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[The Book of Jin and the Records of the Three Kingdoms were, historically speaking, two extremes.
Chen Shou wrote the Records of the Three Kingdoms like a man paying for ink out of his own pocket. Every word was weighed. Anything that might offend whoever happened to be in power at the time was quietly… not written at all.
The Book of Jin, on the other hand, took a very different approach.
Its guiding principle could be summed up as: if it fits, put it in; if it doesn't fit, squeeze harder. Quantity over quality. Confidence over physics. An entire historical work steeped in what could only be described as unlicensed magic.
For example, the biography of Sima Yan includes the line: "He ordered all commanderies to recommend strong men capable of lifting over 1,500 jin."
One thousand five hundred jin.
That's about 334 kilograms.
For reference, the current Olympic weightlifting record is 264.
Apparently, the Jin dynasty ran its recruitment exams at Mount Olympus.
Another example: Liu Yao, described as "mighty beyond measure; with iron one inch thick, he shot through it with an arrow."
Three centimeters of iron. One arrow.
At this point, Lu Bu would've read this and quietly closed the book out of professional shame.
Naturally, this human Gundam later lost a battle—not due to strategy, terrain, or enemy action—but because he drank too much, fell off his horse, and was captured.
There's also Gou Xi, who supposedly "recruited a thousand-li ox. When sending letters, they departed at dawn and returned by dusk."
A thousand-li horse, fine. A thousand-li ox? That's no longer exaggeration—that's creative writing.
Murong Chui, while raising troops in Guanzhong, was said to have gathered "over two hundred thousand men."
At the time, Guanzhong had already been beaten hollow by years of war. Even if you counted every civilian, chicken, and household dog, you'd still struggle to reach that number.
And then there was the divine Sima Yi himself:
"In the fourth year… he campaigned against Shu with Cao Zhen. The Emperor personally cut through mountains from Xicheng to open a road… reaching Quren."
From Hanzhong, straight to what is essentially eastern Chongqing.
At that point, there was only one reasonable explanation.
Moses could part seas.
And Sima Yi could part mountains.
Then there's Ma Long's biography: "Magnet stones were piled along the roads. The enemy wore iron armor and could not advance. Ma Long's soldiers wore rhinoceros hide armor and passed unimpeded."
The enemy was pinned in place by magnetism.
Ma Long showed up wearing anti-magnetic DLC and wiped them out.
In short, the Book of Jin possessed a very special kind of beauty—
the beauty of failing physics with absolute confidence.]
"So this… divine Sima Yi," Zhuge Liang murmured.
His face felt stiff.
This was his future opponent?
Zhang Fei was still staring at the map, frowning, trying to locate Quren. Guan Yu had already shaken his head.
"If he could march like this," Guan Yu said calmly, "why not simply ride straight into Chengdu and seize A Dou?"
Guan Yu knew the terrain well. Quren was a city they had taken just last month. Between it and Hanzhong lay nothing but endless mountains.
He added, casually, "If one can truly march from Quren to Hanzhong so freely, then tomorrow I will personally lead an elite force and do exactly that."
Everyone took it as a joke.
Liu Bei found himself struggling not to laugh.
"So the historians of the so-called greatest dynasty… wrote this?"
He tried to find a polite adjective. Failed. In the end, he just smiled and shook his head.
Far away, the man known as that "greatest emperor" was not amused in the slightest.
Earlier, he had watched Ma Su mock others for knowing nothing of warfare.
Now, in the span of a single screen scroll, he was being mocked for knowing nothing of history.
Li Shimin didn't look at Fang Xuanling. He said calmly, "Since future generations must read these histories, then perhaps we should compile them with more care—to properly display the civil governance of the Great Tang."
Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui nodded.
Only then did Li Shimin feel somewhat satisfied.
After all, a millennium emperor had standards to maintain.
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[But the Book of Jin was not done yet.
Besides physics-defying feats, it also featured a universal spell.
Its name: Filial Piety, Activated by Tears.
Sheng Yan's mother went blind due to illness.
Sheng Yan wept loudly.
Her eyesight returned.
Wang Pou mourned his deceased mother beside a cypress tree.
He cried so hard that the tree itself died.
Yan Han was raised by his sister-in-law.
She went blind from illness.
Yan Han cried every day.
One day, a blue bird descended, transformed into a man, delivered medicine, and cured her.
Liu Yin's mother wanted shepherd's purse in winter.
He couldn't find any.
He cried.
His tears watered the ground.
The plant grew on the spot—and kept growing no matter how much was picked.
Wang Yan's mother wanted fish in winter.
He couldn't find any.
He cried.
A fish leapt onto the shore.
The fish never ran out.
As for the rest—
consult the Book of Jin, Treatise on Portents.
Talking cow heads.
Stone dogs that bite people.
A slab of meat the size of three basketball courts falling from the sky.
Raining stones.
Stones fighting each other and bleeding.
Millstones chasing each other across farmland.
Honestly, if you want supernatural fiction, just read this.
It's far more entertaining than In Search of the Supernatural.
Ironically, the author of In Search of the Supernatural, Gan Bao, only began writing after witnessing people rise from the dead.
Which raised a very simple question:
Who still remembers that the Book of Jin was supposed to be a history book?]
Du Ruhui felt, for the first time, that none of this needed to be recorded.
Li Shimin turned to Fang Xuanling again, smiling gently. "These strange tales—extract them and compile them into a separate volume."
Fang Xuanling glanced helplessly at the screen. He distinctly remembered that the glowing screen itself was said to be recorded in In Search of the Supernatural.
But orders were orders. He nodded.
Li Jing frowned. "If such miracles truly worked, why would soldiers need to die on the battlefield?"
"Monstrous strength and chaotic spirits must be rejected," he said firmly. "They must not enter the official histories, lest future generations laugh at us."
Li Shimin agreed.
As for the glowing screen? That was different. At the very least, it had never demanded sacrifices.
In Gong'an County's side hall, the mood was much lighter.
After all, this had nothing to do with them. And while the Han ruled through filial piety, no one present was an idiot.
Zhang Fei smacked his lips regretfully. "If this really worked, why would we need military rations?"
An endless basket of vegetables.
A fish that never ran out.
Get a few more of those, and ten thousand troops could eat forever.
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[As one of the twenty-four official histories, the Book of Jin—despite its flaws—did have its advantages.
The Tang did not inherit legitimacy from Jin. Therefore, when compiling Jin's history, they adopted a rare stance:
No praise. No slander.
You say Sima Yi defeated Zhuge Liang and withdrew? Fine, recorded.
Someone else says Zhuge Liang died and Sima Yi fled? Also recorded.
"What about taboo names?"
Tang officials responded with a collective snort.
Compared to our Great Tang's Li Erfeng, who do you think you are?
In short, Tang historians treated the task like modern office workers.
Pay determines effort.
Meet the quota.
Clock out.
As for why Fang Xuanling, the supervisor, seemed so indifferent?
Some claimed it was because his close friend Du Ruhui had died, leaving him disillusioned.
Nonsense.
Du Ruhui died of sudden illness in the fourth year of Zhenguan.
The Book of Jin officially began compilation in the twentieth year of Zhenguan.
By then, Du Ruhui's son had already been executed for treason—for three years.
A more convincing explanation was this:
It had something to do with Li Erfeng.]
The news was so shocking that Li Shimin temporarily ignored the screen's refusal to use his proper name.
Du Ruhui stood frozen.
Zhenguan Year Two… no, it was already the second day of the New Year.
Zhenguan Year Three.
Next year… his death?
His expression twisted into something between a laugh and a cry. "Everyone… my son plotted rebellion. His crime deserves death."
Li Shimin supported him, patting his back. "Keming, your health comes first."
"Du He is innocent," Li Shimin said firmly.
Fifteen years was a long time. Too many things could change.
"Now that we know, we take this as warning. It will not happen again."
Li Shimin was clear-headed. The Martial Temple didn't even exist yet in these years.
But one thing was certain.
The mastermind of the An Lushan Rebellion must die.
And another thing—
Someone dared to rebel while Li Er… Lang was still alive?
The wording was clear. Du Ruhui's son was a participant, not the mastermind.
Li Shimin felt a flicker of excitement.
External enemies. Internal rebellion.
And yet history still called him a millennium emperor?
As expected of me.
But the matter at hand was Du Ruhui's health.
For once, Li Shimin felt genuinely unsettled.
Why did it have to be Du Ruhui—his most trusted pillar?
He glanced at the silent, obedient Changsun Wuji and took a deep breath.
"After today," Li Shimin said, "Keming must rest properly. Do not exhaust yourself like Zhuge Wuhou."
Zhuge Liang sneezed.
He smiled reassuringly at Huang Yueying. "The Tang's way of compiling history is… interesting."
Privately, he found it strange that even such an emperor could face rebellion.
Seventeen years into rule…
His thoughts drifted to Emperor Wu.
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[The theory linking the Book of Jin's sloppiness to Li Erfeng went like this:
Li Erfeng once said, "Use history as a mirror, and you may know rise and fall."
Thus, the Book of Jin was meant as a governance reference for the crown prince.
Compilation began in the twentieth year of Zhenguan.
In the twenty-second year, Li Erfeng's health declined, and he wrote Imperial Models to instruct the heir.
So the Book of Jin being rough was acceptable.
It was urgent.
Readable was good enough.
In the twenty-third year, Li Erfeng's illness worsened.
He died at Cuiwei Palace.
As for the cause of death?
Old Tang History said prolonged illness and alchemical pills—he ate himself into the grave.
Modern medical analysis suggested heart failure combined with cerebral hemorrhage, based on records noting difficulty climbing stairs and weak cardiopulmonary function.
Dying at fifty-one was undoubtedly early.
The most likely cause mirrored that of the Chancellor:
Overworked youth, depleted foundation.
Age turned small illnesses into fatal ones.
Oh—and there was also the most outrageous theory.
That during the nineteenth year's campaign against Goguryeo, he was struck by a poisoned arrow.
This theory was deeply believed by the Koreans.
It eventually evolved into an even bolder claim:
Li Erfeng was shot in the eye and became a one-eyed dragon.]
The Sweet Dew Hall fell into deathly silence.
Changsun Wuji was the first to throw himself at Li Shimin's feet, wailing, "For the sake of the Great Tang, Your Majesty must preserve your health!"
Li Shimin was unexpectedly calm.
"I have long suffered from damp illness," he said evenly. "And I campaigned extensively in my youth. My body bears many losses."
"If so," he continued, "then this year I shall simply build pavilions and recuperate…"
His composure lasted right up until the screen displayed an image.
A foreigner in strange clothing drew a bow.
An arrow flew.
It buried itself directly into the eye socket of a man in yellow robes.
The screen was filled with dizzying foreign script, all circles and lines.
As if afraid someone might misunderstand, a label appeared beside the victim:
Tang Emperor Li Shimin.
"Foreign mongrel descendants! Shameless dogs!"
"You spineless rats, playing such self-deceiving tricks!"
"Bandit nations and slave scum—I will annihilate your state and erase your history!"
Li Shimin finally snapped, kicking Changsun Wuji away as he roared in fury.
Changsun Wuji: ???