Reborn In The Three Kingdoms - Chapter 968
968: 921.
Wu Yi & Wang Fu Return To Chengdu 968: 921.
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Go to https://www.patreon.com/Tang12 ____________________________ And so tonight, when Emperor Xian awaited his envoys with guarded anticipation, somewhere in the unseen rafters above, invisible eyes watched and listened.
The emperor set down his teacup with a soft clink.
The faint sound echoed unnaturally loud in the small chamber.
‘They should have arrived by now,’ he thought anxiously, his gaze darting toward the concealed door on the far wall.
Two of his most trusted envoys, Wang Fu and Wu Yi, had been away for nearly quite sometime, several months should have passed on, since they go out for his secret mission.
He had sent them north and southwest, beyond the borderlands, to the tribal territories and small chiefdoms that lay outside the reach of the Han bureaucracy.
Their orders had been clear form hims, which was to build alliances, gather vassals, promise gold, silk, rank, whatever was needed to win their loyalty.
This, he believed, was his only path to reclaiming power for him and the Han, to gather strength from the peripheries, while his enemies inside if Chengdu grew complacent, that’s what he thought.
Then suddenly a soft, deliberate knock broke the silence.
Emperor Xian straightened when he heard that, his heart thudding in his chest.
“Who is it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
For a moment he feared discovery, but then a calm voice from beyond the door spoke the coded phrase.
“A dragon lies coiled in the shallows, awaiting the storm to rise.” Relief washed over him.
It was the phrase they had agreed upon before their departure, a poetic reminder of their shared patience.
“Enter,” he said quietly, his tone trembling with restrained urgency.
The hidden door creaked open, revealing two weary figures cloaked in travel dust.
Wang Fu entered first, tall and thin, his scholar’s robes frayed from the road but his bearing still upright.
Behind him came Wu Yi, broader of shoulder, his face darkened by sun and fatigue, but his eyes sharp with fire.
Both knelt deeply before the emperor.
“Your Majesty,” they said in unison, voices low.
Emperor Xian exhaled the breath he’d been holding and motioned for them to rise.
“The two of you’ve returned safely… Heaven be thanked for this endeavor.” He gestured to the small table.
“Sit.
You must be exhausted from your journey.
Have you eaten?” Wang Fu managed a faint smile as he lowered himself onto the mat.
“Your Majesty’s concern honors us.
We have eaten along the road.
The thought of reporting to you gave us strength.” Wu Yi, less formal, allowed himself a tired chuckle.
“We’ve crossed mountains and rivers, Your Majesty.
It feels good to breathe the air of Chengdu again, though I see little joy in this city anymore.” The emperor’s eyes softened with sorrow.
“Indeed,” he murmured.
“Joy is scarce within these walls.” He poured them each a cup of tea with his own hands, a rare gesture from a Son of Heaven, but such courtesies had become his only way to remind himself that he still possessed a heart, even if his throne had been stolen.
When the cups were set, Wang Fu inclined his head politely.
“Your Majesty looks well, despite the burdens you bear.” Emperor Xian allowed a faint, humorless smile.
“Well?
My friend, a man locked in a golden cage may live long, but not well.” The faint bitterness in his tone hung in the air.
Wu Yi clenched his fists.
“If only I were powerful enough when those three snakes, Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, and Meng Da, began their schemes, Your Majesty.
I would have-” “Enough, Wu Yi,” Wang Fu interrupted gently, his eyes glancing at the walls as if afraid of hidden ears.
“Even the stones here have tongues.” The emperor gave a slow nod.
“He speaks wisely.
Speak no rash words, for I know well how deep their eyes reach.
I have been surrounded by vipers who bow and smile by day, and whisper my death by night.” For a moment, the only sound was the soft hiss of the oil lamp.
Finally, Wang Fu broke the silence.
“Then Your Majesty has endured much since our absence.
How fares the court?
We heard whispers of the war in the north between Wei and Hengyuan, our battle against Cao Cao, and… the banquet.” The emperor’s expression darkened.
He looked down at his hands, which trembled slightly as they rested upon his knees.
“Yes,” he said at last, his voice quiet.
“The battle was fierce.
The Wei armies lead ny Cao Cao have forced us back to Zitong.
Then suddenly the Hengyuan attacked them, and Cao Cao hearing that, were forced to retreat.
The people of Shu celebrated as though Heaven itself had declared victory for them.
And at the feast held in my name…” He paused, bitterness creeping into his tone.
“…they used my authority as a stage prop.” Wu Yi frowned.
“What do you mean, Your Majesty?” “They forced me,” Emperor Xian said softly, his knuckles whitening, “to consider a royal marriage, an alliance between the Han and the Hengyuan Dynasty.
They spoke honeyed words of ‘peace’ and ‘unity,’ but I could see the truth.
It was their bargain, not mine.
They trade the blood of Han for their own advantage.” His hand struck the table weakly.
“Not one voice in the hall rose in protest.
Not one!” For a moment, his mask of restraint cracked, and his face contorted with the helpless fury of a man who had lost even the right to object.
“I am still the emperor,” he said bitterly, “and yet in my own court, I am a prisoner, bound not by chains, but by silence.” Wu Yi’s expression hardened with anger.
“How dare they!
To treat His Majesty’s will as a mere formality, those treacherous dogs deserve-” “Wu Yi,” Wang Fu said sharply, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Restrain yourself.” Wu Yi bit his lip, lowering his gaze, though the fire in his eyes did not dim.
Wang Fu then turned to the emperor, his tone measured but earnest.
“Your Majesty… forgive my boldness, but I must ask, no one in the court offered resistance?
No official, no general, no courtier?” The emperor gave a mirthless laugh, shaking his head.
“None.
They all bent their knees, whether by fear or favor.
I have been alone, Wang Fu.
Alone for far too long.” The words fell heavy in the silence that followed.
Wang Fu sighed quietly.
“Then it is as we feared.
The court is lost, Your Majesty, at least for now.
The officials have all chosen the winning side, or so they think.
But…” He leaned forward, his voice lowering with quiet conviction.
“…not all hope is lost.
We did not return empty handed.” At that, Emperor Xian’s head lifted sharply.
A flicker of hope, rare and fragile, glowed in his weary eyes.
“You have succeeded?” Both Wang Fu and Wu Yi exchanged a brief glance before nodding.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Wang Fu said, his tone steady.
“Though the journey was perilous, we have sown seeds beyond the borders of the Han.
I traveled through the valleys of the southwest, where the smaller tribes still remember the days when Han emissaries brought silk and salt.
With promises of trade, gold, and recognition, several chieftains have sworn loyalty.
They will answer your summons when called.” Wu Yi continued, pride creeping into his voice.
“And I, Your Majesty, went farther, into the southern hills and even beyond the western plains.
There, I found not only scattered tribes, but a small chiefdom willing to bind itself to your name.
They sought only gifts, positions, and in some cases, women from Chengdu’s outer households to cement their loyalty.
Between us, we can now muster over fifteen thousand warriors, fierce men, hardened by mountain life, loyal to no one but their own, until now.” The emperor rose to his feet, unable to contain his joy.
“Fifteen thousand!” he repeated, his voice trembling with excitement.
“Heaven itself smiles upon us!
You have done more for the Han in one year than all my ministers have done in ten!” Wang Fu bowed his head humbly.
“It is but a beginning, Your Majesty.
The tribes’ loyalty lies in your promise.
Should you call upon them, they will march, but we must act swiftly before their confidence fades.” Emperor Xian paced the narrow chamber, his hands clasped behind his back, his voice regaining a hint of the authority he once wielded.
“Yes… yes, with fifteen thousand men, we can carve the first stone of our restoration.
But it will not be enough.
No, not yet.
Fa Zheng’s spies infest every road and garrison.
Zhang Song commands the court’s treasury.
Meng Da holds the city guard.
To rise too soon would be suicide.” He turned, his gaze sharp.
“You will both return west.
Deeper still, beyond the mountains this time.
There are greater tribes, powerful enough to rival even the border prefectures.
Bring me their allegiance.
Promise them what must be promised.
If we can raise fifty thousand under the banner of Han, even Fa Zheng will tremble.” Both men exchanged a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the peril in the command.
Wu Yi spoke first, his tone cautious.
“Your Majesty, we will obey.
But… allow us to rest a few days first.
The journey has been long and dangerous.
Our men are scattered, our supplies depleted.
A few nights of peace within Chengdu will give us strength to set out again.” The emperor’s expression softened.
“Yes.
You have earned rest and my gratitude.
Remain discreet.
Do not draw attention to your return.
I will arrange for a safe house outside the southern quarter where you may stay unseen.
After that…” He looked toward the door, his eyes burning faintly with determination.
“…we begin again.” Both envoys bowed deeply.
“Your Majesty’s will shall be done.” As they withdrew from the chamber, the emperor lingered behind, staring at the faint glow of the oil lamp.
“Fifteen thousand men,” he whispered to himself.
“The spark of Han still burns…” But high above, hidden in the darkness of the rafters, a shadow stirred, an Oriole Agent silently unfurling a small scroll, recording every word spoken below.
By dawn, Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, and Meng Da, and beyond them, their Emperor, Lie Fan himself, would know everything that had transpired in that so called secret meeting.
The next day, somewhere deep within the palace, Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, and Meng Da gathered together when the report come in, and Fa Zheng smiled faintly as he was the one who read the content of the report when it reach their hand.
“So,” he murmured, his tone calm but his eyes sharp as a blade.
“The Emperor dreams again.
Let him.
Dreams make men careless.” He closed the report, sealing it with wax.
“Continue watching him please.
If he gathers wings, we’ll clip them before they take flight.” ______________________________ 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 CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Tang12 Creation is hard, cheer me up!
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