Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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Li Wei’s eyes lingered on a chest being secured with rope before he answered. ”I am. We have the information King Jinji have shared to us before, and the intelligence gathered from Gaya’s capital. With that, and with the Oriole agents in the shadows, I am full ready for this meeting.”

Gongsun Gong nodded slowly, but there was a weight in his gaze. ”I have also made a request to His Majesty. The letter of approval arrived from His Majesty not long ago. I asked for Admiral Gan Ning to lead a squadron of advanced ships around Jeju-Do. They will fly the banner of Goguryeo, not Hengyuan, so Yamatai will see nothing more than an ally guarding the waters.”

For the first time, a small smile touched Li Wei’s lips. He inclined his head. ”That was well thought out. Yamatai believes themselves unmatched on the seas. The might of the Hengyuan Dynasty must remain a whispered rumor, a hidden dagger. Let Yamatai believe they are dealing only with Goguryeo’s influence and no foreign powers includes for now.”

”The presence of a ’friendly’ Goguryeo fleet, inexplicably powerful and advanced, will be a puzzle they cannot ignore. It is a bargaining chip of immense value. We can offer the shadow of our protection, or imply the threat of its withdrawal, without ever openly declaring our hand.”

”That is why I did it,” Gongsun Gong replied. His voice was quiet but firm. ”Their ships may be swift and brave storms, but they are not our ships. Let them see the difference, even from a distance, and let that sight sow doubt and curiosity. The rest now lies in your hands, Master Li Wei. The success of His Majesty’s grand design for these eastern seas may well be decided by your words on that island.”

Li Wei gave a curt nod, his expression sharpening. ”It will. You have my word.”

At that moment, the last crate was secured aboard. Li Wei turned to Gongsun Gong, bowing slightly. ”It is time. Pray fortune favors us.”

”Go with fortune, Li Wei,” Gongsun Gong said, returning the bow. ”We will await your news.”

Li Wei boarded the ship with his men, the gangplank drawn up behind him. With shouted commands and the creak of ropes, the sails were unfurled, catching the offshore wind.

The ship pulled away from the dock, its wake a spreading scar on the placid water. Li Wei stood at the stern, watching Gongsun Gong and the port diminish until they were mere specks on the coastline, then vanish entirely.

The journey to the island, which have been officially named Jeju-Do by Imperial Decree, took three days, the fleet rode the open seas. The waters were at times calm, at times restless, but Li Wei never let his mind idle.

Li Wei spent his time reviewing scrolls on Yamatai customs, practicing the complex phrases of diplomatic language, and observing the crew. His mind, however, was always on the horizon, on the meeting to come.

He also walked to the deck with hands folded behind his back, his gaze always on the horizon. His men whispered among themselves that he scarcely slept, his thoughts always on the delicate balance of blades and words he would soon face.

At night, when the moon painted the sea silver, he would stand alone at the prow, the wind tugging at his sleeves, his thoughts wandering to Hengyuan itself. ’The Emperor lays the stones. I am but one to set them in place. Failure is not permitted.’

On the third morning, land rose from the sea, a rugged island, green hills crowned by forests, cliffs meeting the waves with defiance.

Jeju-Do.

The fleet made harbor at a makeshift dock built earlier by Gongsun Gong’s men. The pier was sturdy enough, but clearly temporary, planks still smelling of fresh cut timber. Soldiers greeted him respectfully, saluting as he stepped onto the island’s soil.

One soldier, armor dusty from days of patrol, hurried to report. ”Master Li Wei. The Yamatai delegation is camped on the eastern shore. Their ships/strange designs, with large, square sails and bird like prows, have been patrolling the island’s waters. They circle twice daily, at dawn and dusk. They will have most certainly marked your arrival.”

Li Wei absorbed the information without a change in expression. ”Thank you, soldier. Ensure our perimeter security is discreet but absolute. We are guests here, but we are not careless.”

”Understood, sir.”

He turned to his entourage, his voice steady, commanding. ”Draft a letter. Use the language of Gaya. Be formal, be respectful, but be firm. Address it to the honored emissaries of Yamatai. proposes a meeting between the two parties at a neutral ground, precisely midway between our camps. The meeting is to be held two days from now. That will give them time to receive the message and prepare, and it allows us time to scout the location.”

The scribes immediately set to work, parchment unrolled and ink ground on the spot. Li Wei clasped his hands behind his back again, his gaze turning eastward, toward the unseen Yamatai camp.

The sea breeze tugged at his robe, but he stood unmoving, his expression unreadable. So it begins, he thought. A battle of words to match the clash of steel.

And thus, as blood still dried on the walls of the wooden fort far to the south, another kind of contest was about to unfold, one fought not with arrows or stones, but with wit, patience, and the weight of empires.

The sound of waves faded behind Li Wei as he stepped into the encampment. Rows of canvas tents stretched in ordered lines, their white surfaces rippling under the salty breeze.

The Hengyuan banner, though modest, without imperial symbols, snapped lightly above the command pavilion. Soldiers were unpacking supplies, stacking crates of dried grain and jars of pickled vegetables in neat rows. Black iron braziers smoldered near the kitchen tents, and the tang of boiling rice drifted faintly on the air.

Li Wei walked with measured steps, his robes trailing dust. His eyes swept over every detail, the placement of sentries, the way patrols moved between the tents, the readiness of arms and armor. Everything here would speak to Yamatai if spies were watching, and he assumed they were. Order must be absolute.

His personal tent had already been raised in the heart of the camp, marked discreetly with the sigil of the Lie Clan. Inside, the floor was carpeted with woven mats, and a low lacquered table held stacks of bamboo scrolls, an inkstone, and maps pinned under polished river stones.

It was not luxury, but it was precision,the environment of a man who understood that even in the wilds, a scholar’s discipline was a blade as keen as steel.

Li Wei entered and unfastened the traveling cloak from his shoulders, hanging it neatly on a wooden stand. His aides were already waiting, heads bowed.

”Bring the translator,” Li Wei said softly, without looking up from the map he was unrolling. ”And the Silla language primers. We begin now.”

The aides moved at once. Moments later, a man in plain robes entered, his features sharp but humble. This was Han Myeong, a Silla native who had served the Bureau for year’s as a spy in Silla. He knelt without a word, setting down a bundle of bamboo slips etched with phonetics.

Li Wei sat cross legged, gesturing for ink and brush. ”The meeting will be won or lost in words,” he murmured. ”And words, if mishandled, can kill faster than swords.”

For the next several hours, the tent became a place of relentless focus. Li Wei repeated syllables again and again, refining the subtle tones of Silla speech until his articulation no longer betrayed an outsider’s cadence. Han Myeong corrected him patiently, sometimes using gestures, sometimes simple sketches on scraps of paper.

By the second hour, sweat beaded at Li Wei’s brow, but his voice grew smoother, more confident. He practiced phrases of greeting, lines of courtesy, and more delicate constructions meant for negotiation,. ”honored envoy,” ”mutual prosperity,” ”shared destiny upon these waters.”

When dusk began to settle and the sound of cicadas filled the air outside, a scribe approached, bowing low. ”Master Li Wei. The letter is prepared.”

Li Wei set down the brush, flexing the stiffness from his fingers. The scribe held out a sheet of fine parchment covered in precise Silla characters. Li Wei read every line twice, lips moving silently. When he was satisfied, he gave a single nod and pressed his seal into the scarlet ink, stamping the Lie Clan emblem at the base.

He held the letter a moment longer, feeling the weight of it, not in grams, but in consequence. Then he handed it to the waiting messenger.

”Take this to the Yamatai camp,” Li Wei commanded. ”You will be accompanied by six guards and Han Myeong. Fly the banner of Goguryeo and the white flag of peace. Make no unnecessary gestures. Deliver the letter, observe their camp with your eyes and your mind, then return.”

The messenger clasped his fists. ”It will be done, my lord.”

Li Wei’s gaze softened, just slightly. ”And remember, every step you take on that road speaks for us. Be the image of respect.”

The man bowed deeply and withdrew. Outside, the creak of saddles and the stamp of hooves soon followed as the small party formed. Li Wei watched from the tent’s threshold as they rode eastward, their banners rippling against the crimson wash of sunset.

When the dust of their departure settled, he turned back inside. The map lay spread across the low table, inked with the jagged outline of Jeju-Do. He studied the marks carefully:

North, their encampment, secure, anchored by the harbor where the fleet rode at anchor like silent wolves.

East, the Yamatai camp, its exact size unknown but certainly formidable, with their ships’ strange silhouettes dark against the horizon.

Center, the chosen ground for the meeting, an open plain cut by a narrow stream, with a ridge rising to the north.

Li Wei tapped the ridge with the tip of his finger. The mountains, sparse but jagged, were on their side. Concealment enough for a hundred men, maybe more. Insurance. Not to provoke, but to preserve.

”Have a detachment prepare a concealed position here,” Li Wei said without looking up. ”Quietly. If Yamatai means ill, we will not be cornered like lambs.”

His aide bowed and left to relay the order. Night deepened. The campfires outside threw wavering light against the tent walls.

Li Wei remained seated long after the others had gone, tracing the inked lines of the map, his thoughts a measured tide, Every precaution taken. Every step calculated.

And still, the unknown waits across the plain. Meanwhile, to the east, the messenger’s party rode hard along a trail beaten by Gongsun Gong’s scouts. The wind smelled of brine and wild grass, and the surf’s distant thunder mingled with the snort of horses.

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Name: Lie Fan

Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty

Age: 35 (202 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