Reborn In The Three Kingdoms-Chapter 994 - Capítulo 994: 944. Emperor Xian Confrontation With Fa, Zhang, & Meng

Capítulo 994: 944. Emperor Xian Confrontation With Fa, Zhang, & Meng
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That, at least, gave the crowd pause, brief, uncertain, but the three men reacted faster. Fa Zheng stepped forward immediately, lips pulled in that delicate half smile that always seemed carved just to mock the world. “We hear and obey, Your Majesty,” he said, tone smooth, casual, as if he was humoring a child rather than addressing an emperor.
Zhang Song nodded with a practiced look of humble obedience.
Meng Da let out a quiet sigh, as though he were sacrificing precious time for the emperor’s sake.
Fa Zheng then turned to the remaining stragglers and flicked his sleeve.
That one gesture was enough.
The rest of the officials lowered their heads and scurried out.
No one waited for Emperor Xian to repeat himself.
No one lingered to see whether the emperor approved.
They listened to Fa Zheng, not to him.
And when the last sandal slid across the polished floor, when the last corner of a minister’s robe slipped through the doors… the hall finally fell still.
Only four men remained.
Emperor Xian. Fa Zheng. Zhang Song. Meng Da.
A court in name, but a prison in truth.
The heavy doors closed again with a deep, somber boom, sealing the four of them inside.
Fa Zheng stepped forward first, hands folded behind him, posture elegant, composed, the very picture of a loyal official, if one ignored the glint of amusement in his eyes.
“What would His Majesty like to discuss with us?” he asked, his tone so calm it bordered on insulting.
Emperor Xian inhaled deeply.
He could feel the tremor of anger under his skin, coiled like a serpent waiting to strike. He tried, he truly tried, to summon the serenity of an emperor, to speak with the controlled dignity his position demanded.
But the humiliation of earlier still throbbed in his chest like a wound.
“The letter,” he said, his voice strained but steady. “The letter to Hengyuan. The proposal. Why—” His fingers tightened around the armrest. “Why was the content changed?”
For a heartbeat, the hall remained still.
Not even dust dared to move.
And then…
Fa Zheng tilted his head.
“Changed?” he echoed softly. “What does His Majesty mean by ‘changed’?”
The casual innocence in his voice scraped across Emperor Xian’s nerves like a blade.
“Do not,” Emperor Xian whispered, “act as though the three of you do not know exactly what I am speaking of.”
His voice cracked for the first time.
He hated that.
Fa Zheng stared at him for a moment, and then, slow, unhurried, deliberate, he let out a chuckle.
It wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t mocking on the surface.
But it carried a weight that pressed onto Emperor Xian’s lungs.
“Why,” Fa Zheng asked softly, “is His Majesty surprised that we would do this?”
Emperor Xian blinked.
Those words, those unguarded, unfiltered words, were something he had never expected from Fa Zheng. Not because Fa Zheng lacked boldness, but because he never needed to speak truth aloud when he already controlled everything from the shadows.
Fa Zheng continued, voice as calm as a scholar reading poetry.
“Everyone here knows who controls this court. The officials know. The guards know. The eunuchs know.” He paused. “And even His Majesty knows.”
Emperor Xian felt something inside his chest go cold.
Because Fa Zheng had not spoken these words with violence, or hatred, or even triumph.
He had spoken them with certainty.
With confidence.
With the quiet, unshakable assurance of a man stating a simple fact of nature, like the sky being blue or the earth being solid.
Zhang Song stepped forward next, hands tucked into his sleeves, expression almost sympathetic, but not truly.
“We changed the letter,” Zhang Song said, “because it was what Han needed.”
Emperor Xian’s breath hitched.
Zhang Song continued, his tone soft, patient, as though explaining something trivial to a stubborn boy:
“Your Majesty must see the truth. Han is weak. We are surrounded by wolves. We have lost the hearts of the people, the control of the provinces, the respect of the generals. If we do not attach ourselves to Hengyuan, Han will not last.”
He lowered his head slightly.
“His Majesty has proven unable to stabilize the court. The land trembles. The armies scatter. In such times, weakness invites disaster.”
Emperor Xian’s heartbeat pounded against his ribs.
Weak.
Weak Emperor.
The word didn’t just cut, it buried itself deep inside him, clawing at every fear he had ever swallowed.
He had been called many things in private corners of the palace. Cowardly. Inexperienced. Helpless. Puppet. But never, not once, had anyone dared to say it openly.
And certainly not in front of him.
Right after Zhang Song finished speaking, the hall trembled, not from the earth, but from the sharp, violent sound of Emperor Xian slamming his fist on the armrest of his throne.
The crack rang through the chamber.
His voice followed it, raw and fierce, the closest thing to imperial fury he had shown in years.
“You—” His breath shook. “The three of you have no right, no right, to call me a weak Emperor!”
Zhang Song blinked, momentarily startled.
Meng Da lifted his head slightly, brows raised.
But Fa Zheng… only smiled.
Emperor Xian continued, his voice trembling not from fear but from fury long suppressed:
“I could have been strong! I could have ruled! But you—” He pointed at them, hand shaking. “You have tripped me at every step. You have schemed behind my back. You have undermined every command I gave!”
His chest heaved.
His breath hitched.
“You speak of Han’s survival, of protecting the dynasty, of safeguarding the people. Lies!” His voice cracked again. “All lies you created to justify tightening chains around my throat!”
Fa Zheng said nothing.
Zhang Song lowered his gaze but not in shame.
Meng Da sighed, as though listening to the tantrum of a stubborn child.
Emperor Xian’s nails dug so deeply into the armrest that his fingers began to ache.
“All your talk of Han’s safety…” he whispered, voice hoarse. “All your clever words, all your warnings, all your pleas… it was never about Han. It was about power. Power for yourselves. Power you hide behind the façade of loyalty. To do whatever you want.”
Silence swallowed the room.
A silence heavier than stone.
A silence in which Emperor Xian felt, for the first time in years, that he had spoken like a man, like someone who still possessed a sliver of dignity.
His chest rose and fell.
His hands trembled openly now.
But he kept his gaze locked onto them, the three men who had carved out his authority piece by piece, who had used his throne as a seat for their own ambitions.
Finally, Fa Zheng inhaled slowly.
He stepped forward, closing two of the steps between them, his expression shifting, not into anger, nor panic, nor mockery.
But into something far worse.
Calm superiority.
“Your Majesty,” Fa Zheng said softly, “you speak of schemes. Of obstacles. Of chains.” He paused, letting his words settle like ash. “But look around you.”
He gestured toward the empty hall.
“Who came when you ordered the court to stay?”
The words stabbed deeper than any blade.
Emperor Xian couldn’t respond.
Fa Zheng continued.
“Who bowed because you commanded it? Who obeyed because you willed it? Who trembled because you raised your voice?”
The emperor’s throat tightened.
The truth was unbearable.
No one.
No one came. No one bowed. No one trembled.
The court obeyed them.
Zhang Song stepped forward, tone still soft but now edged with something colder.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “we call you weak because you allowed yourself to be made weak.”
“Zhang Song!” Emperor Xian barked, face flushing red.
But Zhang Song did not flinch.
“Strength,” Zhang Song said, “is not given. It is claimed. And Your Majesty has never claimed anything, not power, not authority, not loyalty.”
Meng Da added with a quiet sigh, “We act for Han because you cannot.”
Emperor Xian’s breath shuddered.
He felt his control slipping, slipping like sand through desperate fingers. He struggled to hold onto something, anger, dignity, anything, but it was all sliding away beneath the weight of their words.
His voice came out in a whisper.
“And so you imprisoned me in my own court?”
Fa Zheng smiled again, smooth, composed, elegant.
“Not imprisoned,” he corrected. “Guided.”
“Guided?” Emperor Xian’s voice broke into bitter laughter. “Guided? By rewriting my decree? By humiliating me before foreign envoys? By selling my daughter to secure your own safety?”
Zhang Song responded quietly:
“To secure Han’s future.”
Emperor Xian snapped.
“My daughter’s future?” he spat. “Or your influence? Your position? Your power under Hengyuan’s favor?”
The hall shuddered again with the echo of his words.
For a long moment, none of the three answered.
Not because they lacked words.
But because they didn’t need to.
Their silence was the answer.
And Emperor Xian felt the last thread inside him begin to fray.
He looked at each of them, Fa Zheng with his cold intelligence, Zhang Song with his calculating gentleness, Meng Da with his indifferent ambition.
Three men who had taken his court.
Three men who had taken his authority.
Three men who had finally taken his voice.
And now, they took the last thing he could claim, the right to call himself emperor.
His breath trembled.
The hall spun.
But he did not collapse.
Not yet.
Because he refused to let them see him fall.
He straightened his back.
He steadied his fingers.
And with a voice threaded with both pain and iron, he said:
“You may control this court. You may control the ministers. You may control the words I write and the orders I issue.”
He locked eyes with Fa Zheng.
“But you do not control what comes next.”
Fa Zheng did not blink.
Not when Emperor Xian spoke the words with that trembling, desperate conviction. Not when the air in the hall thickened with tension so heavy it seemed to press down on the bones. Not even when the emperor’s voice strained, quivering, yet grasping at dignity declared.
“You do not control what comes next.”
Most men would have hesitated at that, if only for formality. Most men, even powerful ones, would have paused, wary of the weight behind an emperor’s final line of defense.
But Fa Zheng was not most men.
He kept his gaze locked with Emperor Xian’s as though the emperor had said nothing more consequential than a comment about the weather.
Then, while the hall sat in suffocating silence, he finally responded, his tone light, calm, and dangerously assured.
“No, Your Majesty,” Fa Zheng said softly. “It is you who do not control what comes next.”
Emperor Xian’s breath hitched.
Fa Zheng continued, every word landing like a measured strike:
“You possess no power. No prestige. No loyalty. No fear. And no respect. All of those—” he tapped his chest lightly with a single finger, “—are held by us now.”
Zhang Song and Meng Da did not move. Their faces remained still, composed, unreadable, but they lifted their chins slightly, as though acknowledging the truth of Fa Zheng’s words.
Fa Zheng took a single step closer.
“Your Majesty wishes to speak of futures, of coming events, of what path the empire will take.” His lips curved into that gentle, infuriating half smile. “Then allow me to enlighten you.”
He clasped his hands behind his back.
“Your role,” he said, “is simply to sit upon that throne and enjoy the theater we have prepared.”
Emperor Xian’s fingers dug into the throne’s carved armrests.
Fa Zheng continued, voice smooth as silk:
“And the climax of the performance, the grand finale crafted especially for Your Majesty…” He paused deliberately. “…will be the marriage of Princess Liu Jie to Crown Prince Lie Muchen of Hengyuan.”
The words landed like thunder in Emperor Xian’s skull. Fa Zheng didn’t linger. He didn’t wait for rebuttal. He didn’t watch the emperor unravel. He simply turned on his heel. Zhang Song and Meng Da moved in tandem beside him, their robes swaying in perfect synchrony as though the three of them were the gears of a single, well oiled machine.
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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
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