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Her tone was courteous, but the message beneath was unmistakable. If the Hengyuan Dynasty and Goguryeo did not return the lands of Silla, now consolidated under Goguryeo, which was in the process of being absorbed into Hengyuan, then Yamatai would consider it a hostile act. In return for cooperation, Yamatai promised open trade and diplomatic goodwill.
Lie Fan leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing.
"Himiko," he murmured. He of course had heard the name before and was familiar with it as well, not because it was mentioned in ancient scrolls and history in his past life, but also because when he was still in Huai'An, a merchant guild had come to trade with them from Yamatai under Himiko's order. A shaman queen, some said. A diplomat. Others said she held power through mysticism and fear.
A queen bold enough to challenge his expanding reach.
He didn't speak for a long time. His fingers drummed against the table, until, "well," he murmured to himself, "it seems Japan wants to play."
Finally, he reached for his brush and began drafting a response, not a rejection, but not a concession either. Diplomacy would be the first path. But if war came... the might of Hengyuan would not falter.
Outside, Xiapi bustled with life, industry, and reform. The gears of the dynasty continued to turn. But within the quiet stillness of the imperial study, a new game of politics had begun.
After drafting the letter in response, Lie Fan had it sealed with the Imperial Sigil and handed it to the same messenger who had brought him Gongsun Gong's correspondence. With a calm yet commanding tone, he said, "Be sure Gongsun Gong receives this swiftly. Tell him to translate it into the Silla tongue before delivery. We mustn't be seen as dismissive or incapable of diplomatic etiquette."
The messenger, bowing deeply with practiced grace, cupped his hands in a respectful gesture. "Your Majesty's words shall be carried and obeyed with absolute faithfulness. I will not fail you."
Lie Fan gave a short nod. "Go." With that, the messenger turned and swiftly departed, footsteps light but urgent.
Once the study was quiet again, Lie Fan stood from his chair. His joints ached only slightly, age hadn't yet worn him, but the weight of the crown and the strain of daily governance could not be ignored. He rolled his shoulders slightly and turned toward the doors.
"I'll visit the harem," he told the two Yellow Ghost bodyguards, Zhou Chang and Huang Shao, stationed nearby.
"As you will, Your Majesty," Zhou Chang replied, and the pair silently flanked him as he strode through the palace's marbled corridors.
The route from the Imperial Study to the Harem Palace was one he walked often now, and yet today his mind lingered more heavily on internal matters. The footsteps of industry outside, the murmur of rebuilding, reformation, and expansion, all seemed muffled beneath the thrum of growing tensions, international and internal.
As they crossed a hallway lined with polished jade columns and golden torch sconces, Lie Fan passed a small group of newly appointed Imperial Maids.
Dressed in dignified but elegant attire denoting their elevated roles, they moved gracefully, some purposefully, others less so. A few among them tilted their heads slightly, casting fleeting glances toward the emperor as if hoping to draw his eye. Some even dared to glance up, their eyes lingering a heartbeat too long, their lips curving in practiced allure.
His expression remained as granite.
Inwardly, he sneered.
Even with the thorough vetting process, even with Ying Yue's careful and often ruthless selection standards, not all impurities could be sifted out. A few had clearly slipped through the net, ambitious girls dressed in modesty but filled with personal aspiration. It was always the same, some sought power, others security, and some, simply fame by association.
These women thought themselves clever, mistaking coy glances for strategy. They didn't understand, couldn't understand, that the throne was not won through bedroom whispers but on battlefields and in the cold calculus of governance. Still, their antics were a nuisance, one he had little patience for.
Lie Fan let out a slow breath. He couldn't afford to allow that to irritate him now. It was merely another battlefield, this one draped in silk and layered with perfumed smiles instead of blood.
Finally, they arrived at the Harem Palace.
Just as he stepped toward the marble steps that led into its courtyard, he noticed a familiar figure approaching, a young boy clad in royal robes, followed by his small guard detail and an Imperial Maid in pale lilac.
It was his son and his heir.
"Father!" called Lie Muchen, pausing his approach and bowing formally. The eleven year old crown prince had grown tall for his age and carried himself with a composed elegance that made his father proud.
"Muchen," Lie Fan greeted, allowing a rare warmth to color his voice as he returned the bow with a hand on his son's shoulder. "What brings you here today?"
"I came to visit Imperial Mother Yue," the boy replied. "She promised we would review the Spring Court classics together this evening."
Lie Fan chuckled softly. "Diligent as ever." He gestured toward the door. "Come. Let us go together.".
The two entered side by side, followed by their escorts.
Inside, the Harem Palace exuded tranquility. Gentle music echoed from the garden pavilions, the scent of orchids and peonies clinging to the summer air. Maids bowed deeply as the emperor passed, and his other wives Diao Chan, Cai Wenji, Lu Lingqi, and Zheng Ji peeked from behind silk curtains, gauging the atmosphere and seeing that Lie Fan came with Muchen, they decided to step back.
Ying Yue met them in the main salon, wearing a robe of moonlight silver with her long hair braided intricately and fastened with phoenix pins. Her expression lit up as she saw both Lie Fan and Muchen.
"Imperial Husband. Muchen."
"Yue'er," Lie Fan greeted softly, a soft tenderness in his gaze as he looked at her.
"Imperial Mother," Muchen said, walking into her arms.
As the family reunited, laughter soon replaced tension, and for a brief while, the emperor set aside the weight of war and diplomacy to simply be a father and husband.
Far to the west, where the mountains clawed at the sky and the wind carried the metallic tang of blood, tranquility was a fantasy.
At Jianmen Pass, the battle between the Han and Wei forces had entered its second act. The inner wall now served as the Han's final shield, while the outer wall, lost in the earlier siege, had become a grim staging ground for Wei troops.
Atop the battlements, General Yan Yan stood firm, his weathered face set like stone as he scanned the horizon. Beside him was Zhang Ren, his eyes equally solemn. Behind them, the defensive stratagem laid out by Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, and Meng Da was being executed to the letter.
But the margin for error was razor thin.
Zhang Ren held the message in his hand, reading the note written in Fa Zheng's precise, sharp characters.
"Continue to hold Jianmen Pass. Zitong must not be the fallback yet. Any misstep now will doom the Southern Campaign of his Imperial Majesty Hongyi. No retreat, not yet."
He grimaced. The burden on their shoulders was unbearable, but they had no choice.
Their gaze turned as they heard heavy footsteps approaching. Meng Huo, the chieftain of the Nanman tribes, strode toward them in his war gear, spattered with dirt and dried blood, he was a mountain of muscle and simmering frustration. His face bore an expression somewhere between frustration and fatigue.
"You summoned me?" he asked, his voice like a growling bear.
Yan Yan nodded. "Yes. We need your warriors distributed along the wall, every section. Their strength will be critical when the ladders rise again."
Meng Huo snorted. "So now you need us to hold the line, eh? Fine. We'll do it. But my people are growing restless. We've lost many of our brothers. Their patience for this campaign wears thin. I don't know how long go could control them from retreating."
Zhang Ren's jaw clenched. "We need you to endure a while longer, Chief Meng Huo. The message from Fa Zheng will come soon. Once it does, we'll fall back to Zitong and make our stand there. But not now. Not until the southern campaign if his majesty bore some fruit and allow us to retreat."
Meng Huo huffed through his nose, clearly displeased. "I'll hold my people back, for now. But don't ask me to hold a rope if there's no anchor beneath it. My warriors are not expendable and my people have families they have to go back to at home."
"I know," Zhang Ren said quietly. "We'll make sure this sacrifice means something."
With a final growl, Meng Huo turned and walked away, his large frame cutting through the dust like a storm cloud.
Zhang Ren and Yan Yan exchanged glances. "Let's hope Fa Zheng truly delivers soon," Yan Yan muttered.
They had no time to dwell further.
Yan Yan then turned his gaze back to the battlefield. The Wei forces were advancing again, their banners a sea of crimson and gold beneath the ashen sky.
"Ready the archers," he murmured.
Trumpets sounded in the distance. The enemy had begun to move.
Wei soldiers, armed to the teeth, marched in formation, their banners fluttering as war drums pounded. Siege towers creaked forward, and under them swarmed infantry units wielding ladders, ramrods, and hooks.
The storm had returned.
The Han defenders steeled themselves. Arrows were readied. Oil cauldrons bubbled. Stone throwers were manned. Screams echoed as both sides hurled toward each other in a cascade of war and death.
It was a siege of brutal intensity. The Wei soldiers sought to overwhelm with sheer numbers combined with tactical attacks, but the Han soldiers held tight, anchored not just by walls but by sheer grit and the will not to collapse.
Blades met shields. Ladders rose and were pushed back with scalding oil or falling stones or just pure physical strength. Defenders leapt into melee combat, pushing back invaders one inch at a time.
Yan Yan roared as he struck down a Wei infantry who was scaling the wall. Zhang Ren bled from a cut across his shoulder but refused to leave the front. Meng Huo hurled a Wei infantry down from the wall, showing his mighty strength.
Time was blurred as the situation descended into chaos. And as the sky turned into the darkness of the night, where both sides of the army staggered from the bloodbath, horns and drums of retreat were sounded from the Wei camp, and so the inner walls of Jianmen Pass still held barely. But it held for now.
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Name: Lie Fan
Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty
Age: 34 (201 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