All Stats 95, But in Yuan Shu's Army
"Cao Cao's too easy, Liu Bei's a bit tough but Guan Yu and Zhang Fei are straight-up broken, and Sun Jian... his position's just too good. Isn't there any lord worth playing after all this time?"
It was the wee hours of some morning in 2025, in a dingy one-room apartment in Seoul. I was chugging the stale broth from a cup of instant ramen, staring blankly at my monitor.
Ten years of grinding Romance of the Three Kingdoms games. Even the hardest difficulties barely gave me a dopamine hit anymore.
"Yan Baekho? Gong Sun Zan? Nah, they're too predictable. I've done the Yan Baekho and Gong Sun Zan challenges so many times I lost count. But if there's no hope at all, it's no fun. They barely leave a mark in history, so immersion sucks too."
As I scrolled through the list of lords, my eyes stopped on one figure. A man in ornate armor, chin haughtily raised. The legitimate son of the prestigious Yuan clan, who had everything yet died miserably without even a sip of honeyed water in the end.
Yuan Shu, courtesy name Gonglu.
"Yeah, Yuan Shu it is. A grand start, but ends in honeyed water. The ultimate negative-hand who squandered the honey pot of Nanyang."
I fired up the editor. New custom officer. Name: my real name. Stats... like that post I saw on the Three Kingdoms forum last time, all 95s? Supposedly, max balanced stats at 95 trigger hidden events, right?
Settings complete. Affiliation: Yuan Shu's forces. Scenario: Anti-Dong Zhuo coalition.
I moved the cursor over the [Start Game] button with a determined expression.
"Alright, let's conquer the world with Yuan Shu. The Honeyed Water Empire strikes back."
Click.
The instant I pressed the mouse button, the monitor screen flickered wildly, and a deafening roar erupted from the PC tower.
"What? What's happening?!"
Static crackled, and my vision went pure white. Agonizing pain seared my retinas like they were burning, followed by a floating sensation like plummeting from a roller coaster, wrapping around my entire body.
"Aaaargh!"
My scream scattered into the void.
"Drag him out! How dare this lowly scum soil my ledgers?!"
A shrill yell like tearing eardrums jolted my eyes open. My head throbbed like it was splitting.
The chill of cold stone floor pressed against my cheek. Dust assaulted my nose, mingled faintly with expensive incense.
"Ugh..."
I tried to rise, but it was impossible. My arms were wrenched back by iron grips.
I wanted to look around, but my vision was blurry. I strained to focus.
Just moments ago, I'd been sitting in my chair. Now I was face-down on cold stone.
Gradually, a massive hall in ancient Chinese style came into view.
Where... am I? A Chinese drama set?
"What are you waiting for? I said cut off that arrogant dog's head!"
The irritable voice rang out again. I lifted my head toward the source.
Atop the dais, a man lounged sideways on a chair draped in tiger skin. Skin pale to the point of pallor, narrow slit eyes, silk robes luxurious to excess, and arrogance radiating from every pore.
I instinctively knew who he was. A face far more sensitive and greedy than his game illustration.
Yuan Shu. He was right in front of me.
"Rear General! I'm innocent! This humble one merely reported that the grain figures in the ledger didn't match..."
Strange archaic words tumbled from my mouth unbidden. It felt like not my memories, but the original owner's, auto-playing.
Quick situational grasp: I'd possessed a low-rank quartermaster in Yuan Shu's army, offended the nitpicky lord, and was about to lose my head.
Crazy... dying right at the start?
The guards on either side hauled me up, dragging me toward the exit. Death's terror surged.
Then—
Thump!
My heart pounded fiercely. Like a massive dam bursting, hot energy exploded through my veins.
The fear and confusion crushing my mind washed away in an instant. In their place surged crystalline clarity, as if tens of thousands of military treatises flooded my brain, and steel courage fearing not a million-man army.
It was like a dream. The guards' grips felt like cotton swabs. Dozens of ways to turn this around calculated themselves.
I planted my feet, resisting the drag.
Screech.
The two burly guards staggered instead.
"Wait!!"
I drew a deep diaphragmatic breath, bellowing from my dantian. Every eye in the hall fixed on me.
Yuan Shu furrowed his brow, setting down his teacup.
"Got last words before you die? Ruining my mood warrants death."
This was Yuan Shu's base, Namyang Wanhyeon. He staked his life on the Yuan clan's prestige—four generations of prime ministers. To him, nothing was more intolerable than incompetence, loss of face, or wounded pride.
I had to turn this crisis into opportunity. To rocket from lowly scribe to strategist, I needed to seize this mad tiger's leash.
I shrugged off the guards lightly, straightened my robes, and met Yuan Shu's gaze squarely.
A lowly official daring eye contact with the Rear General. The ministers gasped.
"Rear General. Chopping off my head is easy. But will you sever the chance to seize the realm with it?"
"What? The realm?"
Yuan Shu scoffed.
"A worm with a long tongue. You, discussing the realm? When you can't even count Nanyang's rice sacks."
"The rice sacks don't match because someone's siphoning them. With treacherous ministers blinding Your Lord's eyes and ears, how can you claim the realm?"
A civilian official beside Yuan Shu paled. That was Yang Hong, Yuan Shu's crony managing supplies.
Yang Hong shrieked.
"You mad dog! Such insolence! Rip out his tongue now!"
"Hold."
Yuan Shu raised a hand. Interest gleamed in his eyes.
"Keep barking. If it's dull, we can rip it out then."
I took a deep breath. My vast knowledge pinpointed Yuan Shu's biggest dilemma.
Sun Jian. The tiger of Jiangdong. Vanguard of the anti-Dong Zhuo coalition, now eyed warily by the lords for winning too much.
As vice-leader, Yuan Shu handled coalition supplies. He feigned joy at Sun Jian's victories but inwardly feared his rise—plus the shadow rivalry with Yuan Shao.
It must be splitting his head.
"Rear General, you're agonizing now: keep supplying Sun Jian at Sagu Guan, or cut him off?"
Yuan Shu's face hardened. I'd hit the mark.
"Sun Jian's a fierce tiger. Feed him too well, he might bite his master; starve him, and there's no one to stop Dong Zhuo. Moreover..."
I lowered my voice, prodding his sore spot.
"...if Sun Jian loses, what will alliance leader Yuan Shao say? 'As expected, the legitimate son Yuan Shu struts, but can't handle men like this bastard son.' He'd mock you."
Bam!
Yuan Shu slammed the table. The teacup flew, shattering on the floor.
"Shut your mouth!! Dare utter that lowly bastard's name before me?!"
The hall froze like thin ice. Ministers prostrated, trembling.
Yuan Shu's Yuan Shao complex was pathological. But I didn't back down. I smiled leisurely.
His rage proved my words landed.
"Angry? Then prove it. Show that the Rear General, legitimate son of a noble house, wields talent far beyond that lowly bastard."
Yuan Shu glared, breathing hard.
"You... clever one. Scratching my itch. Fine, tell me: feed the tiger and risk being bitten—what to do?"
I spoke slowly, clearly.
"Feed the tiger meat, but keep the leash in your hand, General."
"Leash?"
"Supply Sun Jian—lavishly, with surplus grain, wine, and meat. But on one condition: put the supply route and overseer under your most trusted man."
"And that helps how?"
"Sun Jian's a wolf leading the pack. Favors must be repaid. Grant him exceptional treatment, and he'll eagerly vanguard out of gratitude. But if disloyalty stirs..."
I paused.
"Cut the supplies via your overseer. A battlefield tiger starved long enough becomes a housecat. Strike the rat in the trap."
Yuan Shu stroked his chin, pondering.
"Hm... makes sense. Withhold grain and he loses, Yuan Shao mocks; supply blindly, unease. But my man overseeing solves it."
Then Yang Hong smirked slyly, interjecting.
"Rear General, his words sound good but can't be trusted. A nameless scribe spouting stratagems? Surely a Dong Zhuo spy or con man."
Yuan Shu's suspicion flared.
"Right. Yang Hong speaks truth. Trust stems from noble blood. Why trust a rootless worm's tongue?"
Classic Yuan Shu—valuing lineage over talent. Words alone wouldn't sway him. Proof was needed.
"Doubt my mind? Behold my strength."
"Strength?"
"Who is the strongest general guarding this hall?"
Yuan Shu chuckled derisively.
"Ha! A scribbler talks martial prowess? Qi Ling! Qi Ling, where are you?!"
Heavy armored footsteps echoed from a corner. A giant seemingly 8 chi tall strode out.
Yuan Shu's fiercest warrior, Qi Ling. He hefted a trident at least 50 jin, glaring down contemptuously. Then knelt before Yuan Shu.
"You summoned me, my lord?"
"This fool dares boast of arms. Qi Ling, tear his arrogant mouth."
"Understood."
Qi Ling grinned ferociously, regripping his trident.
"Don't worry. One swift blow, painless."
The situation turned dire. Scribe vs. general. Even a child would bet on Qi Ling.
But my body didn't flinch. Qi Ling's moves unfolded crystal-clear: muscle twitches, breath rhythm, center of gravity shift. The world slowed.
Unarmed, I stood, beckoned with a finger.
"Come."
"Insane bastard!"
Qi Ling swung furiously. Whoosh! Air screamed, bone-shattering force.
Ministers screamed, shielding eyes.
But the trident crawled like through mud. I could dodge. No—subdue.
As the blade neared my head, I didn't evade. I stepped half forward, flicked the shaft left with my left hand to deflect, and punched his jaw weak point with my right.
Boom!
The trident grazed my ear, smashing the stone floor. Shards flew.
All expected my blood and flesh. Silence choked the air.
But Qi Ling froze, trident embedded, statue-still. He couldn't move his arm. My fist halted at his throat.
Dead silence.
Qi Ling's eyes quivered.
"......"
I withdrew slowly, bowed with clasped fists.
"General Qi's weapon is heavy, creating an opening. My apologies."
Qi Ling flushed but couldn't deny defeat. He sheathed his trident, bowed to Yuan Shu.
"My lord... I lost. His martial prowess... surpasses mine."
The hall erupted. Yuan Shu gaped at me.
"You... what are you? A scribe who beat Qi Ling?!"
Time for the clincher. I wore the most sincere, confident expression.
Reciting my prepared backstory:
"This one learned strategy and arms from a hermit sage, but base birth blocked my path. Hearing the renowned Rear General seeks talent, I hid my identity, joined your service, and awaited my moment."
"Admiring... me enough to join?"
Yuan Shu's lip twitched.
The man weak to flattery. I piled it on shamelessly.
"Yes. Not hypocrites like Yuan Shao or Cao Cao—only the Rear General, true heir to noble legitimacy, can pacify this chaos. My blade and wisdom serve you alone."
Perfect. It fed his pride, bloodline obsession, and talent hunger.
Yuan Shu sipped honeyed water, laughed heartily.
"Hahaha! Excellent! My eyes don't lie. A kirin like you hid at my feet!"
He commanded instantly.
"Hear this! Henceforth, appoint this man Military Strategist! Yang Hong, open the warehouses—prepare 20,000 dan of grain now."
Yang Hong replied, crestfallen.
"Y-yes..."
Yuan Shu clapped my shoulder.
"Your name?"
"Seowon, sire."
"Good, Seowon. As you said, deliver to Sun Jian. Go yourself, watch him. If disloyal..."
His eyes gleamed serpentine cold.
"...bring his head with that prowess you showed."
Changing to official robes, exiting the hall, cold sweat trickled down my back.
Barely survived. No—now it begins.
Yuan Shu acknowledged me, but not full trust. Prove my worth fast to solidify position, ultimately pacify the realm.
Dark clouds gathered overhead. Nanyang's wind chilled.
"Hoo..."
I clenched my trembling fist.
Godlike stats, but my lord was history's worst—Yuan Shu.
Still doable. Hell, fun.
I smirked. Tired of hero clichés. Turning trash lord to emperor, turning doomed house to—that's my true ending.
"Wait up, Sun Jian. And Hua Xiong. Big bro's coming."
Worst case, defect to Cao Cao. That talent collector won't ignore me.
I mounted my allotted horse toward Sagu Guan. Thousands of grain wagons trailed.
History's wheel began veering off track.