Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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Zhang Ren nodded, sipping water from a skin. ”The coordination of our assaults broke their command. They were reacting, not directing. The goat path, the mountain attack... they had no answer. They are relying on the stone itself, not on clever tactics.”

Fa Zheng leaned over the map, his finger tracing from Jianmen Pass westward. ”The pass will fall. It is now a matter of logistics and patience, not possibility. Our concern shifts to what comes after.”

His finger tapped two points. ”Wudu. And the passes to Hanzhong. Once we break through here, we do not charge blindly toward Chang’an. That would stretch us thin and make us vulnerable.”

Meng Da picked up the thread, his mind already on administration. ”We take Wudu first. A major town, a supply hub. Secure it. Then, we move to secure the approaches to Hanzhong. We make these two places our anvil. We consolidate. We bring in civilian administrators from Zitong and Chengdu to organize the local populace, show them the benefits of imperial rule, order, fair taxes, and security from bandits. We conquer the small towns and villages around these hubs, not with fire, but with promises of stability.”

”A foothold,” Fa Zheng summarized. ”A solid, expanding foothold in Cao Cao’s rear. While His Majesty squeezes him in Hongnong, we slowly digest his territory from the south and west. The news alone, spreading through his remaining domains, will cause panic. Soldiers will desert, thinking their homes are under threat.”

”Local officials will question their loyalty. Cao Cao will be forced to split his attention, his intelligence, his dwindling resources. It is a slower strategy than a mad dash, but it is a death by a thousand cuts, and it leaves us with a secure base, not a vulnerable salient.”

The plan was set. They would grind down Jianmen Pass with the same relentless, multi faceted pressure, and then they would build, not just burn. The war was entering a new phase, expansion and consolidation.

Meanwhile, the rider from Jianmen Pass was living a nightmare of endurance. He had changed horses at every waystation, swallowing dust and fear in equal measure. The image of the collapsing western platform, the alien war cries from the mountains, and the sea of enemy banners were burned into his mind.

He bypassed Hanzhong, seeing its gates shut tight, its own garrison no doubt trembling at the news he carried. He pounded through the night, the lights of Chang’An a blurred, indifferent constellation to his north. His world narrowed to the rhythm of hooves and the desperate need to deliver his message.

Two days after fleeing the siege, he finally saw the ominous, smoke wreathed silhouette of Hongnong on the horizon. He was waved through the western gate after a frantic, shouted identification, his horse stumbling with exhaustion. He was half led, half dragged to the Governor’s Castle, the heart of Cao Cao’s dwindling realm.

In the main hall, the air was thick with a fatigue deeper than any siegework could produce. Cao Cao sat, looking older than his years, listening to another circular debate between Xun Yu and Guo Jia about rationing grain and managing civilian morale.

Xi Zhicai, Jia Kui, Cheng Yu, and Tian Feng looked on, their faces etched with the strain of a prolonged, losing battle. Xu You lingered in the shadows, his usual slyness replaced by a sullen worry.

The captain of the guard entered, bowing low. ”Your Majesty, please forgive the intrusion. An urgent messenger from Jianmen Pass have arrived. He bears vital news from the south.”

The conversation died instantly. A cold, silent dread filled the room, heavier than the smoke from the fires outside.

They didn’t need to hear the message, the mere fact of a rushed messenger from the south spelled doom. Cao Cao closed his eyes for a brief second, then opened them, his gaze weary but steady. ”Send him in.”

The messenger stumbled in, his uniform filthy, his face pale with dust and exhaustion. He fell to his knees. ”Y... Your Majesty! Please forgive my state... Jianmen Pass... it is under attack by the Hengyuan Army in Yi Province!”

He poured out the full story in ragged bursts, the impossible size of the army, the monstrous siege engines, the coordinated assault from all sides, the collapse of the western defenses, the savages in the mountains.

”The commander... he begs for reinforcement, Your Majesty! He said you promised! The pass cannot hold on long without them!”

The plea hung in the silent hall. Cao Cao let out a long, slow sigh, the sound of a man feeling the last walls of his world closing in. ”A week ago... even a few days ago... perhaps we could have send the scraped division we made. Sent them to Jianmen Pass.” He shook his head, a gesture of profound resignation. ”But now, not anymore.”

The messenger’s head jerked up, confusion and dawning horror on his face when he heard that. ”But... why not, Your Majesty? The pass is the key to the west! If it falls—”

”It falls because Lie Fan is here,” Guo Jia interrupted, his voice weak but razor sharp. He gestured vaguely toward the eastern walls. ”He did not just bring himself for a tour. He brought fresh armies of sixty thousand men. Our every man is committed here, bleeding against his renewed assaults.”

”And two days ago...” Guo Jia’s voice faltered for a moment, ”...Generals Cao Hong and Cao Ren were captured on the wall. We are besieged, outnumbered, and now bereft of two of our strongest. There are no reinforcements to send. There are only men trying to keep Hongnong from falling tomorrow.”

The messenger’s face went from pale to ashen. The implications crashed down on him. The frantic ride, the hope of relief, it had all been for nothing. He was not requesting aid, he was delivering a death notice for the entire western front.

”Then... then Jianmen Pass...” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. ”If it falls... Wudu... Hanzhong... even the capital Chang’An itself...” The unthinkable chain of dominoes played out in his terrified mind. ”The Imperial family...”

Cao Cao stood up slowly, the weight of the empire seeming to bow his shoulders. He walked to a window, looking out at his embattled city. ”The Imperial family,” he repeated softly, almost to himself.

Then he turned back, his eyes finding the messenger, not with anger, but with a terrible, clear eyed finality. ”Tell your commander... to hold as long as honor demands. Then, he is to save as many of his men as he can. Fall back to Wudu. Then to Hanzhong. Make them fight for every inch. But tell him... no help is coming from the east. The battle for the heartland is here. And we are facing a possibility of losing it.”

The message was not just for the commander of Jianmen Pass. It was an admission, spoken aloud in the heart of his last stronghold. The vise that Fa Zheng was so meticulously constructing in the south was not just a military threat, it was the sound of the trap’s second jaw clicking into place, and in the quiet of the hall, every advisor heard it.

The war was no longer just at the gates of Hongnong. It was in their rear, in their homes, and in the desperate, fading hope in the messenger’s eyes as he absorbed the scale of their impending ruin.

The messenger was half carried from the hall, his legs no longer fully obeying him now that the frantic purpose driving him had been stripped away. Cao Cao waved a hand without looking, a curt order for him to be given food, water, and a place to collapse into sleep.

The heavy doors of the hall swung shut behind the messenger, but the silence he left in his wake was thicker, more suffocating than before. The confirmation of the southern assault wasn’t just news, it was a verdict.

The last avenue of potential relief had been sealed, and with it, the final, faint hope that had flickered in the hearts of even the most stalwart advisors guttered and died. Outside, the distant rumble of siege engines and shouted commands bled faintly through the walls, a reminder that even here, at the heart of command, there was no sanctuary.

For a long moment, Cao Cao simply stood by the window, his back to the room, his shoulders rigid. The dusty, smoke hazed view of his dying city seemed to hold some final, bitter truth.

Then, with a violent, sudden motion that made everyone jump, he swept the jade wine cup from the small table beside him. The cup of wine then flew across the hall and shattered against the stone floor, crimson liquid splashing like blood across the polished tiles.

The sound rang sharp and final, echoing against the pillars. No one flinched. No one spoke. They had all learned, over long years, when the storm was too close to interrupt.

Cao Cao did not shout. He did not curse. He simply stood there, chest rising and falling as he fought for control. His fingers curled slowly, then loosened, then clenched again. His other hand came up to his temple, pressing hard, as if he could physically push the pain back into submission.

The headache was there again. A familiar, merciless pressure behind the eyes, blooming outward like a threat whispered directly to his mortality. He breathed through his nose, slow and deliberate, forcing his mind away from the abyss it so often circled. He had no luxury to collapse. Not now. Not ever.

Slowly, deliberately, Cao Cao began to take deep, measured breaths, his head bowed. The fight was visible in the tremor of his arms, the rigid set of his neck. He was wrestling the demon inside, forcing calm upon the tempest of rage, despair, and physical agony. The room held its collective breath.

Xun Yu watched him closely, the lines on his own face deepening with concern. At last, when Cao Cao’s breathing steadied enough to suggest he was not about to fall, Xun Yu stepped forward and bowed deeply. ”Your Majesty.”

Cao Cao did not turn, but his breathing hitched slightly, an indication he was listening.

”This humble servant has a thought,” Xun Yu continued, his voice respectful but firm. ”A suggestion that may... alleviate the pressure from the south. But it would require a significant sacrifice. A profound one.”

Cao Cao slowly turned around. The rage was gone from his eyes, banked beneath a surface of terrifying, ice cold focus. The headache, for now, was held at bay. ”Speak, Wenruo. At this point, sacrifice is just another word for cost. And we are drowning in costs. What is your thought?”

Xun Yu inhaled quietly. He had known the cost of his words before speaking them, had wrestled with them long before this hall fell silent. Even so, saying them aloud felt like cutting into living flesh.

”We can recall the armies sent to the Gansu Corridor and the Qinghai Plateau,” he said. ”All of them. The expeditionary forces. We abandon those lands entirely, for now. They return east. We consolidate. Those hundreds of thousands of soldiers could be redirected toward Jianmen Pass.”

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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