Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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Inside Vijaya, the reaction was one of stunned, disbelieving joy. The defenders, who had been bracing for a final, bloody assault, watched the enemy tide recede. A cheer, born of sheer, desperate relief, erupted from the walls. The common people, who moments before had been certain of their deaths, wept and embraced each other.

”Victory! The invaders flee!”

They saw not a tactical withdrawal, but a miracle. Their so called ”Divine Army” title which they despise at first, now in their eyes, repelled the invaders through sheer presence or miracle that the gods granted them.

In his commandeered post, General Darsaka lounged lazily on silken cushions. Around him were several women, the same ”soldiers” Rudravarman had conscripted, now forced into his service by threat of the whip.

When the lieutenant entered, bowing low, Darsaka turned his head with a smirk. ”Report, soldier. Has the ’divine army’ driven off those foreign invaders and traitorous dogs yet?”

The lieutenant swallowed hard. ”Yes, my lord. The enemy has... retreated.”

Darsaka threw back his head and laughed, a booming, ugly, lewd sound that filled the chamber as his hands still roaming over the terrified women forced to attend him.

”Ha! Did I not say so? They fear us as the gods of Champa favor us! They see the might of the king’s divine will made flesh in his people, and they flee! I told you this was a masterstroke!!”

The women beside him remained silent, eyes blank with fear.

The lieutenant, a man who still possessed a shred of military sense, bowed his head, hiding his disgust. His hands trembled at his sides, dared not speak the truth, that the invaders had hesitated to slaughter civilians, a restraint his own king and general lacked entirely. But to voice that thought was to invite a death sentence for himself and his family.

He could only nod his head as the taste of shame bitter in his mouth. ”Yes, my lord. The city rejoices.”

”Good! Then tell His Majesty that the spirits of our ancestors fight beside us. And fetch me more wine, and another girl, one who still has the will to sing.”

The lieutenant bowed and backed out quickly, bile rising in his throat. He had seen too much, the forced conscriptions, the cruelty, the decadence of their King, Darsaka, and his ilk, and he knew the people of Champa would never forgive this.

Outside, the cheers of victory masked the quiet sobs of the conscripted families.

At the Shi Clan Command Post, the mood was grim but controlled. The campfires burned low, casting flickering shadows over the faces of generals and officers gathered around the strategy table.

Shi Xin stood at the head, his presence calm yet heavy with thought. Shi Zhi and Shi Hui sat nearby, their armor streaked with grime and sweat.

A few moments later, Po Kandar entered the tent, saluting sharply. ”Generals,” he said respectfully, though there was tension in his voice, ”why have we withdrawn? The men are confused.”

Shi Xin motioned for him to step closer. ”Because, Po Kandar,” he began evenly, ”I have learned the truth of what Rudravarman has done.”

Po Kandar’s brow furrowed. ”You mean... the civilians?”

Shi Xin nodded. ”Yes. He’s turned his own people into fodder for the walls. I will not win a battle that demands their slaughter. Not when half of your men have family within those gates.”

Po Kandar hearing what Shi Xin have just said, immediately bowed to one knee, where his knee deeply embedded to the ground, to the three Shi brothers.

”Generals,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. ”Thank you. Thank you for considering that for us. I... we... we saw them. Our people. On the walls.” He struggled to find the words. ”To raise a sword against them... it is an abomination the king has forced upon us.”

Shi Xin gestured for him to rise. ”We saw your struggle, Commander. We could not ask you to commit such an act. It would destroy your unit’s soul, and it would make us no better than the tyrant we seek to remove.”

He paced slowly before the map of Vijaya. ”This changes everything. We cannot simply batter down the gates. We would be wading through a river of innocent blood, and the Champa that remains would forever hate the name ’Hengyuan.’ We need a new strategy.”

Po Kandar looked at the map, his eyes tracing the familiar streets of his capital. ”The king has shown his true nature. He values his throne more than the lives of every man, woman, and child in this city. The people... they cheered today because they were spared. But they are not fools. They know they were sent to die. That knowledge is a crack. A small one, but a crack nonetheless.”

Shi Xin’s gaze hardened slightly. ”That is why I called for this meeting. We must decide our next move, one that spares as many innocents as possible without compromising our goal.”

Shi Hui frowned. ”But if we delay too long, the defenders may recover. They’ll see our restraint as weakness.”

Shi Zhi leaned forward, tapping the map. ”We don’t need to attack the walls immediately. If we cut off their supply lines, the king will be forced to act. Hunger and unrest will do our work for us.”

Po Kandar nodded, the first spark of hope lighting in his eyes. ”The people already despise him. If famine sets in, they will turn on him before long.”

Shi Xin’s eyes gleamed. ”Exactly. We need not slaughter the innocent, we only have to wait for them to realize who their true enemy is.”

The tent was silent for a moment, save for the crackle of the lantern flame.

Then, slowly, Shi Xin reached for his brush and began to write orders. ”Deploy scouts to the southern river crossings and western trade roads. I want all movement into Vijaya halted. No caravans, no smugglers, no merchants. We’ll build earthworks along the northern road to seal the city completely.”

Shi Zhi at this time added, ”And send word to the Champa Auxiliaries unit. Begin calling out to the defenders. Tell them to lay down their arms. Tell them to open the gates. Tell them that no harm will come to those who surrender. That under the Hengyuan, they will have justice and full bellies.”

”It is a good plan,” Shi Xin admitted. ”With hunger being played, those words will have lasting effect. The people will be much braver to goes against their king.”

Po Kandar exhaled deeply, bowing his head. ”You have my gratitude, General. My men will fight harder for this. They will see that we are not conquerors of their kin, but liberators.”

Shi Xin looked at him steadily. ”Then make sure they understand, Po Kandar. When Vijaya falls, it must be for the safety of its people as well.”

The several days passed.

The siege of Vijaya transformed from a storm of fire into a tightening noose. The Shi Clan Army dug trenches and fortified their outer camps, intercepting any messengers or supply caravans heading toward the capital.

The Champa Auxiliaries Unit, guided by Po Kandar, on the other hand begun to shout the words of propaganda, affecting the minds of the defenders.

Within the city, panic began to spread.

The forced conscripts returned to their homes, wounded, traumatized, starving, and influencers by the words, began whispering the truth, the king had sent them to die. Darsaka’s boasts turned to paranoia. Even the royal guard grew restless.

Soon each night, fires flickered in the streets as riots broke out among the hungry.

The riots were a sickness in the belly of Vijaya, a fever that broke out each night with increasing violence. They were suppressed, yes, but each suppression was a tourniquet applied too late and too tight, gangrenous to the very limb it was meant to save.

The cost was no longer measured in lost ground or broken weapons, but in the shattered trust between the people and the crown. More common people died at the hands of the royal guards and veteran soldiers in these brutal pacifications than had ever fallen defending the walls from the Shi Clan. The streets, still stained with the symbolic blood of the ”Divine Army,” were now slick with the very real blood of citizens cut down for demanding bread or justice.

This grim arithmetic began to rot the resolve of the men sworn to protect the king. The royal guards and veteran soldiers, who had once stood proud on the ramparts, now found their rations as meager as those of the commoners they were ordered to beat and cut down.

The act of killing a foreign invader was one thing, it was clean, defined by duty and the survival of the kingdom they served to. But the act of driving a spear into the ribs of a starving woman who had, only weeks before, cheered for them, or cutting down a old man who threw nothing but curses... this was a poison that seeped into their souls.

The weight of their own people’s dying stares became heavier than their armor. First in ones and twos, then in small, shamefaced groups, they began to lay down their arms, or worse, turn them against their officers. The riots were no longer just the desperate uprising of the hungry, they were becoming a civil war within the city’s very defense force.

Of course, this suffering was a foreign country to King Rudravarman IV, General Darsaka, and their gilded circle. While the city starved, the palace feasts continued, the aromas of spiced meats and sweet wines a cruel mockery carried on the wind to the barren markets.

Darsaka, in particular, found a new and despicable currency in the famine. His depravity, once confined to the conscripted ”soldiers,” now expanded its reach. He would have his lieutenants scour the desperate quarters, offering promises of full bellies to families with pretty daughters.

These women, driven by the need to save a parent or a sibling or a friend, would be brought to him, their hope a tool for his pleasure. He would play the generous lord, offering them delicacies from his own plate, only to demand payment in the most degrading ways.

And once he was sated, the promises would evaporate. They were tossed from his chambers with nothing, often with threats against their families if they spoke a word. The betrayal was a sharper wound than any lash, and the whispers of his crimes spread through the city like a contagion, fueling a rage that was colder and more determined than the earlier, hunger driven panic.

Each victim he discarded added fuel to the fire already burning in Vijaya’s heart. Whispers spread from market ruins to the slums, from soldier’s barracks to temple courtyards. ”They eat while we starve.” ”They feast on our suffering.” ”The gods have turned away.”

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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