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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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He wore his absolute heaviest, most magnificent suit of bespoke battle armor, a masterpiece of overlapping black steel scales, accented with gold dragons roaring across the breastplate. He did not wear a helmet, allowing the freezing wind to whip his dark hair around his face. He looked out at the sea of Hengyuan banners. He looked at the men who were about to march into the frozen unknown for his ambition.
Lie Fan raised his right hand.
The silence deepened, becoming absolute. Every single eye in the vast, sprawling army locked onto the figure of their Emperor standing against the dawn sky.
When Lie Fan spoke, he did not shout, yet through a masterful command of breath and the sheer, booming resonance of his voice, his words rolled across the frozen plains like a clap of thunder, reaching the ears of the tens of thousands standing before him.
"Soldiers of the Hengyuan Dynasty!" Lie Fan's voice roared, a highly rousing and deeply passionate eruption of sound that sent shivers down the spines of the veterans. "Look around you! Look at the iron you wear! Look at the brothers standing shoulder to shoulder beside you! You are the greatest, most terrifying instrument of war this earth has ever forged!"
He swept his arm out, pointing a gauntleted finger directly toward the northern horizon, where the distant, invisible line of the Great Wall lay.
"For four hundred years, the men who ruled this land cowered in fear!" Lie Fan bellowed, his voice dripping with venomous disdain for the past. "The Han Emperors built walls of stone and hid behind them. They allowed the nomadic barbarians, the raiders of the steppes, to steal our grain, burn our frontier villages, and slaughter our people! They believed the freezing grass of the north was a boundary that civilized men could not cross!"
Lie Fan slammed his fist against his breastplate, the metallic clang ringing out sharply.
"We are not the Han!" Lie Fan declared, his voice vibrating with a visionary, unyielding fury. "We are the Hengyuan Dynasty! We do not hide behind walls! We are marching to completely and permanently defeat the nomadic barbarians! We are marching into the freezing grass, into the very heart of their winter pastures, to accomplish what absolutely no Emperors in the past have ever dared to do!"
The air grew electric. The men gripping their weapons felt their blood begin to boil, the freezing temperature entirely forgotten in the face of their sovereign's intoxicating charisma.
"We do not march for simple revenge! We do not march to steal their horses!" Lie Fan's voice rose to a terrifying, passionate crescendo. "We march to permanently end the endless cycle of fear and raids on our northern borders! I will not allow your children to grow up looking at the horizon in terror! I will not allow a single blade of Hengyuan grass to be trampled by the hooves of a raiding horde ever again!"
He stepped to the very precipice of the wooden platform, looking down at the ocean of upturned faces, his eyes burning with the fires of an eternal conqueror.
"We are marching to conquer the vast, expansive fields of the northern lands! We will shatter their Khans! We will break their confederations into dust! And we will claim the infinite steppes entirely as the Hengyuan Dynasty's new domain!"
Lie Fan roared, throwing his hands up toward the heavens. "The world does not end at the Great Wall! The world ends where our marching boots say it ends!"
For a fraction of a second, the silence returned, hanging heavily in the frigid air.
And then, the eruption occurred.
It started at the vanguard, a guttural, primal roar of absolute, fanatical devotion, and swept backward through the ranks like a tidal wave of sound. Hundreds of thousands of men threw their weapons into the air.
The heavy infantry slammed their halberds against their towering shields, creating a rhythmic, deafening drumbeat that shook the very foundations of the earth beneath Xiapi.
"LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR! BLOOD FOR THE DRAGON! DEATH TO THE NORTH!"
The chant was a physical force, a wall of sound that terrified the birds from the trees for miles around. Lu Lingqi drew her halberd, holding it high, her female battalion echoing the war cry with fierce, terrifying precision. The massive warhorses reared, catching the infectious, violent energy of the army.
Lie Fan stood on the platform, bathed in the morning light, letting the roar of his invincible war machine wash over him. He had taken a fractured, bleeding continent and forged it into an unstoppable hammer.
He looked toward the north, toward the dark, looming shadows of the future, and smiled a cold, ruthless smile.
Lie Fan lowered his hand and turned to his generals.
"Sound the horns," the Emperor commanded softly. "Let the earth tremble."
A dozen massive, hollowed out ox horns were blown, their deep, mournful wail signaling the end of the peace. The endless columns of black iron and crimson silk began to turn, marching in perfect unison toward the frozen horizon.
The Hengyuan Dynasty was marching to war, once again and the world would never be the same again.
Lie Fan, riding atop his massive, heavily armored Pangu, led the colossal main force of the Imperial Army directly toward Bing Province.
According to the grand strategic plan drafted in the quiet, tension filled rooms of the capital, this central column would act as the primary, devastating anvil of the invasion. They were to attack straight from the middle, driving a wedge of pure iron and industrialized fury directly into the heart of the nomadic territories.
Of course, the sheer, logistical reality of marching hundreds of thousands of heavily armed soldiers across the continent still demanded a considerable amount of time. It was an undertaking that strained the very limits of human organization. The ground itself seemed to groan under the collective weight of the legions, the cavalry, and the artillery trains.
Even though the vital, life sustaining supplies and military logistics were being heavily and unprecedentedly sped up by being transported north using the newly finished wagonways rails, it still took an agonizing amount of time.
The sheer volume of food, weaponry, armor, medical supplies, and black powder required to sustain an invasion force of this magnitude was incredibly massive.
The wagonways were an absolute miracle of modern engineering, allowing a single draft horse to pull what would have previously required ten, but the iron rails did not yet extend much to the far north. It had, after all, only been a relatively short time since the colossal project was officially ordered to be made for the entire domain of Hengyuan.
Where the rails ended in the northern commanderies, the true, grueling reality of ancient logistics resumed. Mountains of grain, thousands of barrels of cured meats, and endless crates of high explosive shells had to be manually transferred from the smooth gliding rail carriages onto traditional, heavy wooden supply wagons.
From the railheads, it was a battle against the elements. The roads were muddy, slick with the morning frost, and deeply rutted by the passage of millions of marching boots and iron shod hooves.
Yet, despite the immense challenges, the supply lines did not break. The meticulous planning of Xun You and Sima Yi held firm.
Time passed by steadily as Lie Fan led his army, marching relentlessly to the north toward the looming shadow of the Great Wall. It was a brutal, punishing journey which would take a month or two just to reach the staging grounds. As autumn bled into early winter, the temperatures plummeted.
The air grew sharp and biting, stinging the lungs of the soldiers, and a permanent layer of white frost began to coat the black steel of their armor every morning.
But the spirit of the Hengyuan army did not waver. They were fueled by thick wool, hot meals, and the terrifying, intoxicating presence of their Emperor, who rode at their head through every freezing gale and sleet storm. Lie Fan did not seek the warmth of a covered carriage, he suffered the biting winds alongside his men, cementing their fanatical devotion with every mile they conquered.
When two grueling months finally passed by, the landscape began to rise into jagged, unforgiving ridges. The freezing winds howled down from the steppes, carrying the scent of dry grass and snow. And there, cutting across the mountainous horizon like a sleeping stone serpent, stood their destination.
Lie Fan and his massive forces finally arrived at the towering, ancient gates of the Great Wall in Bing Province.
Looking up at the colossal stone fortifications that had stood for centuries as the psychological and physical barrier between civilization and the untamed wilds, the soldiers of the central column let out a unified, thunderous cheer. They had reached the edge of the world.
At this time, the grand, continent spanning formation of the northern campaign was finally, flawlessly set into motion.
Hundreds of miles to the west, the Western Command had fully mobilized. Under the brilliant and steadfast leadership of General Taishi Ci, they would be attacking directly from the rugged, mountainous terrain of Liang Province.
Taishi Ci commanded the hardened veterans of the western frontiers, men who had spent their entire lives fighting in the dust and the cold, alongside the Yi Province Army and of course the fierce, newly integrated tribal cavalry that bowed to the Hengyuan banner.
Hundreds of miles to the east, the Northern Command was equally prepared. Under the command of the legendary veteran Huang Zhong, they would be attacking from the freezing, coastal expanses of You Province.
Huang Zhong brought with him the absolute finest marksmen and heavy crossbow divisions the empire possessed, ready to unleash a rain of iron upon the Wuhuan territories and prevent any eastern flanking maneuvers.
Combined with the central thrust led by Lie Fan, this unified, trident army gathered to attack the nomadic tribes numbered an astounding, incomprehensible one million men.
It was the absolute biggest number of troops that was ever recorded in the history of the land to date. Never before had so much steel, so much discipline, and so much destructive potential been concentrated toward a single, unified purpose. The earth itself seemed to tremble beneath the combined weight of a million marching boots, millions of hooves, and thousands of bronze cannon barrels.
As the colossal Central Command Army under Lie Fan began the monumental task of setting up their sprawling, city sized camp and resting after their long, incredibly grueling two-month march, the Emperor did not afford himself a single moment of respite.
While the common soldiers set up their thick woolen tents and lit thousands of roaring campfires to ward off the freezing Bing Province winds, the center of the encampment was already buzzing with high level strategic activity.
A massive, heavy canvas command tent, dyed in the imperial colors of black and gold, was quickly erected. Inside, braziers filled with smokeless charcoal were lit, driving away the bitter cold.
A massive wooden table was carried in and immediately covered with the most detailed, highly classified topographical maps of the northern steppes that the empire's scouts and spies had managed to compile.
Lie Fan, still wearing his heavy, frost bitten battle armor, immediately called for a high level military meeting. There was no time to celebrate the successful march; the true war was about to begin.
The heavy flaps of the command tent were pulled back, and the absolute zenith of the Hengyuan Dynasty's martial and intellectual power filed into the room.
Inside the command tent, other than Emperor Lie Fan standing at the head of the map table, there was, of course, Lu Lingqi. She stepped into the warm tent, her customized dark silver armor clinking softly. Her face was flushed from the freezing wind, but her eyes burned with an incredibly fierce, untamed excitement. She had brought her elite female soldiers battalion precisely as promised, and she was more than ready to unleash them.
Following her were the peerless generals, the living legends of the era who had carved the empire out of the warlord chaos.
Zhang Liao entered, his scarred face set in a mask of grim, absolute determination. Beside him was Zhao Yun, the Silver Dragon, looking remarkably pristine and composed despite the two month march, his aura of flawless precision entirely unbroken.
Ma Chao strode in next. True to the Emperor's word, he had been allowed to stay behind for the birth of his son, Ma Yuan, but he had ridden out with the main imperial army when it departed Xiapi, and he was now practically vibrating with the lethal, pent up energy of a caged tiger smelling blood.
Dian Wei, who was known as the Hengyuan's Dynasty immovable mountain of a general, stood near the entrance of the tent, his massive twin halberds resting easily in his tree trunk arms, his terrifying presence ensuring absolute security.
And finally, Gao Shun, the stoic, silent master of the Camp Crushers, took his place at the table, a man whose very existence was dedicated to breaking the unbreakable.
As for the brilliant advisors, the men who orchestrated the logistics of apocalypse, they gathered on the opposite side of the map table.
There was the Grand Commandant Xun You, his analytical eyes already scanning the parchment. Beside him stood Sima Yi, the Minister of War, his mind constantly calculating the exact burn rate of their grain supplies. Lu Xun, the Grand Bailiff and the brilliant young tactician, leaned over the map, looking for terrain advantages, while Xu Shu, a master of unconventional strategy and deep layered planning, stood quietly, observing the flow of the impending discussion.
The air in the tent was heavy, electric, and entirely devoid of the usual courtly pleasantries. They were on the edge of the world, and there was only war left to discuss.
The discussion opened immediately with the most crucial, foundational matter of any massive, multi pronged invasion, the communication lines between the three massive armies.
In a pre industrial era, coordinating a million men across hundreds of miles of freezing, hostile terrain was practically impossible. A delayed order could mean the slaughter of an entire flank. Xun You stepped forward, his expression one of calm, absolute certainty, to ensure the Emperor that the line of communication was very well established.
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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