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There was no immediate attack. The eerie quiet persisted, but it was now a quiet of intense activity. Instead of the roar of assault, the camp buzzed with a different energy, the sound of thousands of men preparing, of armor being fastened with extra care, of final orders being given in hushed, urgent tones.
Muchen was dressed and ready when a guard informed him the Emperor summoned him. He found his father not in the command tent, but outside it, a figure transformed.
Lie Fan stood in the full, imposing splendor of his battle armor, the dark metal etched with subtle, flowing patterns that seemed to move in the dawn light. In his right hand, he held his halberd not as a ceremonial prop, but with a casual, familiar grip that spoke of its deadly weight and balance. He looked less like a man and more like an embodiment of will, a statue of war given life.
Around him stood Sima Yi, ever watchful, and the three frontline titans. Zhang Liao, solid and dependable. Huang Zhong, his old frame radiating lethal precision. And Taishi Ci, a contained storm of passion and strength. Zhao Yun and Ma Chao were already at Muchen's side, having appeared as if from the shadows the moment he stepped out.
"Come," Lie Fan said, his voice calm. "Before the dance begins, you must meet the dancers."
They set out on a tour of the lines. It was not a hurried inspection, it was a procession. Lie Fan walked, his halberd resting on his shoulder, through the labyrinth of trenches, past the rows of tents, along the bulwarks protecting the mighty siege engines.
He did not just look, he saw. He stopped to speak to a grizzled captain about the stability of a section of trench wall. He clapped a young archer on the shoulder, asking if his bowstring was fresh. He stood for a moment in silent respect before a makeshift shrine where soldiers had placed tokens for fallen comrades.
And the soldiers… they saw him. Word spread like wildfire ahead of them. By the time they reached the forward observation posts, the entire siege line seemed to be holding its breath. Then, as Lie Fan stepped up onto a raised berm to get a clearer view of the walls, a soldier in the front trench recognized him fully.
A cry went up, raw and full of emotion. "THE EMPEROR! THE EMPEROR IS HERE!"
It was like a spark hitting dry tinder. The cry was taken up, from man to man, trench to trench, company to company. It swelled from a shout into a roar, then into a deafening, unified chant that shook the very earth under their feet.
"LONG LIVE YOUR MAJESTY! LONG LIVE YOUR MAJESTY! LONG LIVE THE CROWN PRINCE!"
The sound was physical, a wave of sheer, fervent loyalty that hit Muchen like a gale. He saw the faces, filthy, tired, many bearing fresh bandages or the hollow look of long stress, transform. Eyes that had been dull with endurance blazed with new fire.
These men weren't just cheering a ruler, they were cheering the living symbol of their cause, the man whose presence meant the end of their long, bloody vigil was near.
The sound was so immense it rolled across the plain, a tangible challenge hurled at the silent walls of Hongnong. Muchen had never felt anything like it. It wasn't just noise, it was the soul of an army made audible.
Lie Fan did not bask in it. He let it wash over him, then he raised his halberd high. The gesture was simple, but it commanded absolute, immediate silence. The roaring chant died away into a respectful, eager hush, thousands of men waiting on his next word.
His voice, when it came, carried effortlessly in the sudden quiet, not because he shouted, but because every soul present was straining to hear it.
"My brothers! My sons!" he began, and the familiarity of the address made the mass of soldiers lean in. "I look upon you, and I do not see an army. I see the stubborn will of our people! I see the patience of mountains and the resilience of rivers! For months, you have held this line. You have given your sweat, your blood, you have watched comrades fall… for this."
He pointed his halberd toward Hongnong, the gesture an accusation. "For this stubborn stone that refuses to acknowledge the dawn of a new age!"
A low growl of agreement rippled through the ranks.
"You have done this for me. For the dream I asked you to carry. And I have come to tell you this, your watch is honored. Your sacrifice is seen. But your waiting… is OVER!"
The last word cracked like a whip. A shudder of anticipation went through the army.
"I am here. Fresh strength is here. And today, we stop asking this city to surrender. Today, we remind it what happens when the Hengyuan Dynasty sets its mind to a task! We will take these walls! We will unify this land! And we will do it together! The glory will be yours! The victory will be ours! FOR UNITY!"
He didn't need to say more. The army erupted again, the chant returning with even greater force, now mixed with the fierce banging of spears on shields, a primal, rhythmic thunder. "FOR UNITY! FOR THE EMPEROR!"
Muchen, standing slightly behind and to the side, felt tears prick his eyes, not from fear, but from the overwhelming, terrifying beauty of it.
He studied his father, the set of his shoulders, the way his eyes swept over the men, making each feel seen, the perfect timing of his pauses, the raw, honest power of his words.
This was not manipulation. This was leadership in its purest form, the ability to take the collective heart of thousands and give it a single, beating purpose.
As the cheers began to naturally subside into a vibrant, focused hum, Lie Fan turned. The fire in his eyes banked slightly as he looked at his son. "Muchen. You have seen the heart of the army. Now, you must see its mind. Go with Zhongda to the command post. Watch. Listen. Learn how the will you just witnessed is turned into action. Generals Zhao Yun, Ma Chao, you are with him."
He then looked at Sima Yi and gave a slight nod. The unspoken order was clear. Keep him safe, and show him everything.
Muchen bowed, the movement feeling inadequate amidst the martial grandeur. "Go safely, Imperial Father," he said, the words heartfelt.
Lie Fan offered him a brief, confident smile, then his face hardened once more into the mask of the Generalissimo. He turned to Zhang Liao, Huang Zhong, and Taishi Ci, who had remained like steadfast rocks amidst the cheering sea. "Marshals. Is the army ready?"
Zhang Liao stepped forward, his voice steady and solid as iron. "Your Majesty, the reinforcements you brought are fully integrated. All divisions report ready. The siege engines are loaded and ranged. The men… as you can hear… are more than ready. They await only your command."
A fierce, predatory smirk spread across Lie Fan's face. It was the same expression Muchen had seen the night before when he spoke of taunting Cao Cao. "Good. Then let us not keep our host waiting any longer. It is time to show Cao Cao that the title 'God of War' was not retired when I took the throne."
He hefted his halberd, its blade catching the morning sun. With Zhang Liao, Huang Zhong, and Taishi Ci falling into step beside and slightly behind him, he began walking toward the very front of the formation, where the first wave of assault troops waited in tense silence.
The path cleared before him, soldiers parting with awe struck faces, their cheers now swallowed by a breathless, monumental silence.
From the newly erected command post, a sturdy platform with a canopy, set on a hillock with a clear view of the entire front, Muchen watched, his heart hammering against his ribs. Sima Yi stood beside him, a model of calm analysis.
Flanking them were Zhao Yun and Ma Chao, their hands resting on their weapons, their eyes constantly scanning not the battlefield, but the surroundings of the post itself. Around the platform stood Chen Deng, Zang Hong, Xu Shu, Pang Tong, Zhuge Jin, and Lu Zhi, a brain trust of empire, their faces grimly intent.
Sima Yi's eyes were fixed on the small, armored figure of Lie Fan as he reached the forefront. He raised a hand. Behind him, a massive signal drum, its surface taut as a thundercloud, waited. The drummer, a giant of a man with arms like tree trunks, held his mallets poised.
On the plain, Lie Fan stopped. He looked once toward Hongnong's walls, then back at his army. He raised his halberd high above his head, the signal unmistakable.
Sima Yi's hand chopped down. "Now."
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The numerous drumbeat was deep enough to feel in the chest. It echoed across the silent plain, a sound of pure, unfettered commencement.
From his position, Muchen saw his father's mouth open. Though he was too far to hear the words, he saw the command shaped on his lips, saw the halberd sweep forward in a decisive, cutting arc.
"KILL!"
The word was lost, but its effect was instantaneous.
The Hengyuan Army, the patient, cheering giant of moments before, exploded into violent motion. A roar that dwarfed all previous cheers erupted from ten thousand throats, a roar of release, of fury, of long pent up aggression.
The first wave of infantry, shields locked, surged forward like a tidal wave of steel and leather, flooding toward the base of the walls. From behind the lines, the siege engines sang their own terrible song.
Trebuchets groaned and thwacked, sending massive stones arcing through the sky toward the battlements. Catapults and Hwachas loosed volleys of smaller, deadly projectiles. Clouds of arrows, so thick they darkened the sun for a moment, rose in a hissing black wave before descending upon the city walls.
Hongnong, which had been a silent, brooding monument, suddenly came alive with its own frantic energy. Drums and bells clamored from within. The walls, which had seemed empty, now bristled with defenders.
Shields rose to meet the arrow storm. Cauldrons of oil were tipped onto fires, ready to be poured. Archers returned fire, their arrows a thinner but deadly counterpoint.
The world dissolved into a chaos of sound and motion. The distant thuds of stones hitting walls, the sharper cracks of wood splintering, the faint, terrible screams that somehow carried all the way to the command post.
Muchen stood frozen, his scholarly lessons, his spear training, his imagined visions, all of it evaporated. This was reality. It was vast, it was deafening, and it was horrifically beautiful in its orchestrated destruction.
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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