Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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Muchen’s face turned scarlet at once, the flush spreading to his ears. He stammered, tripping over his words. ”I... I... I would not... I mean, I do not want a political betrothal, Imperial Father! I... I want love! Like you and Imperial Mother! I don’t want to choose from a scroll!”

Lie Fan meanwhile arched a brow, his smirk widening. And seeing that smirk on his father’s face, all thoughts of battlefields and glory forgotten in the face of this new, terrifying prospect, the Crown Prince Lie Muchen executed the most strategic retreat of his young life.

Muchen, while overwhelmed by embarrassment, blurted a hasty bow. ”Forgive me, Imperial Father! I must take my leave!” Without waiting for reply, he spun on his heel and darted toward the doors, his steps betraying both youthful indignation and awkward retreat.

Zhuge Jin and Zhao Yun exchanged amused glances before bowing deeply. ”Your Majesty, we request leave to accompany His Highness. With your permission, Your Majesty, we should... ensure His Highness is alright.”

Lie Fan waved a hand, his chuckle finally breaking free. ”Go, go. Protect him from any more... portraits.”

The doors shut behind the three, and for a long moment Lie Fan stood alone in the chamber. Then he let out an another chuckle, this one is more deep and genuine, shaking his head. His son’s flustered escape had dissolved the tension like morning mist.

”Ah, Muchen...” he murmured to himself. ”You carry both the fire of ambition and the innocence of youth. I truly wabt to see see you grow into the ruler this land will need, and bring a new era of prosperity into the land.”

With that, he returned to his desk, his heart lighter for the moment. Outside, the butterflies still danced above the garden’s blossoms, unbothered by the weight of empires and wars.

On the other hand, far to the southwest, where the humid winds carried the scent of salt and tropical rains, the land of Champa lay restless. Rice paddies shimmered under the glaring sun, their waters reflecting the silhouettes of soldiers and broken banners. The kingdom had been struck low, its main army scattered, its forts taken one by one by the inexorable advance of Hengyuan banners.

Inside one such fort, now bearing both the scars of battle and the disciplined order of new rulers, the Shi Clan brothers sat in council. The chamber had once been a Champa command hall, with wooden beams carved in spirals resembling naga serpents and lotus motifs. Now, the dragons of the Hengyuan Dynasty hung beside them, symbols of power that reminded all who entered that a new age was pressing down upon these lands.

Shi Xin, the eldest, sat at the head. His posture was steady, his gaze sharp, the weight of responsibility pressing but never bending him. To his left was Shi Zhi, the pragmatic middle brother, with a mind sharpened like a whetstone, ever ready to cut through excuses. To his right, Shi Hui, the youngest, bright eyed, sharp tongued, with the kind of idealistic fervor that could ignite sparks in the hearts of men.

Before them stood a man of Champa, lean and scarred, his dark eyes wary yet unbroken. He had given them his name, though with caution, Lieutenant Po Kandar. Around him lingered a handful of his men, their tattered uniforms a reminder of both their defiance and their desperation.

The problem was plain, the process of recruiting captured Champa soldiers into auxiliary service was faltering. Too many resisted, too many doubted. The soldiers would not willingly serve unless someone they trusted, someone of their own, gave them reason to believe it was more than chains under another master.

That someone, Shi Xin knew, was Po Kandar.

”Your men look up to you lieutenant,” Shi Xin began, his voice even, spoken in careful Champa tongue. The words were not clumsy, but fluid, surprising Po Kandar. ”They fought for you, they followed you when you defied your own general and captains. They will not take up arms again unless you walk the path first.”

The lieutenant narrowed his eyes but did not speak. His silence was not of ignorance, but it was calculation.

Shi Xin continued, ”We do not ask you to betray your people. We ask you to save them.”

Po Kandar let the words linger. His silence was weighty, but his eyes betrayed thought. The three brothers, sensing his test, pressed gently but firmly.

Shi Zhi leaned forward, his tone practical, matter of fact. ”Your king has abandoned you. You know this. While he feasts in palaces, your people starve. While he collects tributes for his pleasure, your soldiers fight without boots, without coin, without hope. Yet you, Lieutenant Po Kandar, you care. You mutinied not for ambition but for survival. That is why they follow you still.”

The lieutenant’s jaw twitched. He had not expected his heart to be laid bare so easily.

Then Shi Hui spoke and where his brothers had pressed with logic, he struck with fire. His words came not as a rehearsed speech but with the passion of one who believed.

”Our Emperor,” Shi Hui said, ”is not like the kings you have known. He is a man who rose not using his background of a small distant nobility but from the trust of his people. He reformed his court, purged the corrupt, and gave land back to farmers who had been robbed by greedy officials. He opened schools so even the poorest child might learn to read, so that no voice would remain voiceless. Even the lowest farmer may rise through virtue and skill. He commands armies, yes, but more than that, he commands hearts. Because he listens. Because he cares.”

Po Kandar’s stern façade cracked, his lips pressed thin, but his hands tightened slightly against his knees. His men shifted uneasily, as if they too felt the stirrings of a dangerous hope.

Shi Hui pressed on, his voice low but fierce. ”Tell me, Lieutenant, has your king ever asked whether your children eat? Has he ever given thought to whether your people learn? Our Emperor has. Not only for his own people but for those who come under his protection. When corrupt officials grew fat off the sweat of the people, he purged them. When nobles grew arrogant and abused their station, he humbled them. Even the Nanman tribes, who once lived apart, now stand as brothers under our banners, their children taught, their families fed. He makes no distinction of race or birth. Only loyalty and service matter. Would you not want the same for your people?”

The words struck deep. Never, not once, had Champa known such a ruler. Not even Sri Mara, their first king who had led them out of Han’s yoke, had gone so far. Since then, kings had come and gone, some fair, most cruel, and the current monarch was the worst of all.

The lieutenant thought of his family, his wife, his children. Without his pay as a lieutenant, they would starve. Even now, his salary barely kept rice in their bowls. To afford tutors or scrolls for his children was a fantasy so distant it seemed laughable.

He lowered his gaze, muttering more to himself than them. ”Even Sri Mara, our first king, who freed us from the clutches of the Han, did not dare to give such promises.”

Shi Hui caught that opening. ”Then perhaps it is time for a new Sri Mara. A new beginning. And perhaps that beginning stands not in resisting change, but in guiding it.”

When Shi Hui’s voice died down, Po Kandar finally spoke, his voice low and heavy. ”What you say... is this true? This Emperor of yours truly does these things?”

Shi Xin leaned forward now, his gaze unwavering. ”Every word is truth. If not for his reforms, our people too would live under the shadow of corruption and greed. Instead, the Hengyuan lands thrive, even in the midst of war. Fields are sown, markets are full, and the common folk can live with dignity. If you desire such a life for your people, then there is but one path forward.”

Shi Zhi, the middle brother, added with calm assurance, ”And do not fear rejection or scorn. Our Emperor embraces all races and peoples. The Nanman, once thought savage and unworthy, now serve proudly. They learn our ways, and in turn, we learn theirs. They are no less than us in the Emperor’s eyes. Your people, too, can walk this path, equal, welcomed, and given a chance to flourish under a just ruler.”

The lieutenant’s face darkened with conflict. His heart warred with his fears. He had always known their king cared little for the people. He had watched soldiers rot without supplies while the palace feasted. He had heard whispers of peasants starving in their villages, of women and children dying for lack of grain while the king’s coffers filled with foreign luxuries.

Perhaps it was time. Perhaps the way of Sri Mara had been abandoned, lost beneath generations of decadence. Perhaps salvation lay not in clinging to a corrupt crown, but in embracing something new.

Seeing the shift, itt was this that pushed Shi Xin to made a choice, one bold enough to shift the tide. He leaned forward, his voice carrying a weight beyond mere persuasion.

”Lieutenant Po Kandar,” he said, ”your people need more than a soldier. They need a symbol. A beacon. A voice that will not only fight but also speak for them. We can offer you that. When Champa is brought under the banner of the Hengyuan Dynasty, you will not remain a nameless lieutenant. You will go to Xiapi. You will meet our Emperor. And you will speak for your people at his court.”

The chamber fell silent. Even Shi Zhi turned his head, eyes widening at his brother’s audacity. This was a promise beyond their station, something only the Emperor himself could grant.

But Shi Xin held firm. He knew this was the final push.

Po Kandar’s lips parted slightly, his breath shallow. For a man who had lived his life under kings who never once listened, the idea that he might stand in a court where the ruler asked his counsel was unimaginable. It was like offering a starving man not only bread but a place at the table where decisions were made.

”Your Emperor...” he whispered, his voice almost reverent. ”Would he truly hear a man like me?”

Shi Hui smiled, his youthful fervor blazing. ”He has heard men far humbler than you. And he raised them into a very high positions.”

At that, Po Kandar bowed his head, long and deep. His men, sensing the shift, followed. The dam had broken. ”You have my answer,” Po Kandar said at last, voice steady. ”I will join. Not for you, not for conquest, but for my people. If your Emperor is as you say, then perhaps the path to salvation lies not in clinging to what is broken, but in walking toward what can be built anew.”

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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