Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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Zhang Song tapped the table, his voice low. ”We underestimated how fast Guo Jia and Xi Zhicao would anticipate our adjustments and when he saw an error they took it. We believed the two of them would be more conservative in their counter response, but it looks like we are wrong.”

Fa Zheng nodded. ”We miscalculated. Guo Jia and Xi Zhicai did not simply react, they predicted. They were waiting for a mistake in our strategy or the implementation. Now with the flanks split and under pressure, Cao Cao’s sons, Cao Ang and Cao Pi, can force a breakthrough by brute force and precise timing.”

Meng Da slammed his fist into his palm. ”If we don’t order a retreat, we’ll lose both Yan Yan and Zhang Ren, alongside the first defensive line with them. If we do retreat, Jianmen’s outer wall will fall.”

Fa Zheng’s eyes narrowed. ”But we save the core force. That matters more. We regroup and hold the second line. Sacrificing more men to delay the inevitable will only deplete our strength further.”

Zhang Song pulled a fresh scroll and began drafting the fallback order. ”Then it’s decided. We abandon the first defensive line. All forces will pull back in coordinated order. Yan Yan and Zhang Ren must hold until the very last moment, then retreat to the second wall. We must also reassign formations. The second defense must not crumble like the first. At least before we decide to retreat to Zitong.”

Fa Zheng added tactical instructions to reinforce the next phase. ”We must use the terrain to our advantage, narrow the paths, make the enemy pay for every step. And keep archers high. Set traps along the abandoned line to slow pursuit.”

By the time the revised strategy was penned, the three tacticians sealed the letter and handed it to the fastest courier. ”Ride like lightning,” Fa Zheng commanded. ”If you must abandon the horse mid way, run. If you lose that message, Jianmen is lost.”

Back at the frontline, Yan Yan was rallying his men atop the ramparts. Dust and smoke choked the air, while shouts of command and screams of dying soldiers filled the battlefield. He glanced at Zhang Ren, whose armor was splattered with blood, yet he stood tall, bow in hand, firing shot after shot with grim precision.

”We can’t hold much longer,” Zhang Ren shouted over the chaos.

Yan Yan growled, ”Not until we hear from Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, and Meng Da. We hold!”

Moments later, the courier arrived, face flushed, body drenched in sweat, the sealed scroll still clutched in his trembling fingers. Yan Yan ripped it open and read the instructions. His jaw clenched but he gave a single, decisive nod.

”Sound the signal. Begin phased retreat.”

Zhang Ren’s eyes flashed. ”We give them the outer wall, but they’ll bleed for it.”

Flames and smoke billowed as the defenders began setting fire to ammunition stores, sabotaging weapons that could not be carried, and triggering traps set along the pass. Arrows rained down from above as Wei soldiers surged forward to claim the abandoned line.

Yan Yan stood at the last tower, watching the Wei banners rise where Han flags had flown. He whispered a vow, ”You may take the wall, but not our resolve.”

The Han Army withdrew in tight formations, regrouping behind the inner barricades. The battle was far from over. But now, every inch of ground would cost Wei dearly.

In the rear, Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, and Meng Da were already refining the next phase of resistance, vowing not to let Yan Yan and Zhang Ren repeat their earlier mistake.

By dusk, the Han army had fallen back to the inner defenses of Jianmen Pass.

Yan Yan, his face streaked with soot, surveyed the new lines. ”This will hold. For a time.”

Zhang Ren grunted. ”Long enough for the southern campaign to conclude, hopefully.”

Neither voiced the unspoken fear. ’What if it isn’t?’

Meanwhile, at the command tent of the Wei Army, a heavy tension lingered despite the long-awaited victory at Jianmen Pass. Cao Cao sat at the head of the large, candlelit table, a scroll unfurled in front of him detailing the most recent reports of casualties. His face was calm, almost impassive, but the flickering light cast deep shadows across his features, hinting at the weight he bore.

Guo Jia and Xi Zhicai stood respectfully before him, having just finished summarizing the figures. The outer wall had been taken, yes, but the cost had been immense. Thousands lay dead or maimed.

Cao Cao’s fingers curled slightly over the parchment as he read the toll, and though his eyes did not betray grief, the lie in his heart that this didn’t hurt was a hollow one. Still, he reminded himself, the gain had been worth it.

A breakthrough at Jianmen Pass, after more than a month of stalemate, was no small thing. They now had a foothold, a staging point from which the rest of the pass might be taken.

”Your Majesty,” Guo Jia began carefully, seeing the look on Cao Cao’s face. ”We have finally made the breach. The enemy has fallen back to their second line, and their movements are defensive, not retaliatory.”

Cao Cao nodded faintly, then lifted his gaze from the scrolls to his two brilliant strategists. ”Tell me, what is the likelihood of a counterattack? Will Liu Zhang, no the Han attempt to regain the ground we’ve just taken?”

Guo Jia answered immediately, clasping his hands before him in formal respect. ”Your Majesty, such a thing is unlikely. From the beginning, the Han have displayed a pure defensive posture. No signs of aggression, only entrenchment and defence. Their priority is holding, not retaking lost ground.”

Xi Zhicai stepped forward, his tone firm but analytical. ”I agree with Guo Jia, Your Majesty. The Han army’s behavior suggests they have no intention to go on the offensive. If we maintain steady pressure and ensure our advance is calculated, we can slowly erode their defenses without exposing ourselves. The key is not to let them find an opportunity to shift their strategy.”

Cao Cao sighed, the tension easing from his shoulders. Just as he was about to speak, the tent flap parted, allowing two tall figures to step inside. It was Cao Ang and Cao Pi, still clad in their armor, traces of dust and blood clinging to their faces and greaves. They bowed deeply, first to their father, then to Guo Jia and Xi Zhicai.

”Imperial Father. Master Guo. Master Xi,” they greeted in unison.

Cao Cao smiled at the sight of his sons. ”Rise. You’ve both done well today. Come, tell me, how are you holding up after the battle?”

The two of them straightened, their postures rigid with the discipline of seasoned commanders.

Cao Ang spoke first, voice calm and composed. ”We are well, Imperial Father. Tired, but uninjured. Thank you for your concern.”

Cao Pi added, ”The Han forces resisted fiercely, but their retreat was orderly, Imperial Father. They are not broken yet.”

Cao Cao studied his sons. Beneath the exhaustion, he saw something new, a hardened resolve, the weight of command settling onto their shoulders, different from their usual style of following command or fighting at the frontline.

”Good,” he murmured.

”And how did it feel,” Cao Cao asked, leaning forward slightly, ”to lead tens of thousands of men into battle, to shoulder the weight of life and death, victory and defeat? Did it teach the two of you anything of value?”

The brothers exchanged a glance. Cao Pi gave a small nod, silently urging his elder brother to speak first. As Crown Prince, and elder, it was only right.

Cao Ang acknowledged the gesture with gratitude and turned to his father. ”Today, I felt for the first time the true burden of command, not just leading troops, but being responsible for their lives, their hopes, and their deaths. I realized that hesitation can be fatal, but so can blind confidence. Every decision must be deliberate, measured.”

He met his father’s gaze. ”It made me understand, even a fraction, of what you must feel every day, Imperial Father. As I have felt it myself today.”

Cao Cao listened carefully, nodding with satisfaction. ”Well said, Ang. And you, Pi?”

Cao Pi straightened, his eyes sharper, his voice more emotive. ”What I learned is that leading is not just about tactics or commands, Imperial Father. It’s about presence. When the men see you standing beside them, when they hear you shout above the din, they fight not for orders, but for belief. I saw morale rise from my presence more than from any speech I gave.”

He paused, then added, ”And sometimes... instinct or feeling outweighs logic or plan. The best strategy in the field is the one that adapts.”

For a moment, silence filled the tent. Then Cao Cao let out a loud, hearty laugh. He clapped his hands once, genuinely pleased. ”Excellent! Excellent! You both have learned lessons not from books or scrolls, but from blood and dust. That is what makes a ruler or a general. Not words, but understanding.”

He gave a nod of approval to both. ”You’ve earned your rest. Go now, recover your strength. Tomorrow will bring more trials.”

”Yes, Imperial Father,” both sons answered in unison. They saluted, bowed again to Guo Jia and Xi Zhicai, and left the tent, their silhouettes fading into the night as the guards closed the flaps behind them.

Silence returned to the tent, thick and contemplative.

Cao Cao looked back at Guo Jia and Xi Zhicai. The two advisors had observed the exchange in silence, their expressions thoughtful. And Cao Cao’s gaze is sharper now. ”What do you think of them? My sons. Not as heirs, but as commanders. As men.”

Guo Jia tilted his head, choosing his words with care. ”Prince Cao Ang is steady. Cautious, perhaps too much, but aware of the stakes. He sees the bigger picture, but he is still learning how to act decisively under pressure. With time, he could become a wise general, perhaps even a noble ruler.”

Xi Zhicai nodded. ”And Prince Cao Pi... he is bold. He understands the intangibles which are morale, presence, and emotion. He leads with not only his mind but his heart, and not foolishly. There’s steel under his poise. He will be formidable, especially when he learns restraint.”

Cao Cao leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. ”Ang is like a calm river, deep and slow, but always flowing. Pi is a spark, ready to ignite when the moment calls. They complement each other.”

Guo Jia added, ”If they remain united, Your Majesty’s legacy will be secure.”

Xi Zhicai agreed. ”But if they drift apart... that same legacy may be the source of strife.”

Cao Cao didn’t speak immediately. He merely nodded and looked out through the tent flap at the fire lit horizon where the remnants of battle still smoldered. Jianmen Pass had not yet fallen. But the inner walls were now in sight and ready for the taking, by any means necessary.

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Name: Lie Fan

Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty

Age: 34 (201 AD)

Level: 16

Next Level: 462,000

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