Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!

____________________________

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

...

Lie Fan meticulously reviewed the extensive integration protocols for the surrendered Wei heavy infantry, ordering them to be broken up and distributed among veteran Hengyuan units to entirely dissolve their previous command structures and prevent any possibility of a unified mutiny.

​Next came Mi Zhu, who presented the staggering ledgers of the Ministry of Revenue. They allocated funds for the renvation of Chang’An and Luoyang, approved massive public works projects to repair the walls, canals, and buildings damaged during the war, and finalized the budget for the upcoming victory celebrations.

​Liu Ye presented ambitious blueprints for new, newly advanced prototypes of Cannons based on the lessons learned at Chang’An, which Lie Fan eagerly approved for immediate prototyping. Chen Gong reviewed the implementation of Hengyuan’s strict legal code in the newly conquered territories, ensuring justice was swift and impartial to win the hearts of the commoners.

​Sima Yi, Zhuge Liang, Pang Tong, Xu Shu, and Lu Xun all presented their respective, highly specialized reports, covering everything from the promotion of junior officers to the intricate maneuvers suggested by them to began pacify the northern tribes borders outside elf the wall.

​Lie Fan was an Emperor of unparalleled stamina, but even his monstrous endurance was tested by the sheer, crushing intellectual weight of governing the world. He was, however, brilliantly supported.

Every time he hesitated on a legal precedent, Chen Gong had the answer. Every time a logistical bottleneck appeared, Xun You or Sima Yi offered a flawless workaround. The men in this room were not just advisors, they were an extension of his own mind.

​Finally, as Lie Fan set his brush down and rubbed his tired eyes, the last bamboo scroll was rolled shut.

​He looked toward the large, open lattice windows of the office. The sun had long since passed its zenith. Judging by the long, sharp angle of the shadow cast by the sundial pillar in the courtyard outside, it was well past three in the afternoon.

​”By the heavens,” Lie Fan exhaled, a weary but deeply satisfied smile touching his lips. He looked at his exhausted but triumphant brain trust. ”We have rebuilt the world in a single sitting.”

​”Your Majesty’s endurance puts us all to shame,” Zhuge Liang noted with a respectful dip of his feather fan, though he himself looked perfectly composed.

​”My endurance is currently demanding sustenance,” Lie Fan laughed, pushing his heavy chair back and standing up. ”Fortunately, I anticipated our zeal. I ordered the Imperial Kitchens to prepare a feast for us hours ago. Come, everyone. Leave the ink and the ledgers. Let us move to the Grand Terrace. We have earned our leisure.”

​The advisors, feeling the heavy burden of the state momentarily lift from their shoulders, gladly followed their Emperor out of the stifling administrative office.

​They walked to the Grand Terrace, a massive, beautifully tiled outdoor pavilion that offered a breathtaking, panoramic view of the sprawling capital city and the shimmering river beyond. The air was cool and incredibly refreshing after hours trapped with the smell of ink and old parchment.

​A long, low banqueting table had been set up beneath the shade of the intricately carved wooden eaves. As Lie Fan and his inner circle took their seats on plush silk cushions, a small army of Imperial Maids moved with silent grace, bringing out an astonishing array of dishes.

There were delicate steamed dumplings, rich, fragrant stews, perfectly roasted fowl glazed in honey, and an abundance of the finest, clearest rice wines and beers the imperial cellars possessed.

​”Eat! Drink!” Lie Fan commanded jovially, raising a small jade cup of wine. ”Today, we celebrate not just the victory of the sword, but the victory of the brush!”

​The atmosphere on the terrace was a perfect, harmonious relaxation after the crazy, intense bureaucratic marathon they had just completed.

The ministers, usually so guarded and formal, allowed themselves to unwind in the presence of their Emperor. They ate heartily, the wine flowing freely, the conversation shifting from tax laws and border security to lighter, more philosophical topics.

​As the afternoon sun began to dip lower, casting a warm, golden hue across the terrace, Lie Fan leaned back on his cushions, feeling a playful, competitive spark ignite.

​”My friends,” Lie Fan announced, swirling the remaining wine in his cup. ”We have spent the day writing laws and moving armies. But we are men of culture as well as men of state. I propose a small, friendly competition to sharpen our minds in a different manner.”

​The advisors looked up, their interest immediately piqued.

​”A poetry competition,” Lie Fan declared, a wide smile on his face. ”The theme can be anything you wish. The current atmosphere of this beautiful terrace, our monumental victory against Wei, the nature of love, the sorrow of war... anything that moves your spirit. We shall all judge, and the man who composes the most satisfying, profound poem or couplet shall receive a personal gift from my own personal treasury.”

​Lie Fan gestured to a nearby eunuch, who carefully unrolled a long, protective silk sleeve, revealing a breathtaking, historically priceless landscape painting from the early Han dynasty, depicting a solitary scholar gazing at a towering mountain peak.

​”A genuine masterpiece,” Zhuge Liang murmured appreciatively, leaning forward to examine the brushwork.

​The promise of such a prestigious reward from the Emperor himself ignited a fierce, joyful competitive spirit among the greatest intellects of the era.

​The terrace transformed into an impromptu literary salon.

​Lu Su started the rounds with a warm, eloquent poem praising the bountiful harvests and the peace that now blanketed the central plains, earning polite, appreciative applause.

​Chen Gong, ever the stern legalist, surprised everyone with a surprisingly poignant, melancholic couplet reflecting on the heavy, silent burden of justice and the blood required to enforce the law, which earned a solemn nod of respect from Jia Xu.

​Pang Tong, his face flushed with wine, delivered a sharp, highly witty, and slightly cynical poem about the absurdity of ambitious men chasing crowns, masking his deep strategic brilliance behind a veil of drunken humor that had Lie Fan laughing out loud.

​But as the rounds progressed, two men naturally gravitated toward the center of the intellectual arena.

​Zhuge Liang set his feather fan down, his eyes gazing out over the sprawling capital. With a serene, melodic voice, he composed a breathtaking poem that seamlessly wove the imagery of a sleeping dragon finally rising from the mud to summon the winds and the rains, perfectly capturing the majestic, unstoppable rise of the Hengyuan Empire without ever sounding arrogant. It was a masterpiece of political poetry.

​The advisors murmured in profound appreciation. It seemed impossible to top.

​But then, the young prodigy, Lu Xun, stepped forward. He did not look at the city, nor did he look at the Emperor. He looked at the wine in his cup, and then up at the darkening sky.

​With a clear, steady voice, Lu Xun delivered a devastatingly beautiful, incredibly sorrowful poem about the ashes of Chang’An. He spoke of the weeping willows that had burned, the ancient stones that had cracked, and the ghosts of the Wei soldiers who now wandered the ruined battlements.

He did not praise the victory, he mourned the profound, tragic human cost of unification, ending with a haunting couplet about how the brightest dawns are always painted with the darkest blood.

​The terrace fell into a stunned, absolute silence.

​The contrast was staggering. Zhuge Liang had captured the glory of the empire, Lu Xun had captured the soul of the war.

​Lie Fan looked at the young Grand Bailiff, his own heart moved by the profound emotional depth and raw honesty of the poem. He looked around the table. Even the hardened, pragmatic Jia Xu and the stoic Sima Yi were staring at Lu Xun with a newfound, immense respect.

​”We have a winner,” Lie Fan declared softly, breaking the silence.

​He stood up, taking the priceless Han dynasty painting from the eunuch, and walked over to where Lu Xun was sitting. He presented the scroll to the young scholar.

​”Your administrative skills are flawless, Boyan,” Lie Fan said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. ”But your soul... your soul understands the true weight of the throne better than men twice your age. Keep this painting as a reminder that someone with position of power must never forget the cost of his actions.”

​Lu Xun accepted the painting with both hands, bowing deeply, genuinely humbled by the Emperor’s praise.

​With the competition concluded and the sun finally setting below the horizon, Lie Fan clapped his hands together, signaling the end of the leisure.

​”A magnificent afternoon, my lords,” Lie Fan announced, his tone returning to imperial business. ”But tomorrow, the poetry ends. I want the Grand Imperial Court meeting held as soon as everything is ready. We will distribute the rewards, we will finalize the promotions, and we will begin the new era. Ensure all ministries are prepared.”

​”By your command, Your Majesty!” the advisors chorused, bowing as Lie Fan turned to take his leave. The Emperor, his mind sharp and his spirit refreshed, walked away from the terrace, returning to the warm, loving embrace of the Harem Palace for the night.

​While the Emperor of Hengyuan celebrated poetry and victory on a sunlit terrace, the atmosphere within the heavily guarded Wang estate on the eastern edge of Xiapi was one of suffocating, desperate gloom.

​The mansion was sprawling and luxurious, but it was undeniably a tomb. Every window facing the street had been boarded up. Elite Hengyuan guards and Oriole Agents stood silently outside every doorway, their shadows stretching long and dark across the courtyards.

​Inside the main bedchamber of the estate, the air was thick with the smell of medicinal herbs.

​Cao Cao lay in a large, comfortable bed. The intense, miraculous medical care ordered by Lie Fan during the grueling march back to Xiapi had actually worked.

The former emperor was no longer hovering on the absolute brink of the Yellow Springs. He was still incredibly weak, practically bedridden, but his breathing was steady, the color had returned to his cheeks, and his mind was razor sharp once again.

​He was healthier. But he was trapped.

​Sitting on small wooden stools beside his bed were his two eldest sons, Cao Pi and Cao Ang. The three men had dismissed the weeping concubines and the terrified younger siblings, demanding absolute privacy for a desperate family council.

​The silence in the room was heavy, thick with the unsaid realization that they were entirely out of options.

​”We cannot just sit here and wait for him to decide our fate,” Cao Pi hissed, his voice a frantic, urgent whisper, leaning close to his father’s bed. His dark eyes darted nervously toward the closed oak doors, paranoid that Jia Xu’s spies were listening through the wood. ”Lie Fan has brought us to his capital to be paraded as trophies before he slaughters us. We have to do something!”

​”Do what, Pi?” Cao Ang asked, his voice weary, devoid of the frantic energy of his younger brother. Cao Ang had spent weeks to months in a Hengyuan military prison, he intimately understood the sheer, inescapable power of their captors. ”We have no weapons. We have no armor. There are three layers of elite heavy infantry between us and the street.”

​”We bribe the servants and maids! We smuggle a message out to the remaining loyalists in Bing province!” Cao Pi argued, his ambition refusing to die, even in a cage. ”We find a way to convince Lie Fan that executing us will cause a massive uprising!”

​”There are no loyalists left, Pi,” Cao Cao said, his voice a low, raspy croak that instantly silenced the younger prince.

​The fallen Emperor slowly turned his head on the pillows, looking at his two most capable sons. ”Lie Fan’s consolidation of our former land was absolute. Anyone loyal to the Cao name has either surrendered, been executed, or is too terrified to raise a banner. A smuggled message would achieve nothing but hastening our executions.”

______________________________

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