Umapyoi: The Liu Mao Edition

[Li Jue (Zhiren) — Hongnong]

"What's with the long face?"

At the sound of that infuriatingly carefree voice drifting in from the side, the irritation that had been quietly festering inside Li Jue, Grand Marshal of the Han Dynasty—a title acquired through sheer coercion—finally erupted like a volcano.

Guo Si, that brainless bastard.

Now was hardly the time to be strutting about with a grin on his face, lost in the ecstasy of pillaging. Not that Li Jue had made any move to restrain his own soldiers from looting, of course. Had he dared to try, the very next item looted from this camp would have been his own severed head. Even so, if a man fancied himself a Grand General—self-proclaimed though it was—shouldn't he possess at least a single functioning brain cell?

"Aren't you even a little worried?" Li Jue snapped.

"...Not particularly. Why should I be?"

Amid the sheer chaos of the pursuit, an arrow loosed from their own ranks had struck the Emperor, inflicting a mortal wound. If the boy breathed his last because of it, the two of them would be branded as the realm's greatest traitors overnight. Yet this swaggering brute had spent the entire morning casually violating stranded palace maids, only now bothering to drag his feet back to camp.

Just as Li Jue opened his mouth to deliver a searing tongue-lashing, unable to stomach the insolence a second longer, Guo Si muttered a blunt rejoinder.

"When were we ever not rebels?"

Li Jue's jaw clamped shut. Try as he might to refute it, the words rang painfully true.

"So let's just loot everything we can get our hands on and run."

It was a statement that practically ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠begged for a fist to the teeth.

"If you don't want to, then don't."

This motherfucker...!

Had this entire catastrophe not been set into motion in the first place because Guo Si had forgotten his station and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠picked a petty feud? Naturally, Guo Si had his own excuses, but Li Jue couldn't care less about them. Still, trade blows and litigate who was right and wrong right now was out of the question. With nowhere left to vent, Li Jue's aimless fury locked onto the unknown idiot who had put an arrow through the Son of Heaven.

"I told them to capture the Emperor alive, not slaughter him! Just which brainless bastard pulled that bow?!"

[Liu Mao (Name Pending) — Yizhou, AD 189]

In my past life, I, Seo Yoon-deok, was a Three Kingdoms otaku to the bone.

Not only had I devoured both the official Records of the Three Kingdoms and the romanticized novel dozens of times over, but I had also sunk hours into every single video game adaptation on the market, no matter how abysmal the gameplay was. That said, getting run over in a sudden traffic accident and waking up inside a trash game universe was never on my bucket list—especially not a gender-bent Koihime-style spin-off populated entirely by women.

Still, once a Three Kingdoms fan finds himself deposited into the era of heroes, striving for the unification of the realm is basic professional courtesy. And fortunately, my starting hand wasn't half bad.

"Young Master, the Governor requests your presence."

"I shall depart the moment I finish dressing. Please wait outside."

I tried to infuse my voice with as much dignity as possible, though the high-pitched squeak of a young child naturally undermined the effect. Even so, it was more than enough to prompt the household attendants to whisper in awe about how the third young master was truly cut from a different cloth.

"Let us go."

Straightening my neatly draped robes, I stepped out of the chamber to greet my new father in this world. Making my way toward the Governor's official residence, I raised my eyes to behold the magnificent, undulating mountain ranges stretching into the far distance. This was Mianzhu, the provisional administrative capital of Yizhou.

Yes, that very same Yizhou—the blessed basin that would later serve as the unshakable foundation for that big-eared rogue to carve out an empire of his own. While the Central Plains might be the hottest theater of war in the Han empire right now, Yizhou was an exceptional starting point for a strategic campaign.

"Father, your son is here."

"Come in."

Seated upright within the sun-drenched, spacious hall was a man of dignified bearing, a gentle smile gracing his features. His name was Liu Yan, courtesy name Junlang, the Governor of Yizhou. A scion of the imperial Han clan, he had once held the exalted post of Grand Minister of Ceremonies before discerning the approaching storm of chaos and petitioning for a frontier posting to build his own independent power base. An ambitious patriarch—and my father.

"I pay my respects to Father."

"Welcome, my boy. Are your studies progressing smoothly?"

"Yes, Father. Today I was reading the Spring and Autumn Annals."

"Oh?"

After a brief, ordinary exchange between father and son, he swiftly cut to the heart of the matter, as though pressed by urgent news.

"The situation in Luoyang grows perilous. It appears the General-in-Chief has finally resolved to act."

It was top-tier intelligence, hardly suitable for the ears of a boy who had yet to see his tenth year. But by parading around as a 'child prodigy' using my encyclopedic knowledge of Three Kingdoms history, I had already secured my father's undivided favor and trust.

"He will not achieve his aims," I answered without hesitation.

"And why do you say that? The General-in-Chief has already eliminated the Regular Attendant Jian Shuo and seized military command of the capital. No matter how cunning the Ten Attendants may be, what moves do they have left?"

Though he was probing my reasoning, the gaze he leveled at his third son was brimming with fondness and anticipation. That's how much he trusts my insight.

"Though Suigao currently struts with imperial authority in the seat of General-in-Chief, he is by nature an indecisive man. He cannot easily defy the wishes of Empress Dowager He. Both of them owe debts of gratitude to the eunuchs, and the Empress Dowager is insatiably greedy; thus, he will hesitate and fail to strike decisively against them."

"Then you believe those wretched eunuchs will survive once more?"

"Though Suigao himself is a man of little consequence, he has gathered advisors who fancy themselves sharp strategists. They will surely seek another path. However, because they rely on underhanded schemes rather than the righteous path, it is doubtful whether their designs will ever come to fruition."

Not just doubtful—it's going to fail spectacularly. I simply softened the phrasing so I wouldn't sound like a supernatural soothsayer.

"Indeed... It is said that a great fire broke out at Mengjin near Luoyang. Rumors claim it was the work of the Black Mountain Bandits, but it is almost certainly the handiwork of Yuan Benchu."

The Black Mountain Bandits were a rebel coalition toward whom the eunuchs had previously extended appeasement policies. Yuan Shao was clearly orchestrating a false-flag operation to manufacture an excuse to purge the eunuchs. To be frank, there were already ten thousand legitimate reasons to execute those royal scoundrels; orchestrating clumsy arson struck me as utterly redundant.

Suigao is just wasting his breath and digging his own grave.

As I amused myself with historical puns that would make a twenty-first-century Korean cringe, my father, growing impatient, demanded the ultimate summary.

"Then, between the two factions, who do you believe will emerge victorious?"

"Both possess formidable strength, and their hatred for each other runs bone-deep. In my humble estimation, both will perish together, and a third party will reap the fisherman's profit from the chaos."

"...Yet, would not Benchu, who commands the backing of all the noble scholars under heaven, hold the advantage?"

Tsk, tsk. Your faith is still lacking, old man.

Not that it mattered. Once Dong Zhuo marched in and seized absolute power over the court, my father's valuation of my foresight would skyrocket. After exchanging a few more practical thoughts regarding the governance of Yizhou, I bowed and withdrew from the study.

The Han Dynasty is officially done for.

A prickle of urgency began to tug at my chest. There were still plenty of local magnates in Yizhou who looked down upon Liu Yan as an outsider encroaching on their territory. We needed to consolidate our domestic foundation as swiftly as possible and seize the opportunity to absorb Hanzhong. And of course, along the way, I had to ensure that big-eared Liu Bei was quietly snuffed out before he could grow into a menace.

Still, the most terrifying adversary of all is Cao Cao.

Cao Cao's true ascent would begin only after he accepted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Xun Yu's counsel and took custody of the Emperor, embarking on the path of 'holding the Son of Heaven to command the nobles.' In truth, it wasn't as if we lacked the opportunity to thwart Cao Cao's plan to escort the Emperor. The real issue was that seizing the Emperor offered very little practical benefit to me.

What to do about this...

Did our faction—or rather, did I—truly need the Son of Heaven? Cao Cao had managed to extract maximum leverage from the imperial brand, but even modern historians fiercely debated the true cost-benefit ratio of holding the Emperor. Think of the endless headaches Cao Cao endured: secret edicts written in blood, perpetual legitimacy crises, and constant assassination conspiracies from inside his own court.

Besides, I'm an imperial clan member myself. If push comes to shove, I can just follow Liu Bei's playbook and proclaim my own legitimacy...

The more I weighed it, the more holding the Emperor seemed like a poison pill. And yet, handing such an absurdly powerful card over to Cao Cao for free felt unbearable. As my thoughts turned round and round, my gamer intellect finally converged upon a singular, radical gamble.

Wait... Is this really the play? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It sounds completely insane no matter how you look at it.

Yet how did men throughout history typically respond when faced with a profoundly, undeniably stupid idea?

Let's prepare it immediately.

The answer had been decided from the very start.

[Liu Mao (Shuyu) — Yizhou, AD 194]

"Your elder brother is preparing to subjugate the disloyal rebels in Chang'an alongside General Who Pacifies the West Ma Teng and General Who Suppresses the West Han Sui."

My father Liu Yan spoke in hushed tones, yet he could not completely mask the fervent excitement coursing beneath his words. And understandably so: if this venture succeeded, they could pacify Chang'an in a single stroke and welcome the Emperor into our embrace. A natural surge of ambition.

Yes... assuming it succeeded.

This was the very window of opportunity where we could prevent Cao Cao from claiming the Emperor. But in original history, this coup fell apart in the most disastrous fashion imaginable.

In AD 194, Ma Teng, whom Dong Zhuo had summoned and Li Jue had stationed at Mei, requested grain provisions from the court. When his petition was flatly refused, he resolved to assault Chang'an. Inside the capital, Attendant Ma Yu, Grand Counselor Zhong Shao, and Left General of the Household Liu Fan agreed to act as internal conspirators. Yet before the plan could even be executed, the plot leaked; every co-conspirator within Chang'an was beheaded, and Ma Teng suffered a catastrophic defeat at the hands of Guo Si and Fan Chou.

That Left General of the Household, Liu Fan, was none other than my eldest brother.

You might ask why I didn't step in to save him, possessing full foreknowledge of history. To begin with, I had no clue how the conspiracy had leaked. Furthermore, Ma Teng getting crushed by Guo Si on an open battlefield was a military matter involving foreign armies entirely beyond my control.

And... to be brutally honest, if this grand undertaking were to succeed, the rightful heir to Liu Yan's seat would not be me, but my eldest brother. That would be exceedingly inconvenient. There is an inherent ceiling to remaining the second or third in command. Moreover, brothers who have once vied for succession are rarely granted vital authority once the victor ascends the throne.

And so, swallowing my bitter tears, I resolved to let history take its course on this matter. However, my father, devastated by the simultaneous deaths of both his sons serving at court, was destined to fall ill from grief and pass away shortly thereafter—that was an outcome I absolutely had to prevent. Original history recorded that Liu Mao died young, but seeing his brilliant third son alive, healthy, and exceptionally gifted, wouldn't his grief be somewhat lessened? Ah, and I also needed to prepare for the massive fire destined to consume Mianzhu around this time.

The work just never ends.

I would have to double-check the preparations for the wildcard I had set aside for Emperor Xian's flight from Chang'an. Now, the die was truly cast.

A year drifted past, bringing with it the fateful winter.

By now, Emperor Xian should have reached the banks of the Yellow River. Was my plan proceeding smoothly? Had the assassins faltered at the critical juncture due to inadequate mental conditioning? In truth, when I first drafted this plot, the most agonizing hurdle had been procuring soldiers who wouldn't hesitate to loose an arrow directly at the Son of Heaven. To the people of this era, the Emperor possessed an almost sacred, inviolable aura. That was why, during the grueling years of preparation, the aspect I poured the most obsessive care into was the ideological brainwashing of my shadow squad.

That was right. My grand scheme was to assassinate the Emperor under the cover of the chaotic exodus from Chang'an.

What if Cao Cao, deprived of the Emperor, ended up losing to Yuan Shao? In my eyes, dealing with Yuan Shao was far easier than facing a fully realized, prime Cao Cao. Yuan Shao was the type whose administrative flaws multiplied the larger his organization grew. Furthermore, if Emperor Xian died abruptly without an heir, it would be infinitely easier for an imperial scion like myself to declare an imperial restoration and claim the throne later down the line.

It's maddening not knowing the outcome in real time. How long will it take for word to travel back to Yizhou?

Just to be safe, I had ordered every single assassin to commit suicide upon completing the mission, regardless of success or failure. Ultimately, I would only learn the truth once the Emperor's demise was proclaimed across the provinces. Yet my agonizing suspense was broken from a direction I had never in my wildest dreams anticipated.

A mechanical, crystalline chime rang directly inside my skull—the very voice of the System that I had desperately shouted for throughout my childhood without receiving a shred of response!

It worked!

While the sudden awakening of the System at this late hour was baffling, the sheer euphoria of knowing my once-in-a-lifetime gamble had paid off eclipsed every shred of doubt.

"Behold, you feudal, ancient primitives steeped in blind despotism!" I roared in triumph. "Witness the indomitable ambition of a modern man!"

"What are you babbling about? 'Mandate of Heaven' is just the title of this godforsaken trash game! Are you finally granting me my starter perks?!"

"It's a celebration! Strike up the instruments! Let the music play! Umapyoi~"

"Uma-uma~ Umapyoi~!"

"Y-Young Master?!"

"Shuyu! Pull yourself together, lad!"