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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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An imperial maid hastily brought forward a small, intricately carved wooden table bearing a pot of vibrant vermilion ink and the heavy, priceless Imperial Jade Seal. Lie Fan took up his finest writing brush, dipped it into the red ink, and signed his name with sweeping, elegant strokes across the final, heavy parchment summary of the laws. Then, taking the Jade Seal in both hands, he pressed it firmly down onto the document.
With that heavy, decisive stamp, the strict new firearm law officially and permanently went into effect across the entire, massive continent of the Hengyuan Dynasty. The era of fire was now legally bound by chains of iron.
Just as the wet, crimson ink of the Jade Seal was drying on the new laws, the heavy wooden doors of the throne room were pushed open once again.
A breathless, high ranking Oriole Agent, his dark leather armor covered in the fine gray dust of the coastal roads and his face lined with the exhaustion of a multi day, relentless horseback ride across the empire's courier network, entered the hall.
Bypassing the usual strict protocols of court due to his clearance level, the agent marched directly to the foot of the dais, dropping to one knee and raising a highly prioritized, heavily sealed wooden cylinder above his head.
"A direct military report from the eastern islands, Your Majesty!" the agent rasped, his throat dry. "Sent jointly by Deputy Grand General Zhang Liao, Head Strategist Sima Yi, and Advisor Guo Jia!"
Lie Fan's eyes narrowed with intense, immediate focus. He stood up from his throne, walked down the steps of the dais, and personally took the cylinder from the agent's hands. He broke the thick wax seal, pulling out the tightly rolled silk scroll from within.
He eagerly read the detailed battlefield report, his visionary eyes scanning the elegant, rapid calligraphy of Sima Yi.
The first paragraph delivered the news that would forever alter the maps of the world, The report officially confirmed the crushing capitulation of Yamato.
Lie Fan read on, completely engrossed in the strategic masterpiece his generals had painted across the island of Kyushu. The report beautifully detailed how, after a single, terrifying demonstration of concentrated artillery fire upon the capital walls, the terrified Yamato court had completely shattered.
They had unconditionally agreed to all terms dictated by Sima Yi and Guo Jia, officially being reduced from the proud, ancient position of an independent Kingdom to a completely subservient, highly regulated province of the empire.
The political decapitation was flawless. The former King Tarashihiko, a man who had believed his bloodline was divine, was now merely designated as a "Special Governor" bound entirely by Hengyuan law and watched day and night by Oriole shadows. He was utterly stripped of his fangs. The report detailed the massive disarmament campaign, noting that Yamato was not allowed to have any active standing army or navy for now.
Their legendary warriors were being systematically disarmed, their ancestral swords melted down into slag, and the warriors themselves forced to till the rice paddies. The island was forever becoming a massive, highly lucrative tributary state to the Hengyuan Dynasty, promising endless streams of silver, timber, and grain to the imperial coffers.
Furthermore, the latter half of the report thrillingly stated that the war was far from over. The Imperial Army had not grown sluggish after swallowing its first meal.
Zhang Liao wrote that right now, the four strategists and the military high command were in the midst of aggressive, massive logistical preparations. They had completely secured the northern straits of Kyushu, trapping any remaining resistance, and were currently repairing the fleet and rationing the black powder to launch the next brutal, amphibious assault.
Their eyes were set on crossing the treacherous waters into the massive, untamed northern island of Honshu, and simultaneously striking the wealthy, mysterious eastern island of Shikoku. Their mandate was clear, they would not stop until they had completely crushed the remaining independent, warring tribes of the north and brought the powerful, enigmatic Yamatai kingdom of Queen Himiko to its knees.
Reading this glorious, history altering report, Lie Fan let out a big, triumphant smile that genuinely reached his eyes, erasing the usual cold calculation that defined his features.
It was a total undisputed victory of modernization over tradition. The isolated, arrogant Yamato kingdom, relying on curved swords, bamboo armor, and the supposed favor of their island gods, simply wasn't prepared in the slightest to face the apocalyptic, industrialized might of his modernized army. The psychological shock of the cannons and the liquid fire had done more damage than a hundred infantry charges ever could.
And now, with the crucial southern foothold of Kyushu completely secured, pacified, and transformed into a massive logistical supply hub, his endless legions would officially enter the deeper mainland of Japan, or Wa. They would continue to relentlessly push forward, further increasing the empire's terrifying eastern expansion until the rising sun was completely engulfed by his shadow.
With his heart soaring, filled with the intoxicating, unmatched thrill of absolute global supremacy, Lie Fan slowly stood up from his throne. Leaving Chen Gong and the kneeling Oriole Agent in the throne room, he turned and walked out through the massive, open air arches that led onto the grand, sprawling balcony of his imperial palace.
He stepped out into the bright sunlight, walking all the way to the intricately carved white marble railing. He looked far up into the boundless, vibrant blue sky, feeling the cool, refreshing spring wind against his face, rustling the heavy silk of his robes.
For a long time, he just stood there, listening to the distant, rhythmic sounds of the bustling capital below, the merchants haggling, the blacksmiths hammering, the rhythmic marching of patrols. It was the sound of a world functioning in absolute, flawless order under his command.
And as he stood there, a profound, almost overwhelming silence fell over his mind. He began deeply thinking about the future. What in the world will he do after this Eastern Expansion is finally concluded?
He closed his eyes, his mind expanding outward, tracing the borders of his domain as if he were hovering high above the earth. As he mapped the world in his mind, he realized the sheer, breathtaking scale of his achievements. It was a scale that defied human comprehension, a geopolitical reality that made the legendary conquerors of antiquity look like mere chieftains squabbling over dirt.
His Hengyuan Dynasty now holds a massive, incredibly wealthy chunk of the southern lands, reaching deep into the humid, exotic jungles of Southeast Asia, securing endless trade routes and spices. To the north, his iron grip completely dominates the vast, freezing northern steppes, having forcefully assimilated the nomadic hordes into a massive, organized agricultural and cavalry breeding machine. And very soon, once Zhang Liao and Sima Yi finished their brutal work, he will control the absolute entirety of East Asia, securing the eastern oceanic flank forever.
All of these vast, disparate territories were seamlessly combined with the endless, prosperous, heavily populated heartland of mainland China itself. The geographical size, the sheer manpower, and the overwhelming economic power of his empire was now simply enormous. It was a monolithic titan of industry, law, and military might, completely dwarfing any dynasty in human history. He had achieved what Qin Shi Huang had only dreamed of, he had conquered all under heaven, which of course just a saying.
But as Lie Fan opened his eyes and stared at the distant, hazy horizon where the sky met the earth, a strange, restless energy began to stir within his chest. The heart of a conqueror is a furnace that constantly demands new fuel. To stop expanding, to simply sit on a throne and manage grain taxes for the rest of his life, felt like a slow, suffocating death to a visionary like him.
A new, incredibly bold, and seemingly impossible ambition sparked in his dark eyes, burning away the momentary peace.
He turned his gaze away from the east, away from the subjugated islands, and looked toward the west. Past the great deserts, past the towering mountains of the Silk Road, into the vast, unknown expanses of the world.
With the East entirely conquered, assimilated, and bound by his laws, maybe it is finally time to look to the far West.
He mused, his mind racing with the geopolitical possibilities, that it was time to actively seek out and formally meet with the legendary Roman Empire, the mysterious, powerful civilization known to his scholars as Daqin. He did not necessarily want to march his armies there to conquer them, the logistics of such a war would be madness even for him.
But he wanted to increase further diplomatic, cultural, and massive economic contacts across the globe. He wanted to establish a direct, formalized connection between the masters of the East and the masters of the West.
He fully knew the reality of such an endeavor. Their communication lines and trade caravans will be very, very long and excruciatingly arduous. He knew the unimaginably vast geographical distance between his monolithic, industrialized nation and the Roman Empire spanned entire, unforgiving deserts, towering mountain ranges, and fractured, dangerous continents filled with hostile tribes. A single message could take a year to deliver, a trade caravan could be swallowed by sandstorms or bandits.
But as he gripped the marble railing, a thrilling, electric smile spread across his face. The sheer difficulty of the task only made it more appealing. The thought of the two greatest empires in the world finally connecting, of Hengyuan silk and steel trading directly for Roman glass and gold, filled his conqueror's heart with endless, burning anticipation for the future.
The era of unification was drawing to a close. The era of a truly connected, global world, with the Hengyuan Dynasty sitting at the absolute, untouchable center of it all, was just beginning.
With that monumental, world spanning vision of reaching the Roman Empire firmly planted in his ambitious mind, Lie Fan stood on the sunlit balcony for just a few moments longer, letting the cool spring breeze wash over his face.
He allowed himself to indulge in the grand fantasy of vast trade caravans traversing the deserts of the far west, bridging the gap between the two greatest civilizations the earth had ever seen. But as intoxicating as the dream was, the Emperor of the Hengyuan Dynasty knew better than anyone that empires were not built on dreams alone. They were built on grain yields, tax ledgers, and the exhausting, unrelenting grind of daily administration.
With a deep breath, he gently pushed those grand dreams aside for the moment. Turning his back to the horizon, Lie Fan walked back into the quiet, heavily guarded confines of his private study. He sat back down at his heavy wooden desk, the polished ebony surface already groaning under the weight of his absolute authority.
For the rest of the day, and long into the night, Lie Fan patiently continued to do his endless, grueling bureaucratic responsibilities. The sheer volume of paperwork required to manage a continent spanning empire was staggering, but he tackled it with the same cold, calculating efficiency he used to command his armies. He spent hours meticulously reading through towering stacks of bamboo scrolls and silk reports.
He approved the complex, tiered agricultural taxes for the newly assimilated northern steppes, carefully balancing the need for imperial revenue with the necessity of keeping the nomadic tribes fed and complacent. He reviewed the dossiers of dozens of provincial magistrates, assigning harsh but fair administrators to the southern provinces to root out localized corruption.
He managed the sprawling logistics of the empire, cross referencing grain shipments from the fertile plains of Jing Province with the massive consumption rates of Zhang Liao's expeditionary forces in the east. It was deeply tedious, unglamorous work, but it was the vital, invisible lifeblood that kept the Hengyuan Dynasty alive and thriving.
Meanwhile, far outside the quiet, luxurious walls of the imperial palace, a very different kind of work was taking place. Hidden away in the heavily guarded, industrial sectors of the capital, the secret productions of the newly approved flintlocks and heavy blunderbusses were going incredibly well.
Lie Fan had ordered the rapid construction of these highly secured factories, completely isolated from the regular blacksmithing districts and surrounded by a permanent, heavily armed perimeter of elite imperial guards.
Inside these massive stone structures, the heat was oppressive, and the noise was a constant, deafening roar of industry. With blazing furnaces burning day and night, and non stop assembly lines moving with a synchronized, crafting rhythm, the dedicated gunsmiths were achieving astonishingly high production numbers.
The division of labor, a revolutionary concept Lie Fan had aggressively implemented, ensured that no single blacksmith wasted time moving between tasks. One group of artisans poured the molten steel, casting the heavy barrels.
Another group, stripped to the waist in the sweltering heat, hammered and folded the metal to eliminate any deadly impurities. Down the line, master woodworkers carved the dense walnut stocks, while the most skilled, fine fingered mechanics assembled the intricate, high tension spring mechanisms of the flintlocks.
Despite the sheer, unprecedented volume of weapons being churned out every single week, the factory overseers maintained an exceptionally good, rigorous quality output. Every single iron barrel was rigorously tested for pressure tolerances. Every firing mechanism was repeatedly snapped to ensure the spark caught perfectly.
If a weapon showed even the slightest imperfection, a hairline fracture in the wood, a slightly loose screw in the flash pan, it was immediately discarded and melted down. The overseers knew the Emperor's law: a weapon that misfired and killed a Hengyuan soldier was a treasonous failure, and they ensured every piece of armament leaving the factory floor was utterly flawless.
However, having flawless weapons was entirely useless if the men wielding them did not know how to fight in this terrifying new era. Recognizing the desperate need for soldiers who could actually wield these revolutionary firearms to their maximum potential, Zhuge Liang took immediate, decisive action.
Sitting in his expansive office within the Ministry of Personnel, Zhuge Liang possessed absolute access to the vast, highly detailed military documents and service records of every single soldier in the empire. Utilizing his authority, he spent days meticulously combing through the bamboo slips, looking for very specific traits. He did not want men who were simply strong, he needed men who possessed an unbreakable psychological fortitude.
He meticulously handpicked and chose thousands of the absolute most elite, disciplined, and fiercely loyal soldiers from the central army. He specifically selected veterans who had stood firm against the terrifying cavalry charges of the northern hordes, men who wouldn't flinch when the world around them exploded in noise and smoke. Just as importantly, Zhuge Liang actively filtered out anyone who had direct blood ties, financial debts, or political loyalties to the wealthy, aristocratic families of the capital.
These handpicked men were quietly separated from their regular infantry units under the guise of a specialized, long term border deployment. In reality, they were sent to a highly classified, heavily guarded military encampment located deep in the isolated, mountainous outskirts of Xiapi.
The camp was a fortress of secrecy, completely cordoned off from the outside world. Here, the newly formed musketeer units were introduced to the weapons that would change the world.
The training was brutal, uncompromising, and relentlessly repetitive. They were rigorously trained day and night in using the sleek flintlocks and the bone shattering blunderbusses. Under the strict, screaming supervision of drill instructors personally vetted by Zhuge Liang, they drilled the complex mechanisms endlessly until their hands bled and their muscles memorized the exact motions.
They practiced the precise measuring of the highly volatile black powder, learning exactly how much to pour into the barrel and how much to reserve for the flash pan. They practiced the meticulous loading and packing of the iron balls, using their long iron ramrods to violently shove the heavy lead and the cloth wadding down to the breech. They drilled the act of aiming, learning to sight down the smoothbore barrels.
But most importantly, they practiced the frantic, desperate process of reloading as fast as humanly possible.
Zhuge Liang knew that the agonizing twenty second reload time Lie Fan had witnessed was a fatal liability. The soldiers were pushed to their absolute physical limits, forced to reload while marching, while kneeling, and while exhausted. They learned to move with a synchronized, mechanical efficiency, cutting precious seconds off their time.
Furthermore, Zhuge Liang did not want them shooting at static targets in a quiet field. Several highly realistic, terrifying combat scenarios were being constantly done in the camp. The soldiers would shoot at heavily armored training dummies from various distances and formations while the instructors beat war drums and blew deafening horns to simulate the terrifying din of battle.
The absolute most important aspect of their training was ensuring that they can shoot accurately under the chaotic, overwhelming pressure of a battlefield, maximizing the lethal potential of volley fire. Zhuge Liang implemented strict firing lines. The first rank would step forward, aim, and fire a devastating, synchronized volley that would tear through the armored dummies.
Instantly, they would drop to one knee and begin the frantic reloading process, while the second rank stepped forward to unleash the next volley. It was a continuous, rolling wave of thunder and lead that required absolute, unflinching discipline to maintain. A single panicked soldier stepping out of line could disrupt the entire formation. This explosive, deafening training was, of course, done entirely in the remote outskirts of Xiapi for one critical reason, to strictly ensure the weapons' secrecy.
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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