Reborn Liu Bei: I'll lead this Three Kingdoms to victory!

On the 25th day of the third month of the seventh year of Jian'an, in Xiapi.

The atmosphere in the sluggish, unguarded room was even more somber than usual.

Sima Yi sat at his desk, a thick stack of rosters spread out before him. These were thirty people recently selected from various regions—thirty individuals willing to infiltrate Xuchang and become undercover agents.

Thirty people, from different places, with different identities and different experiences.

There were merchants, scholars, craftsmen, deserters, and vagrants.

But they had one thing in common: they all hated Cao Cao.

Pang Tong stood in front of the map, took a swig of wine, and looked at the thirty names.

"Zhongda, is everyone here?" Sima Yi nodded.

"All of them are here." His voice was calm. "Thirty, not one more, not one less."

Pang Tong walked to the table, picked up the register, and flipped through it page by page.

He stopped when he turned to the last page.

"This person—" he pointed to the last name, "Are you sure?"

That name is: Sima Lang.

Sima Yi's older brother.

"Confirmed." Sima Yi's voice remained calm, but his grip on the roster tightened slightly.

Pang Tong looked at him.

"Zhongda, your brother has stayed in Xudu for so many years, always acting peacefully. Letting him be a spy... what if he gets exposed..."

"He won't be exposed," Sima Yi interrupted him, "because no one will suspect him."

Pang Tong remained silent.

Sima Lang, the eldest son of Sima Fang and the elder brother of Sima Yi, held a minor official position in Xuchang. He never caused trouble, never took sides, and was the kind of person who made people completely trust him.

This kind of person is best suited to be a spy. But he is also the most dangerous. Because once exposed, it's not just him who dies, but the entire Sima family.

"Zhongda," Pang Tong finally spoke, "is your brother willing?"

Sima Yi was silent for a moment. "He's willing," he said. "He replied to me. Only four words—"

He paused. "Don't worry, brother, I'm here."

Pang Tong looked at the eighteen-year-old boy.

His face was expressionless, but his eyes shone brightly under the light.

"Zhongda," Pang Tong patted him on the shoulder, "you have a good older brother."

Sima Yi remained silent.

He simply lowered his head and continued organizing the roster.

At noon, in the Sima Mansion, east of Xuchang City.

Sima Fang sat in his study with a letter spread out in front of him.

The letter was short, containing only one line: "Father, I am well. I am in Liaodong, and everything is as usual. Please take care of all matters at home. Also, I have made arrangements for my elder brother, so please do not worry about him."

Sima Fang stared at the letter for a long time.

His second son, Sima Yi.

That quiet and deep-thinking child is now doing something earth-shattering in Liaodong, under Liu Bei's command.

He wrote to him, never saying what he was doing. He just let him know he was safe, just asked how he was doing, just said "everything is as usual".

But Sima Fang knew how much danger lurked behind those four words, "everything is as usual."

There was a knock on the door.

"Father," Sima Lang's voice came from outside the door.

Sima Fang folded the letter and put it in his sleeve.

"Come in."

Sima Lang pushed open the door and knelt down in front of his father.

"Father, I have something to tell you."

Sima Fang looked at him. This eldest son, in his early thirties, had a handsome face and a composed demeanor. He had always been the one who gave people the most peace of mind.

"Speak," Sima Lang said, raising his head with a calm gaze.

"My son is leaving Xudu for a while."

Sima Fang's hand paused slightly. "Where to?"

Sima Lang didn't answer. He simply looked at his father, a complex emotion in his eyes. Sima Fang remained silent for a long time. Then he spoke, his voice very soft: "Did your second brother send you?"

Sima Lang nodded. "Yes."

Sima Fang closed his eyes. After a long while, he opened them and looked at his eldest son. "Go." His voice was a little hoarse, "but remember—" Sima Lang looked up.

"Come back alive."

Sima Lang kowtowed deeply. "Your son will remember."

At Shenshi (3-5 PM), outside the city of Xiapi.

Thirty people, thirty horses, all ready to go.

They were dressed in all sorts of clothes and carried all sorts of goods, looking just like an ordinary caravan.

No one knew that this "caravan" harbored thirty hearts. Thirty hearts set on going to Xuchang, to become spies. Sima Yi stood at the front of the group, looking at each one one by one.

The one who looks like a merchant, who can smile and talk, is best suited for gathering information in taverns and teahouses.

The one who looks like a scholar is refined and quiet, making him the perfect candidate to sneak into the Imperial Academy and befriend those frustrated scholars.

The craftsman-like one, skillful and taciturn, is perfect for infiltrating the military workshop to gather information on weapon manufacturing.

And that deserter-looking guy, rugged and forthright, is perfect for blending into the streets and befriending those old soldiers who are dissatisfied with Cao Cao.

Everyone has a place to go. Everyone has something to do.

"Zhongda," Pang Tong walked to his side, "has everything been arranged?"

Sima Yi nodded. "Alright."

Pang Tong looked at the thirty men and took a swig of wine. "Thirty men, thirty lives," he said softly. "I hope they all come back alive."

Sima Yi remained silent. He simply walked to the front of the group, bowed deeply to the ground before the thirty men, and they all returned the bow. No one spoke. But in that instant, something indescribable seemed to flow in the air.

It was trust. It was entrustment. It was a tacit understanding of sharing life and death. "Let's go." Sima Yi's voice was very soft.

Thirty horses and thirty people slowly headed south.

Sima Yi stood there, watching the troop gradually disappear at the end of the official road.

After a long while, he turned around and walked back into the city.

No one saw that his eyes were slightly red.

At 5 PM, in Xuchang.

Zhao Yan sat in a corner of the teahouse, a cup of tea in front of him, but he didn't drink a drop.

He was waiting for someone. After waiting for half an hour, the person finally arrived.

A middle-aged man who looked like a businessman, carrying a box, looked around at the entrance of the teahouse for a moment, and then walked straight up to Zhao Yan.

"Sir, are you looking to buy tea?"

Zhao Yan looked up. "I'm not buying tea. I'm buying information."

The businessman smiled. It was a smile so ordinary it couldn't be more so. But what he said made Zhao Yan's heart skip a beat.

"People are coming from the north," the merchant said in a very low voice. "Thirty of them. They're entering the city one after another."

Zhao Yan's hand paused slightly. Thirty. Thirty newcomers. Thirty new seeds.

"When will you arrive?"

"Starting today, people will gradually enter the city," the merchant said. "Some are merchants, some are scholars, some are craftsmen... they won't attract attention."

Zhao Yan remained silent for a moment. "The secret code?"

The merchant took a slip of paper from his sleeve and pushed it in front of Zhao Yan.

Zhao Yan glanced at it, memorized it, then stuffed the note into his mouth, chewed it, and swallowed it.

The businessman stood up and picked up the cargo box. "Take care, Mr. Zhao."

He left. Zhao Yan sat alone in the teahouse, gazing at the darkening sky outside the window.

Thirty new recruits. The city of Xuchang is being hollowed out bit by bit. And Cao Cao knows nothing about it.

At the hour of Xu (7-9 PM), at the Governor's Office of Xiapi.

I stood before the map, looking at the location of Xuchang.

On the table lay a report sent by Sima Yi: "Thirty men have set off and are expected to arrive in Xuchang within ten days."

I put down the report and remained silent for a long time. "My lord," Pang Tong's voice came from behind me.

I didn't turn around. "Shiyuan, tell me, out of these thirty people, how many will come back alive?"

Pang Tong walked over to me and took a swig of wine. "I don't know," he said, "but no matter how many survive, it was all worth it."

I turned to look at him. "Was it worth it?"

"Yes." Pang Tong's gaze was profound. "My lord, do you know who these thirty people are?"

I didn't speak. He finished for me: "They are seeds. Seeds planted in Xudu. They may seem insignificant now, but one day they will take root, sprout, and grow into a forest."

I remained silent. Seeds. Thirty seeds. Thirty lives. "Shiyuan."

"exist."

"I want them all to live."

Pang Tong looked at me. "My lord, this is impossible."

I know. But what I said was still the same: "I want them all to live."

At 9 PM (Hai Shi), at the medical school.

Fu Shou was practicing sewing under the lamp.

Today it's a rabbit, tomorrow a chicken, and the day after tomorrow it might be an injured horse.

Hua Tuo said that one must sew enough for animals before sewing for humans.

She has already sewed thirty-seven rabbits, twelve chickens, and three dogs.

She remembered every single one. She dared not be careless with every stitch.

"Fu Shou." Hua Tuo's voice came from the doorway.

Fu Shou looked up. "Sir?"

Hua Tuo walked in and sat down opposite her.

"You did a good job sewing today," he said. "Your hands were steady, your mind was focused, and your stitches were even."

Fu Shou's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Really." Hua Tuo nodded. "Starting tomorrow, you can begin sewing for people."

Fu Shou was stunned. Sewing for someone? So quickly?

"Sir, I..."

"Are you ready?" Hua Tuo interrupted her. "Sewing a person and sewing a rabbit are no different. They are both flesh and skin, both are wounds, and both need to be healed."

He stood up, walked to the door, and suddenly stopped. "Fu Shou."

"exist."

"Tomorrow we have a patient with a deep cut on his leg. You'll stitch him up."

Fu Shou's heart was pounding.

But she took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, sir."

Hua Tuo is gone.

Fu Shou sat alone under the lamp, looking at her small hands.

Eight years old. At eight, she was already being stitched up. She suddenly thought of her father. When he died in the Xuchang massacre, he also had wounds. Back then, if someone could stitch him up… She didn't continue thinking. She just gripped the needle tightly in her hand.

It was dawn. The sky was beginning to lighten. Sima Yi stood atop the city wall, having not slept all night. Thirty men had already set off, including his brother. He didn't know if his brother would return alive. But he knew it was his brother's own choice. Just as his father had chosen to stay in Xuchang, just as he had chosen to come to Liaodong. Everyone has their own path.