Even two months later, the people of Chang'an still spoke of the day of the captive presentation with shining eyes and animated gestures.
The Son of Heaven hosted a founding banquet; the people rejoiced as if drunk on victory.
Captives were offered at the Ancestral Temple, old humiliations washed away, borders pushed outward—unbroken triumph.
Li Jing and Li Shiji had escorted Illig Qaghan back to Chang'an almost without pause, riding day and night. As a result, detailed reports of the Western Turkic collapse streamed into the capital from the northeast in a steady flow.
The common folk marveled at Li Jing's daring night assault with cavalry, and admired Li Shiji's calm command in the heat of battle. Naturally, a debate followed—who was stronger, who deserved greater credit?
Some argued Li Jing's capture of Illig was nothing more than luck.
Others countered that the Turks Li Shiji faced were already terrified by Li Jing, and his victories were merely "picked up."
Neither of the men involved cared much. Or rather, both were perfectly satisfied.
Li Jing had seized Illig Qaghan—undisputed first merit.
Li Shiji had taken fifty thousand captives, along with countless herds of cattle and horses—hardly something to dismiss.
Yet Li Shiji felt uneasy.
After the captive presentation, the emperor had not ordered him back to Bingzhou to hold the frontier. Instead, he was kept in Chang'an, with no clear assignment.
That uncertainty led his thoughts down dangerous paths.
He shook his head sharply and cleared his mind. Some names were better left unspoken. Letting one slip in front of the emperor would mean praying His Majesty was in a forgiving mood.
Over these two months in Chang'an, Li Shiji found it increasingly hard to read the emperor's intentions.
Li Shimin seemed to have woken swiftly from the intoxication of victory. He summoned Li Shiji frequently to the Taiji Hall, asking his views on the Western Regions, the Southern Seas, and even Goguryeo.
More puzzling still, the emperor personally instructed him to visit Pei Qing, Director of the Palace Library.
Li Shiji had been baffled at first—but Pei Qing proved genuinely capable, deeply knowledgeable about the northeast, and often spoke at length about Wa, the island nation across the sea.
Later, Li Shiji learned that Pei Qing himself had been summoned by imperial order to discuss Wa, and promoted soon after.
Only then did Li Shiji begin to glimpse the emperor's intent.
Does His Majesty mean to destroy Goguryeo, and complete the unfinished work of earlier dynasties?
That day, the summons came not to the Taiji Hall, but to the Ganlu Hall.
Li Shiji immediately sensed something different.
After entering, he realized things were even further from expectation.
Du Ruhui. Fang Xuanling. Zhangsun Wuji. Yuchi Jingde. Li Jing. Even Wei Zheng, whom he sometimes saw in court.
And one unfamiliar official—judging by his attire, likely a painter.
"Maogong, you're here!"
Li Shimin greeted him warmly, personally pulling him over and seating him on a chair.
Li Shiji was flustered by the favor. He then noticed the ministers standing in a circle, engaged in low but intense argument.
"They're debating whether I should delay establishing the Martial Temple," Li Shimin said casually.
"The Martial Temple?" Li Shiji asked, confused.
Du Ruhui explained, "His Majesty intends to establish a Temple of King Wu, to honor the great generals of past ages. Before General Yaoshi departed, His Majesty said that whoever destroyed Illig Qaghan would be first welcomed into the temple."
Li Shiji's heart ignited instantly.
He didn't even need further explanation before springing to his feet.
"Your Majesty, the empire has only just emerged from great war. Large construction should indeed be delayed! Let this minister first pacify Goguryeo, bind its king, and then open the Martial Temple—it will not be too late!"
"The abacus in his head rattled away, the beads all but smacking Li Jing in the face."
The old general glared at him.
Zhangsun Wuji fanned the flames cheerfully. "Your Majesty, I've already reserved India—everyone mustn't forget!"
Even Yuchi Jingde leaned over the map. Remembering that Illig had once planned to flee toward Gaochang, he added, "Your Majesty, Gaochang will fall sooner or later anyway. Why not—"
Li Shiji shot back, "Duke of Wu, since Gaochang intended to shelter Illig Qaghan, this cleanup should naturally fall to me!"
The hall dissolved into chaos.
"Enough," Li Shimin said, waving his hand.
Silence fell.
"The Martial Temple is already half-built. How could it be stopped?"
"But how could living men enter a temple?"
Li Jing panicked. Had His Majesty gone back on his word? If not for this promise of eternal renown, would he have risked everything in those night assaults and mountain battles?
Li Shimin gestured calmly. "Peace, General."
"Outside the temple, a Stele of Flourishing Tang Martial Merit will be erected. Only the achievements of Zhenguan-era generals will be engraved."
He spoke vaguely—but everyone understood instantly.
Their deeds, carved in stone. Their names filling vast space on the stele. Their descendants forever proud.
Li Jing and Li Shiji exchanged a glance, both visibly tempted.
Only then did Li Shiji notice the enormous map beside them, and several chairs facing a blank wall.
Since no one else asked, he held his tongue.
Li Jing snorted. "Maogong, don't be too startled when you see the auspicious sign."
Li Shiji scoffed inwardly. What could possibly shock me?
Yet as Li Shimin raised his brush toward the wall, Li Shiji grew curious. Is His Majesty about to write calligraphy? I'd better think of compliments—
The light screen unfolded.
Li Shiji leapt to his feet.
"Your Majesty's brush truly sweeps like a thousand troops—wait. What is this thing?"
The others burst into laughter.
Far away in Chengdu, the provincial hall was already full.
Liu Bei. Kongming. Pang Tong. Mi Zhu. Zhang Song. Liu Ba. Zhang Fei. Wei Yan.
Wei Yan had come from Jingzhou with troops; Guan Ping had already hurried on to Hanzhong. Zhang Fei and Pang Tong planned to return together at month's end.
Zhang Fei was in the middle of loudly recounting the Hanzhong campaign when the light screen opened quietly, and a voice interrupted his boasting.
[Light Screen]
["Hello everyone! Your favorite under-educated content creator is back with another weekly update!
Today's topic: Great Clans.
When we talk about the most prominent surnames of the early Three Kingdoms era, the Yuan brothers of Runan—who joined forces beneath Hulao Pass to oppose Dong Zhuo—are impossible to avoid.
Four generations, three Grand Ministers.
One family, two regional lords.
So how did these great clans rise?
How did they reach their peak?
And how were they ultimately overturned—table flipped and all—until they vanished entirely?
And most importantly:
Were great clans the lifeblood of empire…
or its parasites?"]
Comments flooded in like a torrent.
[Server Chat Log]
[CosmicKeyboardImmortal]: Holy crap, Grandpa, the creator you follow updated—quick, I'll help you sit up to watch!
[ArmchairGrandStrategist]: If we're talking about this, shouldn't my Cosmic General get a mention?
[HistorianByVibes]: 'The swallows once before Wang and Xie's halls now fly into common homes.'
I think great clans had their uses, but honestly? Good riddance.
[DaoOfShitposting]: If they only monopolized wealth, that'd be one thing.
They monopolized the whole cake—cutting it, handing it out, even defining what counted as cake.
No wonder Huang Chao flipped the table.
[LateNightKeyboardWarrior]: Late Tang chaos was pure class conflict.
Huang Chao, Zhu Wen, Li Zhen, Liu Can—who didn't hate great clans?
Huang Chao just moved first.
[HeavenlyBanHammer]: 'The Tang factional purges end today; even the "pure" have sunk into the muck.'
Zhu Wen liked this.
[KeyboardDaoAncestor]: Huang Chao proved with physics that scholars aren't born noble.
Zhuge Liang: Hold Jing and Yi, take Hanzhong—the realm is within reach.
Li Shimin: I destroyed the Turks; the barbarians want to call me Heavenly Khagan!
In Chang'an, Li Shimin proudly wrote his own line onto the glowing wall—then his good mood shattered.
"Tang factional purges…"
What made a true great clan?
Wealth. Military power. Prestige.
That was why the Li family, rising from Li Hu, had gone to such lengths to fabricate descent from Li Gao of the Western Liang.
Once, Li Shimin had taken pride in being of the Longxi Li clan.
Today, he saw a word his ministers would never dare write in a memorial.
Hatred.
Those who overthrew the late Tang had hated the great clans—openly, violently.
Thus came "the bones of nobles trampled along the imperial avenue."
Was it the same cry as Chen Sheng and Wu Guang—are kings and ministers born superior?
They rebelled against a tyrannical Qin.
But the flourishing Tang… would it one day become a tyrannical Tang?
Wei Zheng said nothing, eyes fixed on the screen.
"The light screen has only begun," Zhangsun Wuji said carefully. "Why fear? Perhaps later generations offer remedies."
Li Shimin remained silent.
If the remedy truly resembled Huang Chao's methods—what then?
[Light Screen]
["Before the Han, aristocratic history was simple—Qin destroyed the Six States.
The First Emperor conquered one by one, crushing the old nobility into dust.
Qin fell too quickly to form a stable noble system, and power was tightly held.
Thus when Liu Bang unified the realm, early Han society burst with vitality.
This is clear in the Records of the Grand Historian.
In the fifth year of Gaozu, rituals were simplified—because when Liu Bang drank with his generals, the scene was unbearable.
Some claimed the empire couldn't be won without them.
Some fought over merit.
Some hacked pillars with swords.
So ritual existed for one reason: to make them look human.
And those men never became four-generations-three-ministers clans.
Xiao He was a clerk.
Cao Shen a prison official.
Fan Kuai butchered dogs.
Guan Ying sold cloth.
That openness created opportunity.
Thus emerged the first form of great clans:
The Powerful Houses."]