. A private beheading is a brutal end, yes, but it is a warrior’s end. It finalizes their legend.”

​Chen Gong nodded his head in absolute agreement. ”The law demands closure, Your Majesty. To leave them alive is an administrative and legal paradox.”

​Before taking the first step toward the execution grounds, Lie Fan’s mind shifted from the condemned men to the innocent bloodlines that he had sworn to protect from the fallout. The geopolitical logistics of mercy were often far more complicated than the logistics of execution.

​Lie Fan turned slightly back to Chancellor Jia Xu, his brow furrowing with sudden, sharp inquiry.

​”And what of their families?” Lie Fan asked, ensuring no loose ends remained to poison his future. ”The wives, the young children, the extended households of the generals? Have they already been secured and sent across the eastern sea to Taipei? Have they been received by Yang Hong and Yan Jun as I commanded?”

​The plan to exile the innocent remnants of the Wei command structure to the distant, heavily fortified island of Taipei had been a masterstroke of Lie Fan’s modern strategic foresight.

By sending them across the treacherous ocean to an island territory completely isolated from the mainland’s political machinations, he guaranteed they could never be used as pawns by ambitious rebels. They would live in comfort, but in absolute, inescapable quarantine.

​”Are they to be put under permanent house arrest there?” Lie Fan continued, demanding confirmation. ”And did General Ling Cao successfully deploy a specialized squad of our most elite soldiers to garrison those mansions and guard them indefinitely?”

​Jia Xu offered a thin, highly satisfied smile, a testament to the flawless efficiency of his intelligence and logistical networks.

​”Your Imperial Majesty’s foresight is, as always, without peer,” Jia Xu responded smoothly. ”Their families have been entirely removed from the capital and sent to Taipei exactly as Your Majesty ordered. The naval transport was swift and entirely discreet. The Oriole agents oversaw the boarding process to ensure no one was left behind and no spies were embedded among the servants.”

​Jia Xu bowed his head slightly. ”As we speak, Prefect Yang Hong and Administrator Yan Jun should have already received them at the port. The estates on the island have been provisioned for long term, comfortable habitation. Furthermore, General Ling Cao personally selected two hundred of our most elite, incorruptible soldiers. They have already established an absolute, airtight perimeter around the designated mansions. The families are alive, Your Majesty, but they are ghosts to the central plains. They will never trouble your dynasty.”

​Hearing the confirmation that his brutal but necessary mercy had been flawlessly executed, Lie Fan let out a quiet breath of relief. He nodded his head slowly, the last lingering shadow of anxiety lifting from his mind. He had secured the future without drowning it in innocent blood. Now, all that remained was to deal with the guilty.

​”Excellent work, Wenhe. Excellent work,” Lie Fan commended him quietly.

​He turned his body, his dark robes sweeping the stones, and faced the pathway leading toward the eastern execution zone.

​”Come,” Lie Fan commanded, his voice taking on the chilling, absolute resonance of the supreme judge. ”Let us go to the execution zone. It is time to end the old world.”

​Lie Fan led the way, his strides long, purposeful, and heavy. Directly behind him walked Jia Xu and Chen Gong, followed closely by the rest of the inner circle advisors who had orchestrated the fall of Wei.

​And surrounding them all, moving with the terrifying, synchronized silence of stalking predators, were the Yellow Ghost Bodyguards.

Their heavy yellow iron armor absorbed the morning sunlight, their hands resting easily on the pommels of their weapons, their eyes scanning every rooftop, every shadow, and every official they passed. They formed an impenetrable, moving fortress around their Emperor, ensuring that the walk to the execution ground was as secure as a heavily fortified bunker.

​The procession moved away from the beautiful, tranquil koi ponds and weeping willows of the main estate, passing through a heavy arched gateway into a large, barren, hard packed dirt courtyard designated for martial drills. Today, however, it served a much darker purpose.

​As Lie Fan stepped through the gateway, the sheer, visceral reality of the scene before him brought a sudden, heavy stillness to the air.

​At the far end of the wide dirt field, kneeling in a perfectly straight, horizontal line, were the five greatest generals of the Wei Dynasty.

​Xu Chu, Xiahou Dun, Xiahou Yuan, Cao Ren, and Cao Hong.

​They had been stripped of their armor, dressed in simple, rough spun white execution robes that fluttered slightly in the cold morning breeze. Their hands were bound tightly behind their backs with thick, industrial grade hemp rope.

​Placed directly in front of each kneeling general was a massive, scarred block of dark, heavy timber.

​Standing behind each kneeling figure was an executioner. These were not common headsmen wearing red hoods. They were hand picked veterans from Lie Fan’s elite heavy infantry, massive men clad in dark leather, their faces stoic and hardened by years of war.

They each held a massive, broad bladed executioner’s sword, the polished steel gleaming lethally, resting the tips of the heavy blades in the dirt, waiting.

​As Lie Fan and his entourage entered the yard, the five generals reacted to the Emperor’s presence.

​Cao Ren knelt like a statue of weathered stone, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and measured, maintaining the absolute, unshakeable dignity of the high marshal to his very last breath. Beside him, Cao Hong’s chest heaved, his eyes burning with a fiery, unquenchable hatred as he glared at the approaching Emperor, mouthing silent, venomous curses.

​Xiahou Yuan, true to the end, merely tilted his head, a faint, ghost of a sardonic smile touching his pale lips, looking at the executioner’s blade as if it were a minor inconvenience rather than his doom.

​Xiahou Dun, the Blind Wolf, did not look at the blade. His single, terrifying eye locked onto Lie Fan with a concentrated, physical pressure of malice. He did not struggle against his bonds, he simply radiated a hatred so pure it seemed to lower the temperature in the yard.

​And finally, at the far end of the line, was Xu Chu. The Tiger Fool strained against the thick hemp ropes binding his massive arms, his muscles bulging until the ropes creaked loudly in protest.

He glared at Lie Fan, a low, guttural growl vibrating in his throat, desperate to break free and tear the world apart with his bare hands, held in place only by the combined weight of his bonds and two additional guards pressing heavily on his shoulders.

​Lie Fan took in the sight, his face an impenetrable mask of cold imperial iron. He walked across the hard packed dirt, his boots kicking up small clouds of dust, moving toward a raised wooden platform that had been hastily constructed on the western edge of the yard to oversee the execution.

​Sitting in a finely carved wooden chair atop the platform was the designated judicial overseer of the execution, a high ranking magistrate.

The moment the magistrate saw the Emperor approaching, he leaped to his feet as if the chair had suddenly caught fire. He scrambled down the wooden steps, dropping to his knees in the dirt and pressing his forehead to the ground, desperately moving out of the way to allow the supreme sovereign to take his rightful place.

​Lie Fan ascended the short wooden steps with slow, deliberate movements. He reached the center of the platform and turned, his dark crimson robes swirling around his boots. He took his seat in the high backed wooden chair, resting his hands upon the armrests.

​From this elevated vantage point, he possessed a perfect, unobstructed view of the entire execution field. He saw the kneeling titans, the gleaming blades, the silent ranks of his own elite guards forming the perimeter, and the pale, nervous faces of the court officials standing in the safe distance.

​Lie Fan sat in perfect silence for a long, agonizing minute. He let the profound weight of the moment settle over the yard, ensuring that every soul present understood the historical magnitude of what was about to occur.

He looked at each of the five generals in turn, a final, silent acknowledgment of the blood they had shed, the brilliance they had shown, and the unyielding loyalty that had ultimately brought them to this block of wood.

​Slowly, Emperor Lie Fan leaned forward in his seat. His voice, enhanced by the profound silence of the yard, carried clearly across the cold morning air.

​”The time has arrived,” Lie Fan declared, his words striking the yard with the terrifying finality of a falling hammer. ”The era of chaos closes today. Let the judgment of Hengyuan be enacted.”

​Lie Fan reached his right hand toward a small, polished wooden table set beside his chair. Resting upon a crimson silk cloth was a set of carved wooden command tallies, the absolute, traditional symbols of lethal imperial authority.

​Lie Fan picked up a single, heavy wooden sign. He held it up for a fraction of a second, the dark wood stark against the pale sky, letting the condemned men see the physical manifestation of their death.

​With a swift, decisive, and entirely emotionless flick of his wrist, Lie Fan threw the wooden sign.

​It tumbled through the air, end over end, before striking the hard packed dirt below the platform.

​CLACK.

​The sharp sound of the wood hitting the earth was the absolute, irrevocable trigger.

​The moment the sign struck the ground, the five executioners moved with terrifying, practiced synergy. They stepped forward in unison, their heavy boots crunching in the dirt.

​With forceful, unyielding grips, the executioners reached down and pressed their heavy hands against the backs of the generals’ necks. The condemned men were forcefully pushed forward, their faces driven down until their necks were laid bare and flat across the deeply scarred, blood-stained timber of the chopping blocks.

​Xu Chu roared, a massive, primal sound of defiance, straining against the wood until the very block shook. Cao Hong spat one final curse into the dirt. Xiahou Dun kept his single eye open, staring fiercely into the dark earth. Xiahou Yuan let out a soft exhale, and Cao Ren remained perfectly, stoically silent.

​The executioners stepped back slightly, adjusting their footing in the dirt to ensure perfect balance. They hoisted the massive, broad bladed executioner’s swords high into the air, the polished steel catching the brilliant, optimistic light of the morning sun.

​With their blades raised, the five executioners flicked their eyes toward one another. In a fraction of a second, they exchanged a silent, professional glance, a grim communication honed by years of battlefield discipline.

They made absolutely certain they were perfectly aligned, perfectly synchronized, ensuring that the five pillars of Wei would fall at the exact same millisecond.

​The silent count was struck.

​With a terrifying, collective exhalation of breath, the five executioners engaged their shoulders, their core muscles contracting violently as they drove the heavy blades downward.

​The air itself seemed to tear as the five swords descended in perfect, horrifying tandem.

​THUD.

​The heavy, sickening sound of five massive blades simultaneously cleaving through bone, muscle, and sinew, and burying themselves deeply into the wooden blocks, echoed across the silent courtyard.

​It was over in an instant.

​The bodies of Xu Chu, Xiahou Dun, Xiahou Yuan, Cao Ren, and Cao Hong slumped forward, the life instantly, violently severed from their frames. The brilliant tactical minds, the unbreakable loyalties, and the terrifying martial prowess of the Wei vanguard were extinguished forever, their blood rapidly soaking into the dry dirt of the Wang Estate.

​High upon the wooden platform, Emperor Lie Fan did not flinch. He did not look away. He stared at the fallen titans, his face a mask of absolute, chilling imperial resolve. The military heart of his greatest enemy had been ripped out.

​The yard was deathly silent, save for the grim, metallic scrape of the executioners slowly pulling their heavy blades free from the bloody wood. Lie Fan rested his hands on the armrests of his chair, the cold morning wind pulling at his crimson robes. The generals were dead. The easy part of the day was over. Now, he had to wait for the sun to reach its zenith, where the poisoned cup awaited for the Cao Clan.

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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