Reborn In The Three Kingdoms - Chapter 1013
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Capítulo 1013: 962. Wei Last Burning Resolve
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He laughed once, short, harsh, and humorless. “Liu Xie… the boy emperor I once held in my palm… dies by accident in his own throne room. And the court of Han, under Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, and Meng Da, unanimously voted to dissolve the dynasty and hand everything to Lie Fan.”
His eyes flashed. “Just like that.
Guo Jia, looking even more gaunt and spectral than usual, stepped forward from the shadows near the brazier.
“Your Majesty,” he said, was a dry whisper, but it carried the weight of undeniable logic, “this was no accident. No sudden collapse. It is exactly as you suspect, this has been planned for a very long time. This was a meticulously crafted demolition.”
Cao Cao gestured for him to continue.
“We do not know when Lie Fan began laying this scheme,” Guo Jia said, as he began pacing slowly. “But it is now clear that Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, Meng Da… they were not just ministers. They were Lie Fan’s sleeper agents, planted deep within the heart of Shu. They first controlled Liu Zhang, then they ‘rescued’ Emperor Xian only to make him their puppet. The entire Han army’s suicidal stand at Zitong against us… it makes sense now. It was a diversion, a sacrifice. They were never afraid of Hengyuan attacking them because Hengyuan was already inside them, pulling the strings.”
Xi Zhicai, coughing lightly into his sleeve, nodded in grim agreement. “Fengxiao is correct, Your Majesty. The depth of the scheme… it is terrifying. We are not fighting a man who reacts to events. We are fighting a man who plants seeds years, perhaps decades, in advance and cultivates entire political landscapes to harvest them at his leisure. The fall of Han was not a consequence of this war; it was a parallel objective, achieved with chilling efficiency.”
Jia Kui added quietly, “They were bait. And we took it.”
The room fell silent again.
Cao Cao listened, fingers drumming once against the table before stilling. The initial, personal fury was being replaced by a colder, more clinical horror. He nodded slowly. “You speak the truth. All of you. I underestimated him. We all did. We saw a brilliant warlord, a peerless general, a shrewd administrator. We did not see… a gardener of empires, patiently poisoning one tree so his own could claim its sunlight.”
He shook his head, a gesture of weary admiration mixed with dread. “To take a dynasty without sacrificing a single soldier of your main army… it is not just strategy. It is… artistry of a monstrous kind.”
For a moment, the weight of Lie Fan’s unseen, long game genius seemed to press down on the room. The immediate, bloody struggle at Hongnong’s walls felt almost petty in comparison.
Xu You scowled. “It is monstrous.”
“Monstrous,” Cheng Yu agreed. “And terrifying.”
“From now on,” Xi Zhicai said, “we must assume every move he makes has layers we cannot see. Traps within traps. If he could do this to the heart of Han, what other traps has he laid? Who among those who swear loyalty to Wei might be waiting for a signal? If we are careless, Hongnong will not be our last stand, it will be our epitaph.”
Cao Cao nodded slowly.
“Perhaps,” he said, “no one can truly defeat him.”
The words hung heavy in the air.
For a moment, it seemed as if despair itself had crept into the hall.
It was Xun Yu who pivoted the discussion from fear back to survival. “Your Majesty,” he said, voice calm, grounding, “thinking in such terms will only lead us astray.”
Cao Cao looked at him sharply.
“While we must respect the depth of his schemes, we cannot afford to be paralyzed by them.” Xun Yu continued. “We should focus on ourselves as we have a more immediate, tangible threat.”
He moved to the map, pointing to the winding line of the Qinling Mountains and the critical Jianmen Pass.
“Our southern border,” he said. “Yi Province.”
Several generals stiffened.
“Even if we hold Jianmen Pass,” Xun Yu went on, “the forces stationed there number barely thirty thousand men. Seasoned, but thirty thousand. What now stands to the south of that pass is no longer the chaotic, divided Han army. It is the freshly integrated, numerically superior Hengyuan Army of Yi Province. An army that did not fight a draining war. An army whose commanders listened to Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, Meng Da, are now Lie Fan’s loyal servants, eager to prove their worth. They could march north at any moment.”
Xun Yu let the implication hang before continuing. “Meanwhile, nearly every effective soldier we have, is here, in Hongnong, locked in this grinding siege against Lie Fan’s main force. Our homeland, our capital in Chang’An… it is defended by garrisons of green recruits and aging reserves. If that army from Yi Province moves north through Jianmen, or finds another route…”
He didn’t need to finish. The picture was chillingly clear. They were in a vice. Before them, the anvil of Lie Fan’s seemingly inexhaustible main army hammered at Hongnong. Behind them, their back was exposed to the newly forged hammer of Yi Province, ready to swing.
Xiahou Yuan swore under his breath. “Damn it.”
Cao Ren clenched his fists. “If they strike from the south while Lie Fan presses from the east—”
“It would be catastrophic,” Tian Feng finished grimly.
Meanwhile Cao Cao’s earlier apprehension was now completely gone, replaced by the icy focus of a commander staring at a battle map that had just turned against him.
He stared at the map, at the tiny marker representing Jianmen Pass, then at the vast, bloated representation of Hengyuan forces surrounding Hongnong.
The grand strategy of holding Hongnong was crumbling, not because of a lost battle here, but because of a political earthquake hundreds of miles away that had fundamentally reshaped the board.
Cao Cao leaned back slowly, eyes closing once more.
The room waited. When he opened them again, the fire was still there, but it had been tempered, sharpened.
“Then we do not allow them the chance,” he said.
Every head lifted.
“We hold Hongnong,” Cao Cao declared. “No matter the cost. This city is the keystone. As long as it stands, Wei stands.”
He looked to Cao Ang. “You will oversee reinforcements to the southern passes. Quietly. No panic.”
Cao Ang bowed deeply. “Yes, Imperial Father.”
“To Cao Ren and Xiahou Dun,” Cao Cao continued, “prepare contingency defenses. If Yi Province moves, I want warning before their banners cross the horizon.”
The two generals bowed as one before then they leave the hall.
Cao Cao’s gaze hardened.
“Lie Fan thinks he has already won,” he said softly. “Let him.”
A dangerous smile touched his lips.
“I have lived my life surrounded by enemies stronger than me,” he continued. “And yet, I am still here. I want to see how he will end me.”
The grim determination that had settled over the hall was palpable, but as Guo Jia, Xi Zhicai, Xun Yu, and Jia Kui watched their emperor, they saw not despair, but a familiar, stubborn fire being stoked in the ashes of the shocking news.
The revelation of Lie Fan’s deep laid plot hadn’t extinguished Cao Cao’s will; it had, perversely, reignited it. This was the man who had risen from a minor officer to the most powerful warlord in the north, who had survived Dong Zhuo, Lu Bu, Yuan Shao, and countless others.
He was a survivor, and the sheer, monstrous scale of the challenge seemed to strip away his earlier sickness induced volatility, leaving behind the hardened core of the warlord they had followed for decades. He would not go gently. He would force Lie Fan to pry his kingdom from his cold, dead hands.
It was in this tense, resolved atmosphere that Cao Pi stepped forward. He was composed, as always, his posture straight, expression controlled, but there was a tightness in his jaw that betrayed the strain beneath. He cupped his fists and bowed deeply.
“Imperial Father,” Cao Pi said, voice steady, respectful. “Does Your Majesty have any orders for me?”
The hall seemed to still.
For a brief moment, Cao Cao studied his second son. Cao Pi had grown quickly under pressure, sharper than before, more cautious, more calculating. Ambition lived in him like a second heartbeat, hidden but persistent. Cao Cao saw it clearly. He always had.
Cao Cao released a low hum, neither approval nor dismissal.
“Go,” he said at last, “and assist your elder brother, Cao Ang, with the southern reinforcement and defense plans.”
Cao Pi’s eyes flickered, just slightly.
“Ensure that the reinforcements move quietly,” Cao Cao continued, his tone measured, deliberate. “But not blindly. I want every pass reinforced with forethought, every detachment placed with intent. Cao Ang sees the battlefield with a soldier’s clarity. You see it with a statesman’s eye. Together, your strengths will compensate for one another’s flaws.”
The words were calm.
But they carried weight.
Cao Pi hesitated for a heartbeat, then bowed again, deeper this time.
“Yes Imperial Father,” he said stiffly. “I will assist Elder Brother to the best of my ability.”
He turned and withdrew, his steps controlled, his face unreadable.
But those who truly understood the court, those who had lived within its shadows long enough to recognize the shape of unspoken declarations, heard what had not been said.
Xiahou Dun’s one good eye narrowed slightly.
Cao Ren’s grip tightened around the hilt of his sword.
Zhang He, standing a pace behind them, felt a quiet shock ripple through his chest.
Cao Cao had spoken.
Not loudly. Not formally.
But clearly.
Cao Ang would remain Crown Prince.
Cao Pi would not.
No matter how capable. No matter how ambitious. The message was unmistakable.
This was not favoritism. This was strategy. Lie Fan’s increasing power , the collapse of Han, the tightening vice around Wei, these pressures had forced Cao Cao’s hand. He could not afford ambiguity. He could not afford factional struggle. The throne of Wei would not become another battlefield.
Unity, at all costs.
Xun Yu felt something close to relief wash through him.
He had seen it coming for months, the subtle maneuvering among noble families, the quiet alignment of scholar clans, the polite conversations that carried sharp undercurrents.
Even without either prince intentionally seeking support, factions had begun to form. Influence gathered like water in unseen channels, shaping itself into currents that could one day become floods.
As long as Cao Cao lived, no one dared act openly. But uncertainty was dangerous. Now, that uncertainty was gone.
Xun Yu bowed his head slightly, gratitude hidden behind formality. Domestic stability, fragile and precious, had just been reinforced at its foundation.
Cao Cao rose from his seat. “This meeting is adjourned,” he said. “Each of you knows your duties.”
One by one, the ministers and generals bowed and withdrew, the weight of impending war heavy in every step. When the hall finally emptied, only the flickering braziers remained, their light dancing across maps stained with ink and blood. Outside, Hongnong groaned beneath the pressure of siege engines and marching boots. Inside, Wei braced itself.
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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 .
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