Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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(A/N: Don’t forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)

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Wielding his twin, impossibly heavy iron halberds, Dian Wei became a localized hurricane of blunt force trauma. He swung his weapons in massive, horizontal arcs, physically smashing through the raised wooden shields of the Wei infantry.

The sheer kinetic force behind his blows was unnatural, shields splintered into kindling, and the men holding them were thrown backward through the air, their ribs crushed, their armor caved in. Where Dian Wei stepped, the Wei line simply ceased to exist, replaced by a slippery, horrifying carpet of mangled bodies.

To Dian Wei’s right, utilizing the agonizingly narrow bridgehead to its maximum lethal potential, was Taishi Ci. If Dian Wei was a sledgehammer, Taishi Ci was a scalpel. He flowed through the chaotic melee with a terrifying, fluid grace, his twin hand rod hammers weaving a blinding web of steel.

He ducked under wild spear thrusts, stepping inside the guard of the desperate Wei conscripts, and delivered precise, decapitating strikes or severing cuts to the unarmored backs of their knees. His movements were so fast, so perfectly calculated, that he seemed to be fighting a dozen men at once without ever taking a hit.

And orchestrating the slaughter at the primary breach was Zhang Liao. The ’Wolf of Hengyuan’ fought with a manic, joyous intensity that deeply unsettled the men facing him. His heavy halberd rose and fell in devastating, sweeping cuts. But Zhang Liao was not just fighting; he was commanding.

”Push them back! Do not let them form a wall!” Zhang Liao roared, parrying a thrust and driving his armored boot into a Wei captain’s chest, sending the man tumbling over the parapet to the courtyard below. ”Second Company, secure the left flank of the bridge! Third Company, widen the perimeter! Bleed them!”

As the Hengyuan elites swarmed over the Climbing Tigers, the true, horrifying scale of Lie Fan’s talent pool revealed itself. It was not just the vanguard commanders who scaled the walls, it was an entire pantheon of martial legends.

From the siege tower on the northern flank, a massive, imposing figure stepped onto the wall, his long, beautiful beard whipping in the smoky wind. Guan Yu had arrived. Wielding his legendary Green Dragon Crescent Blade, the warrior did not run, he strode forward with a majestic, terrifying arrogance.

He swung the massive polearm with effortless power, the heavy blade humming as it cut through the air. With a single, sweeping strike, Guan Yu cleanly cleaved through the overlapping shields and armor of four Wei heavy infantrymen, bisecting them completely.

The surrounding Wei soldiers fell back in sheer, unadulterated terror, unable to comprehend the martial dominance they were witnessing.

Right behind him, moving like a coiled spring released, was Zhang Fei. The brash, explosive warrior let out a bellowing roar that sounded like a peal of thunder, physically staggering the men in front of him.

His Serpent Spear darted forward with blinding speed, striking with the explosive force of a coiled viper. He thrust, parried, and swept, his spear creating a zone of absolute death around him.

​”Is there no one here who can fight?!” Zhang Fei roared, laughing maniacally as he kicked a dying soldier off his blade. ”Bring me a real opponent!”

​From the southern siege towers, the veterans of Shu and the southern jungles added their own unique brands of devastation to the Wei defenses.

Meng Huo, entirely ignoring the concept of heavy armor, utilized his raw, bear-like strength to physically pick up Wei soldiers and hurl them over the battlements into the burning city below.

Yan Yan and Zhang Ren, moving with the disciplined, lethal synergy of lifelong comrades, systematically dismantled the Wei defensive formations, their precise spear and guandao strikes finding every gap, every weakness in the enemy lines.

​And pouring up the central ladders, moving in absolute, terrifying silence, were the Camp Crushers. Led by the stoic, mechanical Gao Shun, this elite unit of heavy infantry moved in perfect lockstep.

They did not shout battle cries, they simply marched forward, their heavy tower shields forming an impenetrable moving wall, their short swords thrusting in rhythmic, synchronized lethality. They ground the Wei defenders into the stone, an unstoppable glacier of black iron.

​The brutality of the fighting was absolute. The parapets of the inner fortress quickly turned into a slippery, gruesome slaughterhouse. The air was thick with the copper stench of blood, the smell of voided bowels, and the metallic screech of tearing armor.

Men fought eye to eye, slipping on the entrails of their comrades, resorting to biting and gouging when their weapons were lost or shattered. It was a grinding, agonizing war of inches, fought in the suffocating heat of the burning capital.

​But the Wei Dynasty, though broken and bleeding, was not yet dead.

​Seeing his men being systematically butchered, witnessing the sheer, overwhelming talent of the Hengyuan generals carving up his defensive lines, Xiahou Dun let out a roar of pure, venomous fury. He drew his heavy broadsword and charged directly into the teeth of the Hengyuan assault.

​”To me! Rally to me, men of Wei!” Xiahou Dun bellowed, his single eye blazing with a fanatical, suicidal defiance. ”Push them back into the fire!”

​Xiahou Dun threw himself at the central breach, colliding violently with Zhang Liao. The two master commanders crossed weapons, the impact of Xiahou Dun’s glaive against Zhang Liao’s halberd sending a shower of bright orange sparks into the smoky air.

Xiahou Dun fought like a cornered tiger, his strikes fueled by pure rage and the desperate knowledge that this was their final stand. He rained heavy, punishing blows down upon Zhang Liao, forcing the Hengyuan general to raise his guard and brace his footing.

​”Your dynasty is dead, one eye!” Zhang Liao taunted, deflecting a heavy downward chop and spinning to deliver a horizontal slash aimed at Xiahou Dun’s ribs.

​”It lives as long as I breathe!” Xiahou Dun roared back, twisting his body to take the glancing blow on his heavy breastplate, instantly retaliating with a thrust toward Zhang Liao’s throat.

​The duel was a breathtaking display of raw power versus aggressive finesse, but neither man yielded an inch of stone.

​Inspired by their Grand Marshal’s fearless charge, the remaining top tier generals of the Wei army threw themselves into the fray, desperate to stem the bleeding and hold the walls.

​Xu Huang, his massive great axe already slick with gore, pushed through the panicked ranks of his own men and intercepted the rampaging Zhang Fei.

​”You scream too much, loudmouth!” Xu Huang grunted, swinging his massive axe in a wide, devastating arc meant to cleave Zhang Fei in two.

​Zhang Fei laughed, a booming, joyous sound, and brought his Serpent Spear up to block. The impact of the great axe against the thick wooden shaft of the spear cracked like a thunderbolt, shaking the stone beneath their boots.

Zhang Fei’s immense physical strength absorbed the blow, and he instantly countered, his spear tip darting toward Xu Huang’s exposed face. Xu Huang pulled his head back just in time, the blade leaving a shallow, bleeding scratch across his cheek.

The two behemoths locked into a brutal, grinding duel, their raw power threatening to crush any regular soldier foolish enough to step too close.

​Further down the line, the majestic Guan Yu found his path blocked by a wall of heavy shields commanded by Pang De and the elegant Zhang He.

​”Step aside, fools,” Guan Yu commanded, his voice deep and resonant, radiating an aura of absolute superiority. ”You face Guan Yunchang. Surrender, and your lives will be spared.”

​”Wei does not surrender to traitors!” Pang De roared, his loyalty absolute, his courage unshakable. He charged forward, his heavy twin halberds raised, attempting to lock Guan Yu’s massive blade.

​Zhang He, moving with characteristic fluid grace, flanked Guan Yu, his spear darting forward like a striking snake, aiming for the joints in Guan Yu’s green scaled armor.

​But Guan Yu was a god among men. He did not retreat. He twisted his body, allowing Zhang He’s spear to glance harmlessly off his heavy pauldron, while simultaneously bringing the haft of his Crescent Blade up to parry Pang De’s aggressive strike.

With a powerful, contemptuous shove, Guan Yu forced Pang De backward, then spun his blade in a blindingly fast arc, forcing Zhang He to leap backward to avoid being decapitated.

​”You have spirit,” Guan Yu noted coldly, his eyes narrowing. ”But spirit does not stop steel.”

​He advanced, his sweeping, flawless strikes pressing both Pang De and Zhang He onto the defensive. The two Wei generals were phenomenal warriors in their own right, but facing the sheer, overwhelming martial perfection of Guan Yu required every ounce of their concentration and skill just to survive his onslaught.

​Nearby, Taishi Ci and Chen Dao engaged in a dizzying, high speed duel with Cao Xiu and Cao Chun. The Wei cavalry commanders, fighting on foot, were forced to rely on their swordsmanship and shields. They fought with desperate, coordinated synchronization, trying to overwhelm the Hengyuan generals with combined strikes.

But Taishi Ci’s twin rod hammers were too fast, too unpredictable, and Chen Dao’s relentless, disciplined pressure left them no room to breathe.

​Gao Lan and Yu Jin desperately tried to plug the gaps created by Gao Shun’s silent Camp Crushers, but their tactical commands were drowned out by the screams of the dying and the relentless, rhythmic marching of the Hengyuan elites.

They found themselves fighting a losing battle of attrition, their defensive lines buckling under the mechanical, emotionless slaughter of the Trapped Camp.

​And high above the chaos, providing lethal, undeniable overwatch, was Huang Zhong. The old tiger had not scaled the walls, he had positioned himself atop the highest platform of a Climbing Tiger, entirely exposed to enemy fire, but completely unbothered.

​With Xiahou Yuan removed from the battlefield, there was not a single archer in the Wei army who could challenge him. Huang Zhong stood with his massive composite bow, firing with terrifying, metronomic precision. Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.

Every time a Wei heavy crossbowman tried to take aim at Lie Fan’s dueling generals, an arrow with white fletching buried itself in their skull. Every time a Wei officer tried to rally a broken formation, Huang Zhong silenced them permanently.

He was an angel of death, pinning the Wei defenders down, ensuring that the Hengyuan generals could press their overwhelming advantage without fear of coordinated ranged reprisals.

​The battle upon the inner fortress wall raged with an intensity that defied description. It was a clash of titans, a brutal, desperate struggle for the soul of the continent.

​The Wei generals fought with the ferocity of cornered animals. They fought for their homes, for their pride, and for the survival of their dying dynasty. They parried, they dodged, they struck back with everything they had.

​But the reality of the situation was painfully, horrifyingly clear. The Hengyuan army simply possessed an insurmountable surplus of martial talent. For every Xiahou Dun, there was a Zhang Liao and a Dian Wei. For every Xu Huang, there was a Zhang Fei and a Guan Yu. The sheer density of legends fighting under the Black Dragon banner was suffocating.

​Despite their heroic, desperate resistance, no Hengyuan general had taken a serious wound. The Wei commanders were being pushed backward, step by bloody step.

Their muscles burned, their breath came in ragged gasps, and their armor was chipped and dented. They were executing flawless parries, surviving by the skin of their teeth, holding the line through sheer, agonizing willpower, but they were losing the initiative.

​The Hengyuan generals were pressing the attack, their strikes growing heavier, their smiles growing wider. They could taste the victory. The dam was cracking. The Wei defense was bending to the absolute breaking point. No top tier general had fallen yet, but the air was thick with the inevitable promise that soon, the blood of legends would stain the ancient stones of Chang’an.

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Name: Lie Fan

Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty

Age: 36 (203 AD)

Level: 16

Next Level: 462,000

Renown: 2325

Cultivation: Yin Yang Separation (level 11)

SP: 1,121,700

ATTRIBUTE POINTS

STR: 1,010 (+20)

VIT: 659 (+20)

AGI: 653 (+10)

INT: 691

CHR: 98

WIS: 569

WILL: 436

ATR Points: 0