Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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Gongsun Gong’s generals were baffled. Reports came in, towns ransacked by looters, not defenders. Grain stores were emptied by the retreating bureaucracy. Forts left unmanned. Inquiries revealed the truth, the Silla government had abandoned the interior.

One Goguryeo general, after reviewing the reports, shook his head in disbelief. “They’ve gutted their own land.”

“Clever,” another muttered. “Terrible for the people, but tactically sound. They deny us the resources and stretch us thin.”

Gongsun Gong listened quietly, then spoke. “It is ruthless. But effective. We cannot move as fast with our supply lines stretched. And we must pacify every city before pressing forward. Criminal elements must be crushed. If we leave them, they’ll fester and strike behind us.”

He turned to his lieutenants. “Send word to Li Wei. Silla is imploding. We may not need to fight at all.”

But even as he spoke, he knew the truth: this was no victory. A kingdom that destroyed itself was a kingdom that could not be ruled.

And so, the campaign slowed.

Each city became a battle, not against an army, but against chaos. Looters, rebels, thugs. The combined forces had to garrison every settlement they took, reducing their mobility.

But despite the delays, their momentum was undeniable.

And every step forward, Seorabeol trembled.

In Seorabeol, the streets were choked with refugees. Soldiers, nobles, merchants, peasants, all crammed into a city never meant to hold so many. Food grew scarce. Tempers flared.

Yet King Naemul remained steadfast.

He walked the walls daily, inspecting defenses, speaking to the men who would soon fight for their lives. He ordered the granaries opened, the armories emptied. Every able bodied man, woman, and even child was given a task, whether to carry water, tend the wounded, or sharpen spears.

His generals marveled at his calm.

“The people are afraid, my king,” one admitted.

King Naemul nodded. “Good. Fear keeps them sharp.”

He also received daily reports every day, each grimmer than the last. More cities lost. More people are fleeing. More crimes. His hands clenched behind his back as he stood in his war room, watching the red pins on the map creep closer.

“We have a month at most,” one general estimated. “They’ll reach the outer ring of Seorabeol within that time.”

“And the eastern ports?” Naemul asked.

“Evacuation is ahead of schedule. The Yamatai court has confirmed. They will receive us.”

King Naemul nodded, his face unreadable. He turned to his gathered generals. “Then we prepare for both, defense and retreat.”

Outside, Seorabeol braced itself. Walls were reinforced with stone and wood. Every able bodied man was drafted. Women and children were trained in basic drills. Food was rationed. The people were afraid, but their king had not fled. That gave them strength.

And King Naemul, in quiet hours, stood upon the battlements, staring into the west where smoke marked the approach of war.

He knew Silla stood on the edge. But so long as he drew breath, it would not fall without a fight. He had no illusions. He knew Seorabeol might fall. But if it did, it would not be without a fight that would echo through history.

And so Gongsun Gong and Goguryeo’s army, now reinforced by Gaya’s troops, marched ever closer.

Behind them, Baekje smoldered. Before them, Silla waited, not with armies, but with chaos.

And somewhere, far to the west at Xiapi, Emperor Hongyi, Lie Fan, watched, his fingers steepled, his mind already turning to the next conquest.

The peninsula would be his. And no king, no army, no desperate flight to Wa would stop that.

Then slowly, Gongsun Gong led the combined armies, his own, alongside Goguryeo’s, through the heart of what remained of Silla. City by city, street by street, they fought not traditional battles, but a brutal, exhausting campaign of pacification.

Criminal elements, bandits, rogue militias, and opportunistic looters had taken hold in the vacuum left by Silla’s collapse. But the discipline and coordination of Gongsun Gong’s forces prevailed.

Each time they entered a city, they acted not just as conquerors, but as restorers of order. Markets were reopened, looted homes were secured, and those who had preyed on the innocent were executed without hesitation.

The people of Silla, once proud and wary of foreign powers, found themselves slowly, grudgingly, turning their loyalties. Their own king had abandoned them. It was Gongsun Gong who restored peace. It was the banner of the Hengyuan Dynasty that brought food, protection, and law.

Whispers grew in the market squares and alleys:

“This Emperor Hongyi of Hengyuan Dynasty has not forsaken us.”

“Better a foreign emperor who feeds us, than our own king who fled and abandoned us.”

In contrast, the Gaya army’s march was fraught with hardship. Despite successfully pacifying several cities, their reputation and history with the Silla people stained their every step.

The citizens of Silla, especially on the southern part of Silla, harbored deep rooted animosity toward Gaya, so they refused to cooperate. Wells were poisoned. Storehouses were burned before Gaya soldiers arrived. Young men vanished into the hills to form guerrilla bands targeting Gaya’s supply lines.

The commanders of Gaya grew frustrated. Morale dipped. Progress slowed to a crawl.

Gongsun Gong was informed of the situation but made no public rebuke. Instead, he simply adjusted his timetable and pressed forward. His forces arrived before the walls of Seorabeol three full days before the Gaya contingent even reached the outskirts.

Now, the great capital of Silla stood before them.

A crown jewel of the peninsula, Seorabeol had become a fortress. Its walls had been reinforced with stone and timber. Catapults were mounted on its towers. Banners flew from every parapet, proud despite the desperation behind them.

Unlike the crumbling fortresses of Baekje, Seorabeol stood proud, its high stone barriers reinforced with fresh timber, its battlements bristling with spears and bows.

The air outside Seorabeol was thick with the scent of smoke and damp earth. Gongsun Gong sat astride his horse, observing the city’s formidable walls through narrowed eyes.

His generals shifted uneasily beside him.

“They’ve prepared well,” one murmured.

Gongsun Gong nodded. “King Naemul is no fool.”

But Gongsun Gong had already received word from the Oriole Agents, King Naemul had no intention of making his last stand here.

Lie Fan, Emperor Hongyi of Hengyuan, had sent clear instructions which was not to capture King Naemul.

Let him flee. Let him take his court, his generals, his children, and grandchildren to the eastern coast. Let him flee to Wa.

And let that act become the spark for a wider war.

So Gongsun Gong did not fully encircle Seorabeol. He left the eastern gate and the direction to the coastline open, just as ordered.

A Goguryeo commander frowned. “We should close the noose completely. If we leave the east open, they’ll escape.”

Gongsun Gong’s expression remained unreadable. “His Majesty’s orders stand. Let them flee.”

The commander opened his mouth to protest, but a sharp glance silenced him.

“The Emperor has his reasons,” Gongsun Gong said coolly. “Our task is to take the city, not to slaughter every last Silla noble.”

With that, he turned back to Seorabeol and raised a hand, signaling for his army and Goguryeo’s forces to spread around the city like a tightening noose, leaving only one escape route untouched.

Then, the siege began.

Trebuchets hurled flaming stones day and night, battering the outer defenses. Great Hwacha rocket carts roared, releasing waves of deadly arrows that fell upon the battlements in storms of fire and steel. Battering rams, clad in iron and driven by seasoned troops, pounded relentlessly on the outer gates.

The Climbing Tigers, towering siege ladders mounted on wheeled platforms, were pushed forward under the cover of shield walls. Archers loosed covering fire as infantry ascended the ladders, braving boiling oil and arrows from above.

Inside Seorabeol, King Naemul stood with grim pride, directing the defense personally. His soldiers fought with the fury of desperation, knowing there would be no second stand.

They had trained the civilians to fight. They had readied the children as runners, the elderly as lookouts, the women as nurses and cooks, and even spearbearers.

But they could not stop the machines of war.

Each day, the outer wall crumbled further.

Still, Gongsun Gong advanced methodically. He did not rush. He did not gamble. Instead, he focused on weakening the enemy psychologically and physically.

At the same time, he dispatched smaller units to the surrounding towns and cities still loyal to Seorabeol. His strategy was one of encirclement and exhaustion. Town by town, his officers took control through negotiation where possible, through force when needed.

These cities were offered terms, surrender, and be spared. Resist, and face the wrath of the Hengyuan Dynasty.

Most surrendered.

Meanwhile, Gaya’s forces finally arrived, battered and demoralized from constant harassment and delays. Gongsun Gong received their commander coolly, offering no words of complaint, but giving Gaya’s forces only minor roles in the final assault.

The siege entered its third week.

Inside the city, food ran low. Water became precious. Disease crept into the cramped quarters of the poor. Panic rose.

And at last, the time came.

King Naemul stood in the palace courtyard, dressed in ceremonial armor, surrounded by his family and his loyal court. The hour had come for retreat.

He had no illusions. His kingdom was lost. But his lineage would survive.

Ships waited at the eastern port. The Yamatai court had promised shelter.

He gave a final speech to those who would remain behind, soldiers and volunteers, those who would cover the retreat with their lives.

“History will remember your names,” he said, his voice firm. “You are not cowards. You are the last defenders of our land.”

Then he turned, and with quiet dignity, led his family and court through the eastern gate.

They did not look back.

Gongsun Gong, watching from afar, received the Oriole Agent’s report within the hour.

“The King has fled. The eastern port is active. They are heading there now.”

He nodded. “Let them go as per His Majesty’s order.”

Then he gave the final order.

“Breach the walls. Take the city.”

And so Seorabeol, once the proud capital of Silla, fell.

The final assault lasted six hours.

The defenders fought with everything they had. But they were starved, broken, outnumbered.

By sunset, Hengyuan and Goguryeo banners flew above the highest towers.

King Naemul was gone. His kingdom, like Baekje before it, had ceased to exist.

But Lie Fan, Emperor Hongyi, now had what he desired most, that is a claim. Silla’s royal court had taken refuge in Wa.

And with it, a pretext to turn his eyes across the sea. Gongsun Gong stood atop the palace ruins of Seorabeol and looked east. The peninsula was now under Hengyuan Dynasty control fully. But the horizon called. The land of Wa would soon feel the weight of Hengyuan’s ambition.

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Name: Lie Fan

Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty

Age: 34 (201 AD)

Level: 16

Renown: 2325

Cultivation: Yin Yang Separation (level 9)

SP: 1,121,700

ATTRIBUTE POINTS

STR: 966 (+20)

VIT: 623 (+20)

AGI: 623 (+10)

INT: 667

CHR: 98

WIS: 549

WILL: 432

ATR Points: 0

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