Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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”I am suggesting survival!” Yan Pu shot back, his voice rising. ”And reason! History is not written by the loyal dead, General Zhang, General Yang. It is written by the victorious living! Who do you think will be writing the history of this year? Cao Cao, hiding behind the walls of Tong Pass, his heir apparent in chains? Or Lie Fan, who holds almost the entire land and marches on the remaining ones he haven’t got control of?”

Yang Ang hearing that have his voice become higher. ”So yin the wend you wanted our lord’s names to be spat upon!”

”Our lord’s name will be bismearch and forgotten if we die for a lost cause!” Yan Pu countered fiercely. ”Think! Years ago, I counseled surrender to Cao Cao. Why? Because he controlled the north and east. He was the rising sun. We were vulnerable, fighting Liu Zhang. It was the smart move for survival. And it worked! We saved Hanzhong. Now, look! The sun has set on Wei. A new sun has risen in the east, and its light is blinding. To cling to the shadow now is not loyalty, it is suicide. The people are suffering. The city is being torn apart. For what? For a Emperor who cannot even save his own blood?”

The argument raged, the ideals of martial honor clashing with the cold pragmatism of preservation. Zhang Lu listened, his eyes closed, the voices of his subordinates washing over him.

He thought of his followers, the tens of thousands of civilians in the city, the granaries that would be looted, the temples that would be desecrated in a final, sacking storm.

Finally, he raised a hand. The hall fell silent.

He looked at Yan Pu, his eyes weary. ”Is this truly the only path left to us, Yan Pu? To surrender the keys of the city to Hengyuan?”

Yan Pu met his gaze squarely, nodding. ”It is, my Lord. Not just a path, but the right path. If we surrender now, while the city is still largely intact, while our army is still a coherent force, we have something to offer. We become contributors to the new order, not stubborn stains to be scrubbed away. Lie Fan has shown mercy tp those who wanted to and he have shown other kind of mercy in Hongnong.”

”He has treated high value prisoners with respect. He rewards competence. If we wait until the walls are bathed in our blood and the gates are splinters, we are worth nothing. We surrender as beggars, not as vassals.”

The logic was merciless, and it was correct. Zhang Lu felt the last vestiges of resistance drain from him. He had fought for stability, for a place for his people. That place would not be found in the ashes of a defiant last stand for a dead empire.

He sighed, a long, shuddering exhalation that seemed to deflate him. ”Then... do what must be done.”

”My Lord!” Zhang Wei and Yang Ang cried out in unison, stepping forward.

”The decision is made!” Zhang Lu’s voice cracked like a whip, a final flare of authority. ”My duty is to the living, not to the ghosts of a fallen house. Yan Pu, you have my authority. Secure the surrender.”

Yan Pu bowed deeply, a mix of relief and solemn duty on his face. ”At once, my Lord.” He turned and barked orders to guards at the door. ”Run to the armories, the gatehouses! Hoist the white banners on every tower! The order is to stand down! All Wei troops are to lay down their arms. Those who resist... disarm them by force if necessary. We end this now.”

Meanwhile, on the walls, the battle had reached a fever pitch. Yan Yan and Zhang Ren were moments from storming the gatehouse. Meng Huo’s roars echoed as he chased a cluster of defenders down a parapet. The end was a bloody, minute by minute affair.

Then, a strange ripple went through the Wei lines. A hesitation. Shouts of confusion, then of anger. From the highest towers of the inner keep, stark white banners began to unfurl, flapping limply in the smoke filled breeze.

Orders bellowed by Hanzhong officers, their officers, echoed along the wall. ”Stand down! Lay down your arms! By order of the Governor, surrender!”

For the veteran Wei soldiers embedded with the defense, it was the ultimate betrayal. Some threw down their weapons in disgust, spitting curses. Others, fueled by a final, desperate loyalty to the distant Cao Cao, refused.

Scuffles broke out, not between besieger and besieged, but between surrendering Hanzhong troops and defiant Wei holdouts. It was a brief, ugly spasm of internal conflict, quickly quelled as Hanzhong guards and soldiers overwhelmed and disarmed their former allies.

From his command post, Fa Zheng watched the sudden, unexpected shift with narrowed eyes. The white flags were unmistakable. The coordinated cessation of resistance from specific sections of the wall was not a trick; it was an organized capitulation.

”Cease attack,” he ordered, his voice cutting through the din of the command staff. ”Sound the halt. Archers, hold. Engines, stand ready but do not fire.”

The order echoed down the line. The relentless pounding of the trebuchets stopped. The hail of arrows from the hwachas ceased.

An eerie, relative quiet descended, broken only by the moans of the wounded and the shouted commands from within Hanzhong to surrender.

Fa Zheng exchanged a glance with Meng Da. ”A negotiated surrender. Before the final breach. Smart.” He gestured. ”Mount up. We will accept it personally.”

They rode down to the forward lines, where Yan Yan, Zhang Ren, and the others had gathered, their weapons still bloody but held at the ready, confusion and wary triumph on their faces.

The massive gates of Hanzhong, scarred and battered but still standing, groaned open, not broken inwards by a ram, but pushed outwards by the hands of the defenders.

Through the gate marched a procession led by Yan Pu, his hands empty and raised. Behind him came Zhang Wei and Yang Ang, their faces dark with shame but their steps firm, followed by a contingent of unarmed Hanzhong officers.

Fa Zheng reined in his horse before them. The air was thick with tension and the metallic scent of blood.

Yan Pu bowed deeply. ”Master Fa Zheng, Chief Strategist of the Southern Army of the Hengyuan Dynasty. I am Yan Pu, advisor to Governor Zhang Lu. On behalf of the Governor and the people of Hanzhong, I present to you the city’s surrender. We lay down our arms and submit to the authority of Emperor Hongyi. We ask for mercy, and offer our services in securing a peaceful transition.”

Fa Zheng dismounted, his movements calm and deliberate. He looked past Yan Pu, into the smoky street beyond the gate, assessing. ”Your surrender is accepted,” he said, his voice carrying authority. ”The mercy of the Emperor is extended to all who do not resist. You have spared your city much suffering. That will be remembered.”

He turned to Meng Da. ”Have the generals secure the gates. Disarm all soldiers peacefully. Have our troops occupy key positions, granaries, armories, government buildings. No looting. No violence against civilians. The war for Hanzhong is over.”

As the Hengyuan soldiers began to move in, a wave of exhausted relief seemed to flow out of the city. The siege was over. The pincer from the south had secured its jaw. The road to Chang’an now lay open, its first major obstacle not just taken, but handed over.

The fall of Hanzhong was not a military conquest alone, it was a political collapse, a sign that even those who had once bowed to Cao Cao now saw the future, and it wore the dragon emblem of the Hengyuan Dynasty. The noose around the neck of Wei had just been pulled another critical notch tighter.

Fa Zheng did not rush the procession.

That alone said much.

The city had fallen, but it had not been trampled. The banners of Hengyuan now flew from the walls, yet the streets below were not drowned in screams or flame. Instead, there was a stunned quiet, doors half open, citizens peering out with hollow eyes, watching armored soldiers pass in disciplined lines, weapons lowered, formations tight, faces stern but restrained.

Elite troops surrounded the column like a moving wall of steel.

Zhang Ren and Yan Yan rode close to Fa Zheng, their expressions unreadable. Neither spoke. For both men, Hanzhong was an old wound, one that had never fully healed.

Yan Pu led the way, walking rather than riding, his back straight despite his age. Zhang Wei and Yang Ang followed, their hands clenched, their pride bruised but intact. They were warriors who had not been defeated in battle, but by reality.

Ahead, rising above the clustered rooftops and smoke stained towers, stood the Governor’s Castle.

When they arrived at the Governor’s Castle, its gates already opened by its own guards. In the main hall, stripped of its martial bustle, Zhang Lu awaited them.

He stood from the ornate chair that was no longer a true seat of power, but a piece of furniture in a negotiated transition. His face was pale, his eyes shadowed, but he held himself with a dignity that refused to crumble completely.

”Master Fa Zheng,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady. ”Generals Zhang, Yan. Welcome to Hanzhong. Please, be seated.” He gestured to chairs that had been arranged opposite his own.

Fa Zheng gave a shallow, cordial bow of acknowledgment. ”Governor Zhang. We accept your hospitality.” He took a seat, his movements economical.

Zhang Ren and Yan Yan followed, their greetings little more than curt nods. The history here was personal and bitter, these were the men who had led Liu Zhang’s armies against Zhang Lu in the wars for Yi Province.

The past hung in the air like old gunpowder smoke, but the present, with hundreds of Hengyuan troops just outside the door, made it irrelevant.

Zhang Lu seemed to sense their stiffness but chose to ignore it. He was playing a longer game now, the game of survival. He clapped his hands, and nervous maids emerged with a tea service. The ritual of serving tea in the midst of surrender was a surreal attempt at normalcy, a thread of civilization grasped at in the ruins of sovereignty.

As the fragrant steam rose between them, Fa Zheng cut to the heart of the matter. His voice was calm, analytical. ”Governor, you have surrendered the city peacefully. This act has value. Now, we discuss terms. Speak your conditions. I will convey them to His Majesty. He is a pragmatic ruler. Reasonable terms, within the bounds of the new reality, have a strong chance of being accepted.”

Zhang Lu’s eyes flickered to Yan Pu, who gave an almost imperceptible nod of encouragement. The governor took a slow breath.

”My terms... are simple. I do not seek great wealth or lofty, empty titles. I ask only two things. First, that I remain as Governor of Hanzhong, to administer this land and its people, who know and follow me. And second, that my sect, the Way of the Five Pecks of Rice, be allowed to continue its teachings and practices without persecution. Our faith is one of peace and community. We seek only to tend to our followers.”

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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