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!)

...

Furthermore, he mandated that Jia Xu’s Oriole Agents would be permanently embedded within the workforce. Corporate espionage from greedy merchant clans would be met with immediate, lethal force. The secret of soap would be guarded as fiercely as the schematics for the Black Dragon Cannons.

​Finished, Lie Fan carefully blew on the silk paper, ensuring the ink was perfectly dry. He rolled the scrolls tight, binding them with leather cords, and set them aside on his desk, ready to be delivered to the Ministry of Works in the morning.

​He then placed his hand flat against the heavy, leather bound cover of the Book of Knowledge. With a quiet thought, the tome shimmered and dissolved back into the ethereal space of his system inventory, perfectly safe from any prying eyes.

​The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, casting the study into deep shadow, illuminated only by the flickering light of a single oil lamp on his desk. The day had been impossibly long, swinging violently from the horrific depths of mass execution to the brilliant heights of chemical invention.

​Lie Fan felt the absolute limit of his endurance approaching. He blew out the oil lamp, plunging the room into darkness, and quietly left the study.

​He walked through the silent, moonlit corridors of the palace, returning to his private quarters. He did not seek out Diao Chan, Ying Yue, or any of his wives tonight.

He carried too much of the day’s death upon his soul, and he did not want to bring that heavy, mourning energy into their sanctuaries. He retired to his own solitary bedchamber, stripping off his robes and collapsing onto the silk sheeted bed.

​Sleep claimed him instantly, pulling the Emperor into a deep, dreamless void.

​When Lie Fan woke up the next day, the atmosphere of the palace was profoundly different. The frantic, administrative energy of the previous days was gone, replaced by a heavy, suffocating solemnity.

​Today was the day the Wei Dynasty would be put into the earth.

​Lie Fan immediately rose from his bed. He moved with a quiet, deliberate reverence, preparing himself for the heavy duty ahead. He washed his face with cold water from a copper basin, clearing the last remnants of sleep from his eyes.

​He stood in the center of his dressing chamber as his senior maids entered, carrying garments that had been specially prepared for this exact, unprecedented occasion.

​There was no brilliant, imperial yellow today. There was no aggressive, martial crimson.

​Lie Fan was adorned in robes of deep, charcoal grey, bordered with stark, unblemished white silk at the collar and cuffs, the traditional colors of deep respect and formal mourning.

The silk was of the highest quality, entirely devoid of the aggressive dragon motifs that usually defined his wardrobe. Instead of the heavy, imposing Mian’guan crown with its clicking jade beads, his dark hair was simply gathered and pinned with a single, flawless piece of white jade.

​It was an outfit that projected absolute, undeniable authority, yet spoke of a solemn, profound respect for the gravity of death. He was not attending as a gloating conqueror, he was attending as the sovereign paying his final respects to an era.

​When the dressing was complete, Lie Fan dismissed the maids and left his quarters.

​As he stepped out into the grand courtyards of the palace, the sheer scale of the procession awaiting him was breathtaking.

​The courtyard was a sea of dark, somber colors. His entire inner circle of advisors, Jia Xu, Xun You, Zhuge Liang, Lu Su, and all the rest, were gathered, dressed in muted, respectful robes of grey and dark blue. They stood in perfect, silent ranks, their faces grave and composed.

​Surrounding the advisors, forming a massive, terrifyingly disciplined perimeter, were the Yellow Ghost Bodyguards and hundreds of the most elite imperial guards. Unlike their usual gleaming silver and polished iron, today the soldiers wore dark, matte black armor, their weapons sheathed, their massive battle standards furled and bound with white mourning ribbons.

​Lie Fan walked down the wide stone stairs. The entire assembly dropped to one knee in a wave of dark fabric and clinking armor, a silent, profound display of absolute reverence.

​Lie Fan did not speak. He did not need to give a grand speech. He simply walked toward his waiting warhorse, Pangu, whose own ornate barding had been replaced with simple, dark leather.

​He pulled himself up into the saddle, gathering the reins in his gloved hands. He looked out over the silent, magnificent procession, his eyes turning toward the towering eastern gates of the capital.

​With a subtle, commanding nod of his head, Emperor Lie Fan signaled the march.

​The heavy, rhythmic thud of thousands of boots and hooves began to echo through the capital. The massive, iron reinforced gates of Xiapi were hauled open, and the imperial procession rode out, leaving the bustling heart of the empire behind.

They headed eastward, toward the quiet, tranquil hills where the freshly earth waited to receive Cao Mengde, his clan, and the five fallen titans of Wei.

​The final Chapter was about to be closed.

The workers who extracted the lye would never see the rendering of the oils, and the workers who mixed the scents would never know the base ratios. The entire operation would be overseen only by a handful of fiercely loyal, hand picked artisans who had been with him since his earliest days in Xu Province.

The massive, iron reinforced gates of Xiapi were hauled open, and the imperial procession rode out, leaving the bustling heart of the empire behind. They headed eastward, toward the quiet, tranquil hills where the freshly turned earth waited to receive Cao Mengde, his clan, and the five fallen titans of Wei.

​The journey was not a brief morning ride. To fulfill the precise geomantic and philosophical requirements established by Minister Lu Su, the designated burial location was situated several tends of miles east of the capital.

It was a short march across the rolling plains and dense forests around Xiapi. Yet, despite the immense logistical strain of moving an imperial procession of this magnitude, there was no complaining among the ranks. The thousands of elite guards, the carriage drivers, the priests, and the artisans all moved in a state of solemn, synchronized reverence.

​Lie Fan rode at the vanguard on his great warhorse, Pangu. He did not retreat to the comfort of his carriage for the entirety of the journey. He rode in the open air, the harsh wind whipping at his charcoal grey mourning robes, leading the funeral procession of his greatest rival with the stoic endurance of a true conqueror.

Behind him trailed the massive, heavily draped wooden wagons carrying the meticulously prepared cedar coffins.

​Finally, after days of relentless marching, the procession crested a massive, sweeping ridge. Lie Fan raised a single, gloved hand, pulling tightly on Pangu’s reins.

​The entire column ground to a flawless, unified halt.

​They had arrived.

​The location was breathtaking. It was a high, verdant plateau that offered an unobstructed, sweeping view of the eastern horizon. When the dawn broke here, the light would spill across the earth in an uninterrupted wave of gold, bathing the hills in the brilliant optimism of the morning.

It was exactly as Lu Su had envisioned, a place where the ghosts of Wei would be eternally forced to watch the sun rise over the unbroken, prosperous expanse of the Hengyuan Empire.

​”Dismount,” Lie Fan commanded softly. The order rippled down the lines.

​Lie Fan swung down from his saddle, his boots crunching against the wild grass. He turned to the captains of his engineering corps. ”Begin the excavation. Treat the earth with respect, but dig deep. The foundations of this tomb must withstand the turning of ages.”

​The heavy infantry, swapping their halberds for iron tipped shovels and pickaxes, immediately swarmed the designated plateau. The rhythmic, heavy thwack of iron biting into the soil echoed across the hills. It was a massive undertaking, they were not merely digging graves, they were carving out a subterranean mausoleum fit for a fallen dynasty.

​As the soldiers began the grueling labor, the imperial attendants swiftly erected a wide, open air silk pavilion a respectful distance away, sheltering it beneath the sprawling branches of an ancient pine tree. Lie Fan walked toward the pavilion, shedding the heavy dust of the road.

​He took a seat on a woven mat at the center of the pavilion. His inner circle of advisors, Nia Xu, Lu Su, Zhuge Liang, Chen Gong, and the others took their places kneeling beside him.

Surrounding the perimeter of the pavilion, facing outward with absolute, terrifying vigilance, stood the Yellow Ghost Bodyguards. Their hands rested on their sword hilts, their dark armor absorbing the sunlight, ensuring that their Emperor’s mourning would not be interrupted by bandits or rogue loyalists.

​Servants moved quietly among the advisors, pouring hot, fragrant green tea into simple clay cups and offering small, lacquered trays of dried fruits and salted meats.

​”The earth here is rich, Your Majesty,” Lu Su murmured, accepting a cup of tea. He looked out over the plateau, listening to the synchronized sounds of the excavation. ”The feng shui is immaculate. The mountains protect the rear, and the open plains welcome the vital energy of the east. It is a resting place that honors their history without elevating their claim to the heavens.”

​Lie Fan nodded slowly, taking a sip of his tea. The warmth was a welcome comfort against the biting wind of the high elevation. ”You chose well, Zijing. It is peaceful. A stark contrast to the way they lived, and the way they died.”

​For several hours, Lie Fan sat in the pavilion, partaking in the light refreshments and engaging in quiet, muted conversations regarding the future of the state.

He discussed the upcoming agricultural reforms with Chen Gong, and the logistical supply lines to Chang’an with Zhuge Liang. The mundane, vital gears of governance never stopped turning, even in the shadow of a graveyard.

​As the sun began to pass its zenith, dipping slightly toward the west, the captain of the engineering corps approached the pavilion, dropping to one knee.

​”Your Imperial Majesty, the excavation is complete,” the captain reported, his face streaked with dirt and sweat. ”The subterranean chambers have been carved and reinforced with timber. We await your command for the interment.”

​Lie Fan set his teacup down. He stood up, adjusting his grey robes, and walked out from the shade of the silk pavilion, his advisors falling into step directly behind him.

​They approached the edge of the massive, freshly dug earthworks. A wide, sloping ramp had been carved into the soil, leading down into a sprawling, multi chambered earthen tomb.

​”Bring them forward,” Lie Fan ordered, his voice carrying the heavy, solemn weight of an Emperor rendering final judgment.

​The heavy wagons were drawn to the edge of the ramp. The soldiers, utilizing thick hemp ropes and heavy wooden pulleys, began the agonizingly precise work of lowering the coffins into the earth.

​The bodies of the Cao Clan and the Five Wei Generals were the first to be brought down into the burial tombs.

​Lie Fan watched with an unreadable expression as the massive, reinforced oak coffins of Xu Chu, Xiahou Dun, Xiahou Yuan, Cao Ren, and Cao Hong were lowered into the vanguard chambers.

They were placed in a protective, sweeping arc just before the main burial chamber. Even in death, they formed an impenetrable, iron wall. Their loyalty was literally cemented into the geography of the tomb; they would guard the approach to their lord for all eternity.

​Behind them, in the secondary chambers, the coffins of Cao Cao’s sons, Cao Pi, Cao Ang, Cao Zhang, Cao Zhi, and his extended blood relatives were gently laid to rest. The brilliant poets, the ambitious princes, and the fierce nephews were laid side by side in the cold, silent dark.

​Finally, the most ornate wagon was brought forward.

​Resting upon it was a massive coffin carved from ancient, dark nanmu wood, polished to a mirror shine and bound with bands of dark iron. Inside lay Cao Mengde, dressed in the magnificent, flowing robes of a Chancellor, his face pale and serene, his hands folded over his chest.

​Dozens of soldiers strained against the ropes, their muscles burning as they carefully lowered the massive coffin down the earthen ramp and into the cavernous, central primary chamber of the tomb.

​Lie Fan walked halfway down the ramp, standing at the threshold of the central chamber. He watched as Cao Cao’s coffin was placed precisely upon the raised stone dais that had been carved out of the bedrock.

​”Hold,” Lie Fan commanded sharply, raising his hand.

​The soldiers froze.

​Lie Fan pointed to the empty, meticulously smoothed earth directly to the left and to the right of Cao Cao’s central dais.

​”Construct two secondary stone daises there, to his immediate left and right,” Lie Fan ordered the master masons standing nearby. ”Leave the chambers completely open and undisturbed. Those spaces are specifically reserved. When the time comes, years from now, Empress Ding and Grand Concubine Bian shall be brought here. They will be placed by his side. They will not be separated in the afterlife.”

​The masons bowed deeply, immediately adjusting the stonework to reflect the Emperor’s solemn promise to the grieving widows. It was a terrifying display of absolute authority, mingled with a profound, almost heartbreaking empathy.

​With the spatial arrangements finalized, Lie Fan stepped back out of the tomb, returning to the surface. He gave a single, firm nod.

​The soldiers grabbed their shovels. The sound of hundreds of pounds of dirt hitting the wooden lids of the coffins began. It was a heavy, hollow, suffocating sound, the sound of history being buried. Slowly, methodically, the deep earthen chambers were filled, the soil packed down tight, sealing the Wei Dynasty in the absolute dark.

______________________________

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