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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"It shall be called the 'Altar of the Iron Blood.' Upon it, we will carve the name of every single soldier who fell during the campaign against Wei and in previous campaigns, and leave space for those who may fall in the campaigns to come."
A profound, heavy silence fell over the hall. It was an unprecedented gesture of imperial grace directed not at the generals, but at the common infantrymen.
Mi Zhu, the Minister of Revenue, instinctively adjusted his silk robes, his brilliant financial mind immediately calculating the massive cost of quarrying, transporting, and carving thousands of names into black obsidian.
It would be an astronomical expense, rivaling the cost of a small palace. But Mi Zhu looked across the aisle. He saw the eyes of Grand General Huangfu Song shining with sudden, fierce pride. He saw the Deputy Grand General Marshal Zhang Liao nodding slowly, a look of profound respect settling onto his scarred features.
Mi Zhu knew instantly that this was not a financial ledger to be balanced, it was an investment in the absolute, fanatical loyalty of the entire Hengyuan military apparatus.
"The Ministry of Revenue wholeheartedly supports Your Majesty's proposal," Mi Zhu announced loudly, bowing deeply. "The funds shall be allocated immediately from the central treasury. No cost is too great to honor the foundation of our empire."
"Let it be done," Lie Fan commanded.
He then shifted his posture slightly, preparing for an announcement that he knew would send shockwaves through the uninitiated members of his court.
"While we honor the thousands who fell," Lie Fan continued, his gaze drifting over the assembly, "I must speak of one man specifically. A man who stood closest to the throne."
Lie Fan raised his hand, gesturing toward the shadows near the grand entrance of the hall, where the elite Yellow Ghost Bodyguards stood in silent, terrifying vigilance.
"In the brutal, desperate melee within the inner fortress of Chang'An, my personal Yellow Ghost guard, Bo Cai, was slain," Lie Fan announced, his voice thick with genuine sorrow.
A murmur of surprise rippled through the newer civil officials. The Yellow Ghost Bodyguards were legendary, an impenetrable, nameless wall of black iron that protected the Emperor. To hear one named, and to hear that one had fallen, was shocking.
"There is a truth that many in this hall do not know," Lie Fan declared, his voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade. "Bo Cai, along with Liu Pi, Zhang Mancheng, Zhao Hong, Guan Hai, Zhou Cang, and the rest of the Yellow Ghost Bodyguards... they were not born into nobility. They were not raised in elite military academies."
Lie Fan paused, letting the weight of his next words build.
"Decades ago, when the Han Dynasty rotted from within, these men were former leaders of the Yellow Turban Rebellion."
The collective gasp from the civil officials was audible. Eyes widened in sheer disbelief. The men who guarded the Emperor's life, the most elite protectors in the realm, were former commanders of the very peasant uprising that had nearly burned the empire to ash.
Only the oldest veterans, Jia Xu, Sun Qian, Xun You, and the generals who had ridden with Lie Fan since the beginning, remained perfectly stoic, already knowing the heavily guarded secret.
"They were branded traitors, bandits, and monsters," Lie Fan continued, his voice ringing with absolute defiance against the shocked silence. "But when they saw the vision of Hengyuan, they laid down their yellow bandanas. They repented for the chaos they had caused by dedicating their lives entirely to the protection of this throne. For more than twenty years, they have been my shadow. They have bled for me. And Bo Cai died for me."
Lie Fan leaned forward, his eyes daring any aristocrat in the room to challenge his decree.
"To honor their decades of flawless service, to recognize the profound truth of their repentance, and to exalt the ultimate sacrifice of Bo Cai, I issue this imperial edict," Lie Fan thundered. "Every surviving member of the Yellow Ghost Bodyguard is hereby elevated to the nobility. They are granted the title of Baron. They shall receive the tax revenue of three hundred households each, a permanent estate within the capital, and their children shall be granted immediate entry into the Imperial Academy."
He looked directly at Zhang Mancheng, who was standing near the door, his jaw clenched tight, tears shining in his eyes at the unbelievable, world altering honor being bestowed upon his brothers.
"Furthermore," Lie Fan added softly, "the family of Bo Cai shall receive the title of Viscount posthumously, ensuring his bloodline will never know poverty or shame."
The court was utterly silent. The sheer audacity of elevating former rebel leaders to the imperial nobility was staggering, entirely shattering the rigid, aristocratic class structures that had governed China for centuries.
But Lie Fan's tone made it perfectly clear, this was not a proposal open for debate. It was an absolute statement of his power, a reward for fanatical loyalty that transcended birthright.
The officials, recognizing the unyielding iron in their Emperor's eyes, unanimously dropped to their knees once more. "Your Majesty is infinitely just! We celebrate the new Barons of Hengyuan!"
With the shocking elevation of the bodyguards concluded, Jia Xu stepped back, yielding the floor to the military.
Sima Yi, the Minister of War, stepped smoothly into the center aisle. He moved with the predatory grace of a man who held the lives of millions in his ledger. In his hands, he carried a massive, thick stack of silk scrolls.
"Your Imperial Majesty," Sima Yi began, his dark eyes glittering. "The campaign against Wei was the culmination of decades of martial strategy. It was won by the sheer, overwhelming brilliance of your commanders. The Ministry of War has spent the last month compiling the ledgers of merit, tracking every breached gate, every routed enemy formation, and every enemy general captured or slain."
Sima Yi held up the massive stack of scrolls. "I present to you the list of generals who have earned the right to be elevated within the nobility of Hengyuan. We recommend titles ranging from Baron to Count, commensurate with the blood they have shed for the Dragon Throne."
Lie Fan looked at the sheer size of the stack. He knew the names written within it. It was the pantheon of the greatest warriors the continent had ever seen.
"The list is massive, Zhongda," Lie Fan noted, a satisfied smile touching his lips. "It contains the names of Zhang Liao, Taishi Ci, Huang Zhong, Dian Wei, Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, Zhao Yun, Ma Chao, Zhang Ren, and countless others who shattered Cao Cao's invincible legions."
Lie Fan waved his hand dismissively at the scrolls. "I have no desire to sit here for three days while you read off every single severed head and captured banner. I witnessed their glory with my own eyes on the walls of Chang'An."
Lie Fan leaned forward, addressing the entire military wing of the hall. "I trust the judgment of the Ministry of War entirely. Sima Yi, your ledgers are approved in full. Every promotion, every title of Count, Viscount, and Baron recommended within those scrolls is hereby granted with the full weight of the imperial seal. Let the heralds announce their new titles to the streets tomorrow!"
A collective, fierce roar of approval erupted from the right side of the hall. The generals and commanders struck their breastplates in a thunderous salute, their eyes blazing with pride and absolute devotion to the Emperor who rewarded them so generously and decisively.
"The Ministry of War thanks Your Majesty for your boundless trust," Sima Yi bowed deeply, a small, triumphant smile touching his lips as he stepped back into the ranks.
The military had received their glory. Now, it was time for the bureaucracy to receive its due.
Zhuge Liang stepped gracefully into the center aisle. The Minister of Personnel moved with a serene, almost ethereal calmness, his feather fan gently stirring the incense heavy air. He did not carry a massive stack of scrolls, he carried a single, elegantly bound book.
"Your Imperial Majesty," Zhuge Liang spoke, his voice melodious and incredibly clear. "While the swords of our generals conquered the land, it is the brushes of our civil officials that must govern it. The Ministry of Personnel has rigorously evaluated the performance of every magistrate, prefect, and minister across the empire according to Your Majesty's mandated Nine Rank System."
Zhuge Liang opened the book. "I present the ledger of civil merit. Within are the names of those whose administrative brilliance, incorruptibility, and logistical foresight during the campaign demand immediate promotion to higher ranks within the imperial bureaucracy. Conversely, it also contains the names of those whose corruption, incompetence, or cowardice require immediate demotion or removal from their current posts."
Lie Fan leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his eyes locked onto the brilliant young minister. The rewards for the military were loud and glorious, but the precise, surgical adjustments to the civil service that Zhuge Liang was holding were what would actually dictate whether the Hengyuan Empire survived the next century or collapsed under its own weight.
"Read the primary adjustments, Kongming," Lie Fan ordered, the air in the hall suddenly growing tight with anticipation as every civil official held their breath, waiting to hear if their name meant glorious elevation, or sudden, humiliating ruin.
Zhuge Liang, possessing a serene, almost ethereal calmness that belied the terrifying power he wielded over the bureaucratic fate of thousands, offered a slow, deeply respectful bow to his Emperor. The pristine white feathers of his signature fan came to a gentle rest against his chest.
"I receive Your Imperial Majesty's command," Zhuge Liang replied, his melodious voice carrying effortlessly across the cavernous expanse of the Grand Court Hall.
He slowly opened the heavy, elegantly bound ledger of civil merit. The sharp rustle of the thick parchment seemed to suck the remaining oxygen from the room.
On the left side of the aisle, hundreds of civil officials unconsciously held their breath, their hearts hammering against their ribs. To be named in Zhuge Liang's book meant either ascending into the glorious heavens of imperial favor or plummeting into the deepest, darkest abyss of disgrace.
"I shall begin with the pillars of our logistical and administrative triumph," Zhuge Liang announced, his eyes scanning the meticulously written calligraphy. "Those whose profound merit has earned them the immediate, undeniable right of elevation within the Nine Rank System."
He raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the tense ranks of ministers, prefects, and magistrates.
"Master Chen Fen, step forward," Zhuge Liang called out.
From the middle ranks of the civil officials, a middle aged man with premature streaks of grey in his hair stepped into the center aisle. He was trembling slightly, but his eyes shone with overwhelming pride.
"During the most brutal weeks of the western winter," Zhuge Liang read from the ledger, "when the mountain passes to Xiangyang were choked with snow and ice, Master Chen Fen, acting as the supply magistrate for Xiangyang, did not remain in his heated pavilion."
"He personally led the grain convoys, walking at the front of the oxen through blizzards to ensure the vanguard never missed a single meal. His administrative courage saved thousands of civilians and hudnreds of sokdiers from starvation. By the decree of the Ministry of Personnel, he is hereby promoted two full ranks and appointed as the Grand Intendant of the newly secured Hongnong Commandery."
Chen Fen dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead against the cold obsidian floor. "This humble servant thanks the brilliant Minister! I thank His Imperial Majesty! My life belongs to the Black Dragon!"
"Master Li Zheng, step forward," Zhuge Liang continued, not pausing for the applause that rippled through the hall.
A younger, fiercely intelligent-looking official hurried into the aisle, dropping to a kneel beside Chen Fen.
"When the sudden spring thaws threatened to flood the primary siege camps surrounding the outer walls of the Wei capital," Zhuge Liang recited, his voice steady and clear, "Master Li Zheng drafted and executed an emergency diversion canal network in under forty eight hours, mobilizing civilian labor with such profound fairness that not a single riot broke out. His logistical foresight prevented a catastrophic delay in the siege. He is hereby promoted to the Ministry of Works as a Senior Director."
"I am unworthy of such grace, but I shall bear the duty with my life!" Li Zheng wept openly, kowtowing deeply toward the Dragon Throne.
Zhuge Liang read through several more primary promotions. He named men like Wang Qiao, who had single handedly rooted out a network of Wei spies trying to burn the eastern granaries, and Lin Zheng, a brilliant young auditor who had discovered a massive, systemic inefficiency in the taxation of the silk trade, redirecting millions of copper coins back into the war effort.
As each name was called, the promoted officials stepped into the center aisle, their faces flushed with the absolute, euphoric realization that their grueling, often thankless administrative labor had been seen and recognized by the highest powers in the realm. They wept, they kowtowed, and they offered their profound, fanatical thanks to Zhuge Liang and their Emperor.
Through it all, Lie Fan sat upon the golden Dragon Throne, his face framed by the cascading jade beads of his crown, offering a slow, approving nod to the men who formed the structural steel of his empire.
But the warm, celebratory atmosphere of the court was not destined to last.
Zhuge Liang slowly turned a page in the heavy ledger. The soft shhhk of the parchment sounded like the drawing of an executioner's blade. He closed his fan entirely, letting it hang at his side.
When Zhuge Liang spoke again, the melodious warmth was completely gone from his voice. It was replaced by a chilling, absolute frost that sent a physical shiver down the spines of the assembled bureaucracy.
"The strength of the Hengyuan Empire lies in its flawless foundation," Zhuge Liang declared, his eyes narrowing as he looked out over the sea of blue and violet robes. "A single rotting timber can bring down a palace. The Ministry of Personnel does not only reward the brilliant, it excises the diseased. I shall now read the primary adjustments of demotion, and the decrees of absolute dismissal."
The silence in the hall became suffocating. Men who had felt safe in their wealth and titles suddenly felt a cold sweat breaking out across their brows.
"Zhao Kai," Zhuge Liang commanded, his voice cracking like a whip.
A heavy set official standing near the rear of the formation flinched violently. The blood drained entirely from his face, leaving him a sickly, ashen grey. His knees knocked together as he stumbled blindly into the center aisle, already shaking his head in a pathetic, preemptive denial.
"As the prefect of a key supply nexus in Yan Province," Zhuge Liang read, his eyes locked onto the trembling man, "an audit of your ledgers revealed a systematic embezzlement of winter textiles meant for the western front. Furthermore, when false rumors of a group of bandits reached your city, you abandoned your post and attempted to flee eastward with your personal wealth. You are a coward, and a thief. You are hereby stripped of your rank, fired from the imperial service, and all your stolen assets are to be seized by the state."
"No! No, please!" Zhao Kai shrieked, his voice echoing shrilly in the vast hall. He collapsed onto his stomach, physically crawling across the black obsidian floor toward the raised dais. "Minister Zhuge, there is a mistake! The ledgers were forged! I beg of Your Majesty, show mercy! I have served the capital for ten years! Mercy!"
He bashed his forehead against the polished stone, the sickening thwack ringing out repeatedly until a smear of bright red blood stained the obsidian.
Zhuge Liang did not even blink. He looked down at the ledger. "Sun Mo. Step forward."
Another official, this one thin and reedy, let out a strangled gasp and fell to his knees before he even reached the center aisle.
"You were tasked with managing the displaced refugees from the Luoyang borders," Zhuge Liang stated coldly. "Instead of distributing the imperial grain reserves as commanded, you hoarded them, selling the grain at extortionate thwac market prices while the commoners starved in the mud. Your actions actively poisoned the reputation of the Black Dragon. You are stripped of all titles, fired from service, and banished from the capital."
Sun Mo joined Zhao Kai in the center of the aisle, weeping hysterically, tearing at his own silk robes, and begging for forgiveness. "I was misguided! I was trying to raise funds for the local militia! I swear by the heavens, I did not mean to harm the people! Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty! Give me a chance to repent!"
Zhuge Liang read out three more names for severe demotion, men who had not committed outright treason or theft, but whose sheer, staggering incompetence and lethargy had caused massive delays in the supply chain.
These men, named Guo Lin, Zhou Tong, and Song Qian, stepped forward with their heads bowed in profound, agonizing shame, tears of humiliation streaming down their faces as they were publicly stripped of two or three ranks, effectively destroying decades of political climbing in a matter of seconds.
The center aisle was a pathetic, wretched display of weeping, bleeding, and groveling men. They clutched at the hem of Zhuge Liang's robes, they reached out desperate, trembling hands toward the distant, towering figure of the Emperor, begging for a single word of salvation.
Lie Fan looked down at them through the veil of jade beads.
His eyes were like glaciers. There was not a single, solitary ounce of pity in his gaze. He had shown mercy to Cao Cao and the Cao bloodline because the grand, centuries long geopolitical strategy of the empire demanded it.
He had weighed their lives against the future stability of the realm. But for corrupt officials? For men who stole from the soldiers bleeding on the front lines, and for cowards who starved the commoners they were sworn to protect?
For them, Lie Fan had nothing but absolute, unadulterated contempt. He trusted Zhuge Liang's meticulous, flawless investigations entirely.
Lie Fan did not speak to them. He simply raised his left hand, his fingers flicking outward in a sharp, dismissive gesture.
From the shadows of the grand entrance, the elite Imperial Guards moved with terrifying speed. They descended upon the center aisle like wolves upon wounded prey. Heavy, armored hands clamped down onto the shoulders and collars of the fired officials, hauling Zhao Kai and Sun Mo violently to their feet.
"No! Your Majesty! Please!" Zhao Kai screamed, his heels dragging uselessly across the polished stone as two massive guards hoisted him into the air.
"I am a loyal servant! I can do better!" Sun Mo wept, struggling against the iron grip of his captors.
The guards did not hesitate, nor did they show any gentleness. They dragged the shrieking, weeping men backward down the long aisle and violently threw them out the heavy bronze doors of the Grand Court Hall. The doors slammed shut with a reverberating boom, instantly cutting off their pathetic wails, plunging the court back into a heavy, terrified silence.
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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