Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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Behind him, the Champa Auxiliaries Unit spread out, speaking in calm tones, restraining the angriest men and separating the instigators. Then came the Shi Clan soldiers, disciplined, silent, and unyielding. They didn’t raise their swords but stood shoulder to shoulder, forming a wall between the rioters and their prey.

The contrast was stark, the chaos of the mob against the calm order of soldiers who had seen war and still chosen restraint.

The crowd began to falter.

And when one of the Champa Auxiliaries soldiers shouted, ”We are free now! Do not stain that freedom with shame!” a murmur of agreement rose.

Slowly, painfully, the rage ebbed. People dropped the jewelry and food they had stolen, looking down at their hands as though only now realizing what they had been holding. Some began to sob. Others simply walked away, shoulders hunched.

The ones who had incited the riot, the men who had pushed for looting and worse, grew desperate, shouting again for violence. ”You’re cowards!” one spat. ”You’d protect the same scum that chained us!” But the Auxiliaries were ready. They moved swiftly, subduing the agitators, binding their wrists, dragging them from the crowd to stand trial later.

By the time the sun began to set, order had been restored.

Outside the palace gates, the air was quieter, heavy with exhaustion but calmer. Smoke drifted from the distant fires, and the cries of joy and grief mingled into something like peace.

Inside the palace, Shi Xin, Shi Zhi, Shi Hui, and Po Kandar stood in the grand hall, overseeing the clean up of what was once the heart of tyranny.

The bodies of Rudravarman’s advisors, generals, and remaining loyal guards were being removed, the blood scrubbed from the marble floors. Lady Mai and the surviving concubines had been taken to safety, to the royal garden, where the gentle sound of water and wind through leaves provided a fragile calm after horror while being tended to by medics.

When the report came in, that another riot had nearly broken out, Po Kandar’s face darkened. Shi Xin read the written message, frowning.

”They tried to loot the noble houses?” he asked quietly.

Po Kandar nodded grimly. ”They’ve suffered too long. Their anger is blind now. They want revenge more than peace.”

Shi Zhi sighed, running a gauntleted hand through his hair. ”It’s no surprise. Hatred doesn’t die with a king.”

Shi Hui crossed his arms. ”No, but it can be guided. If the Auxiliaries soldiers hadn’t acted, the whole city might have burned itself down again.”

Shi Xin exhaled slowly and nodded. ”Anger is a simple emotion. Governance, justice... these are complex. We have cut off the head of the serpent, but its venom still courses through the body.”

He looked around the throne room, his gaze lingering on the vacant, ornate chair. ”Po Kandar, your men did well. But this shows us how fragile the peace is. We must consolidate Vijaya, and all of Champa, with haste. The people need stability. They need a government they can trust. Most of all,” he said, turning his gaze to Po Kandar, ”they need a new king. A ruler of their own blood, who understands their suffering and has their best interests at heart. A man the people can trust implicitly.”

Po Kandar’s eyes widened slightly. ”A new king...”

Po had a solem expression. He understood the unspoken truth that hung in the air. The Hengyuan Emperor had sent the Shi Clan to conquer Champa as a vassal, not to annex them as a new province outright. As a pacified Champa, stable and grateful, was far more valuable than a conquered and resentful one.

However, left entirely to its own devices, it could easily slide back into chaos or, worse, become a target for another power. The Emperor would surely prefer Champa as a protectorate, a loyal, dependent state that could be gradually guided, its resources and loyalty slowly woven into the fabric of the Hengyuan Dynasty. The appointment of the right king was the key to this delicate balance.

Shi Xin meanwhile nodded again. ”Yes. Someone who understands their suffering, someone they can rally behind. Someone who will rebuild, not rule from greed or fear.”

Po Kandar lowered his head. ”There are few in this city fit for such a task. Most who held power served Rudravarman.”

”Then we must look among those who didn’t,” Shi Hui said suddenly, leaning forward. ”And I believe we have already found the perfect candidate. A man trusted by the soldiers, respected by the people for his role in their liberation, and one who has proven his wisdom and honor in our councils

Shi Xin turned, raising an eyebrow. ”Oh? And who do you propose, brother?”

Shi Hui’s smile was faint but knowing. ”Why, Po Kandar himself.”

Po Kandar blinked, stunned. ”Me?”

Shi Zhi chuckled softly. ”You’ve already been leading your people in everything but name, Commander. You were their voice during the siege, their shield during the uprising. Who better than you to lead them now?”

Po Kandar, who never thought about such matter, felt as if the floor had fallen away beneath him. His eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated shock. This was a thought that had never, ever crossed his mind.

His loyalty was to Champa, to his men, to the dream of a free and just kingdom. The throne was an abstract concept, a gilded cage he had only ever seen occupied by a monster.

”Generals! No!” The words burst from him as he dropped immediately to one knee, his head bowed low. ”This... this is not possible! I am a soldier, a commander of men, nothing more! I have no royal blood, no claim, no... no thought of such a station! I beg you, reconsider! I am not worthy of such an honor, and I am certainly not the perfect choice. My place is in the field, serving the true king of Champa, not... not sitting on his throne!” His voice was thick with a mixture of panic and genuine humility.

Shi Xin smiled faintly, his tone gentle but firm. ”And perhaps that is exactly why you are worthy. The worst kings are those who crave crowns. The best are those who wear them only because their people need them to.”

Po Kandar bowed his head deeply, emotion thick in his throat. ”Even if that were true... I am not the one to decide it. The people of Champa must choose, not me.”

Shi Xin placed a hand on his shoulder. ”Rise, my friend,” he said, his voice firm but kind. ”This is not a command, nor is it a decision to be made in this moment, amidst the ghosts of the fallen. We have time to discuss this matter fully. And as for your worthiness?”

Shi Xin’s gaze was steady. ”That is not for you to judge. It is for the people of Champa to decide. And ultimately, it is for the Emperor of the Hengyuan Dynasty to confirm. Your journey, it seems, is far from over.”

The weight of those words settled upon Po Kandar as he slowly, hesitantly, rose to his feet, his eyes glistening. ”Then I will serve as the people need me to, whether as a soldier or... as something more.”

Shi Xin nodded approvingly. ”That is all any good ruler can promise.”

As the discussion continued, the first signs of dawn crept through the shattered palace windows. The city outside was quiet, the fires extinguished, the air heavy with the smell of wet ash and morning dew.

And far away, far beyond the borders of Champa, the ripples of this victory reached distant lands.

Far to the northeast, in the secure and ancient city of Chengdu, capital of the Han court, the air was thick with a different kind of tension, one masked by the lavish aromas of a victory feast.

The grand hall glittered with light. Emperor Xian, the nominal ruler of a fractured empire, sat upon his dais, a mask of serene gratitude fixed upon his face. Beside him, Liu Zhang, the Governor of Yi Province, beamed with genuine relief. Before them stood Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, Meng Da, Zhang Ren, Yan Yan, and Meng Huo, the heroes who had repelled the Wei invasion at Zitong.

Wine flowed, music filled the air, and laughter rolled beneath the high ceiling beams. The banners of Han fluttered proudly over the tables.

But even amid the celebration, Emperor Xian’s eyes betrayed unease.

He smiled and raised his cup, congratulating his generals on their victory, but inside, suspicion gnawed at him. The retreat of Cao Cao’s army had been too sudden, too clean. It was not the Wei warlord’s nature to withdraw without a reason. Victory felt... too easy.

Something unseen was at work.

Still, he kept his doubts to himself. He would not question his ministers openly, not Fa Zheng, not Zhang Song, and certainly not Meng Da. They were clever men, and clever men could smell doubt like wolves scenting blood.

As he was in his thought, Liu Zhang, flushed from drink, leaned toward him with a grin. ”Your Majesty,” he said, ”today, heaven itself favors you. Zitong stands free, the enemy in flight! Truly, the Mandate of Heaven rests with you now!”

Emperor Xian nodded politely, raising his cup again. ”Heaven’s will is mysterious,” he said with a practiced smile. ”But I am grateful for loyal men such as yourself, my lord of Yi Province.”

After saying that, Emperor Xian drank the wine and put u Pana act of laughter and pretended to be at ease, though his mind raced elsewhere, to his own secret designs.

He had sent Wu Yi and Wang Fu on a mission known only to him, to seek allies far beyond the lands of China, to the western kingdoms spoken of only in rumor. The ”foreign people,” as the scholars called them, who possessed strange tools and stronger metals, and whose armies, if allied, might one day shatter the hold the warlords had over the empire.

That was his plan, his insurance against the likes of Cao Cao, against the shadows of the Hengyuan Dynasty rising in the east, even against his own ministers who smiled too sweetly. It was a dangerous game he played, one of deception and quiet defiance.

As the feast carried on and the music swelled, Emperor Xian lifted his cup one last time, his gaze distant.

”May Heaven watch over those who fight for their people,” he murmured softly.

And though the feast glittered with laughter and wine, in the heart of Emperor Xian, the flame of ambition burned anew.

Meanwhile, Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, and Meng Da, whose tables sat just below Emperor Xian and Liu Zhang’s position, exchanged quiet glances over their wine cups. The laughter and music of the hall rolled around them, but they were no longer listening. Their eyes, sharp and watchful, remained fixed on the Emperor, who continued to wear that thin mask of calm composure, raising his cup and smiling at every toast like a puppet that had learned how to mimic life.

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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