Hijacking the Three Kingdoms with My System

Chapter 12: The Skies of Luoyang Burn & The Dragon's Deadly Joke

The air on the hill was still thick with tension, even though the clash of steel had ceased. The metallic tang of blood evaporating from the dusty ground mixed with the savory scent of leftover KFC fried chicken bones Jo Fan had just been chewing on.

Down below, the Coalition forces were still roaring like madmen. They celebrated the God of War’s retreat as if they’d just won a world war. Victory horns blared, one after another.

Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei ascended the hill, approaching Jo Fan. The three historical titans were still catching their breath. Their armor was dented, their horses wheezing and caked in blood, but their eyes were ablaze.

“Hahahaha! Did you see that, Advisor Jo?!” Zhang Fei’s laughter boomed as he slapped his own wound-covered chest. “That three-surnamed slave ran off with his tail between his legs! If Second Brother hadn't interfered, I would’ve turned his chest into a shish kebab!”

“Third Brother, don’t be arrogant. Your hands were trembling trying to block his halberd,” Guan Yu chided flatly, though he was secretly rubbing his own numb wrist beneath the sleeve of his green robe.

Liu Bei looked at Jo Fan with immense gratitude. “Master Jo, if it weren’t for your command that pierced through our minds, one of us would surely be a corpse by now. You’ve saved our lives yet again.”

Instead of returning their smiles, Jo Fan let out a long sigh. His pale face, smeared with the remnants of a nosebleed, stared blankly toward the western sky. Not at Hulao Pass, which had just been sealed, but far beyond the fortress.

“You guys think we won, Boss?” Jo Fan’s voice was hoarse.

Zhang Fei’s laughter died. “Of course, we won! That bastard Lu Bu is gone!”

“He didn’t run because he was scared, Master Zhang. He ran because his job was done,” Jo Fan said, raising a still-greasy finger and pointing to the western horizon.

The three brothers turned. Their smiles vanished instantly.

Beyond the mountains, the sky that should have been a clear blue was now a sickening, deep gray. A thick, black cloud billowed into the air like a giant monster rising from hell. Smoke. Not from a campfire, but from a massive city being devoured by flames.

“That’s… in the direction of the capital, Luoyang,” Liu Bei whispered, his face instantly draining of color. “It can’t be… Dong Zhuo…”

“Welcome to the reality of madman politics,” Jo Fan cut in cynically. “Lu Bu wasn't sent here to slaughter the Coalition. He was just here to stall for time. While idiots like Yuan Shao and Yuan Shu were busy watching you guys risk your necks against Lu Bu, their real boss was busy looting the palace, kidnapping the Emperor, and burning Luoyang to the ground.”

“BASTARD!” Zhang Fei roared, swinging his spear at the empty air in frustration.

“His Majesty the Emperor… The people of Luoyang…” Liu Bei’s body trembled violently. His ambition to save the Han Dynasty felt like a joke mocked by that pillar of black smoke in the sky.

Seeing Liu Bei’s shattered reaction, Jo Fan was suddenly hit with an internal panic attack. The scale of this historical devastation was too massive. He was just a college dropout from Jakarta armed with knowledge from Total War and Wikipedia. If he were asked to lead troops to extinguish a massive city fire or manage a collapsed state, his brain would permanently short-circuit.

I need help. I can’t figure all this out on my own, Jo Fan thought, panicking. System! Open the historical figure search feature! There has to be a tracking function, right? I want to find Zhuge Liang!

Jo Fan knew that Zhuge Liang, the Sleeping Dragon, was still just a kid, around nine years old. But if he could find the boy genius now and mentor him, at least he’d have a “backup brain” to handle the internal politics of Shu-Han later. He needed an intern!

A neon blue screen popped up before his eyes.

[Processing Historical Entity Search...]

[Name: Zhuge Liang (Kongming).]

[Status: Deceased.]

Jo Fan’s eyes went wide. His mouth fell open.

“Huh? Deceased?! Are you insane?! He’s a nine-year-old kid, for crying out loud!” Jo Fan yelled involuntarily, making the three generals turn in shock.

[System Notification: To prevent an overpowered paradox due to the presence of two master strategists in one faction, the entity 'Zhuge Liang' (Age 9) has just passed away from a sudden heart attack while playing marbles in his courtyard.]

[Additional Note: Congratulations, Host. You now bear the entire intellectual burden of the Shu-Han faction alone. If you die, this faction will collapse. Enjoy your suffering.]

Jo Fan’s face went from pale to beet red with rage. A vein throbbed on his temple.

“YOU PSYCHOPATHIC SON OF A BITCH SYSTEM!” Jo Fan cursed in his fluent Indonesian. “You killed a little kid with a heart attack while he was playing marbles just so I couldn’t have an assistant?! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Zhang Fei tilted his head, confused. “Who is this ‘Bang Sat’? A new general from Dong Zhuo’s army? I’ll find him and take his head!”

A small line of text flashed in the corner of Jo Fan’s eye:

[Auto-Translate Module Active: Filtering the vocabulary 'Bangsat' into 'immoral, wicked man' for local subjects. Warning: The Host is advised to reduce slang usage as it overworks the System's servers.]

Jo Fan scrubbed a hand over his face, taking a deep breath to calm his own heart, which felt like it was about to explode. He understood now. This System wasn’t a benevolent tool. It was a cruel entity that would force him to squeeze out his own sweat, blood, and sanity for the sake of history. There was no Sleeping Dragon. No miracle of the eastern winds at Chibi.

Everything had to come from his brain. From his hands.

“He’s no one, Master Zhang,” Jo Fan replied wearily, his voice full of resignation. “It’s just the name of an illness… a mental illness I’m suffering from. Let’s head down. The Coalition forces must be in a complete panic by now.”

A few hours later.

The once-arrogant forces of the Eighteen Warlords marched through the now-empty Hulao Pass. There were no more cheers. Only a suffocating silence as they drew closer to the capital, Luoyang.

The scene was like hell spilled onto earth.

Luoyang, the largest and most magnificent city in all of China at the time, had been turned into a sea of fire. Grand buildings had collapsed into charcoal. The daytime sky was blotted out by thick smoke, making it look like night. A ceaseless rain of ash fell, covering the soldiers’ armor like gray snow.

Along the main road, the bodies of civilians were strewn everywhere. Men, women, children—all slaughtered or burned to death as they tried to flee the cruelty of Dong Zhuo’s army, who had looted the city before they left.

Liu Bei dismounted. He walked unsteadily, his eyes vacant as he stared at the charred corpse of a mother clutching her child. The famously compassionate leader fell to his knees. Tears streamed down his ash-stained cheeks.

“My people… The people of the Han Dynasty…” Liu Bei sobbed, his hands clenching the blackened earth. “What sin did they commit to deserve this hell?!”

Guan Yu stood stiffly behind his brother, his jaw clenched. Zhang Fei kicked a burning wooden cart, cursing violently, venting his unbearable rage.

Jo Fan, slumping weakly on his borrowed horse, could only stare at the scene with a churning stomach. He’d seen images of war on the internet, but the smell of burnt human flesh and the sound of the dying groaning in the ruins could never be replicated by a screen. This was the pure brutality of the bronze age.

However, amidst Liu Bei’s mourning and the horror of the burning city, there was another, far more disgusting sight unfolding at the ruins of the Imperial Palace.

The main contingent of warlords, led by Yuan Shao and Yuan Shu, had arrived first. Instead of ordering their troops to put out the fires or search for survivors, they had dispatched thousands of soldiers to dig through the palace rubble.

“Search the Jianzhang Pavilion area!” Yuan Shao shouted from his horse, his eyes gleaming with greed, completely ignoring the flames raging around him. “The Emperor may have been taken, but the imperial treasures must have been left behind! Whoever finds the Imperial Jade Seal, I will make them a grand general!”

“Hey! This eastern side belongs to the Yuan family forces from Nanyang!” Yuan Shu yelled, just as greedily, ordering his troops to push Yuan Shao’s men aside. “Don’t you dare touch the golden goblets over there!”

The nobles who claimed to have gathered in the name of justice were now fighting over scrap gold and jewelry atop the corpses of their own people. They were acting like vultures tearing at a carcass.

“Truly disgusting,” a deep, familiar voice hissed.

Jo Fan turned his head. Cao Cao, mounted on his jet-black horse, had stopped not far from Liu Bei and Jo Fan. His maroon robe was now covered in a layer of gray ash.

There was no cunning smile on Cao Cao’s face now. His eyes, which usually radiated ambition, were now burning with pure rage and hatred. His jaw twitched furiously as he watched the behavior of the Coalition warlords.

“My lord,” General Xiahou Dun, who had lost an eye, approached Cao Cao. “Our forces are ready to pursue Dong Zhuo toward Chang'an. If we leave now, we can intercept their rearguard.”

Cao Cao didn’t answer right away. He stared at Yuan Shao, who was gleefully holding up a golden ornament he’d just dug out of the ruins.

“Do you see that, Liu Bei? Jo Fan?” Cao Cao spoke without turning, his voice cold and piercing. “This is the true face of the heroes you championed day and night. They don’t care about the Emperor. They don’t care about the people burning. They are nothing but starving dogs fighting over the leftover bones from Dong Zhuo’s plate.”

Liu Bei hung his head, unable to argue as the truth was laid bare before his eyes.

Jo Fan took a deep breath, swallowing the bitter taste in his throat. “So… what’s your plan, Lord Cao? Join the fight for the bones, or become the hunter?”

Cao Cao wheeled his horse around sharply, drawing his trusted sword and pointing it at the ash-filled air.

“I, Cao Mengde, will not let history record me standing in the same line as these cowards!” Cao Cao declared, his voice trembling with fury. He looked at his own troops. “Wei army! Leave these ruins! We will pursue Dong Zhuo alone!”

Cao Cao’s horse neighed, then shot forward through the rain of ash, followed by thousands of his most loyal elite cavalry.

Jo Fan watched the retreating back of the maroon robe with mixed feelings. The system’s radar in his eyes began to flash yellow, signaling that a major turning point of fate was happening.

“Boss,” Jo Fan called out softly to the still-kneeling Liu Bei. “This Coalition died today. Now… it’s your turn to choose. Do we want to keep being civilized scavengers here, or do we want to chase that man in the red robe into a death trap?”