Zhuge Liang found this stage of the aristocratic clans' transformation utterly fascinating. He immediately picked up his brush and jotted down several key terms in his personal notebook.
After thinking for a moment, he added another line beneath them:
"Exploit their momentum—lure them with profit."
Pang Tong leaned over to see what Zhuge Liang had written. After a brief pause, he shook his head and tapped that line with a finger.
"First, they must be made to fear the lord's blade—three feet of cold steel. Only then can such methods be used effectively."
Zhuge Liang nodded in agreement.
"Judging by the trend, it was after Wei and Jin that things shifted. By the time of Sui and Tang, they were already suppressing the private retainers of the powerful clans. Only by doing so could the foundation of the aristocracy be severed."
In Zhuge Liang's view, the reason great clans had risen since Emperor Wu's time—and survived three to five centuries of chaos—lay in their rural power: annexed land, local militias, retainers, and private followers.
Once they went from "two households" to "one household," their fate was already sealed.
Pang Tong offered his own speculation.
"Though Tang lacked the hindsight to learn from Han's past, the chaos less than a century before must have served as a warning."
"That means the Sui likely already took steps to restrain the great clans."
The light screen was vague, so they could only infer. But Pang Tong found one detail telling—Yang Jian was called an outlier.
Wasn't that the clearest sign of a capable ruler?
If he had been like his two sons, the Sui probably wouldn't have lasted even two generations.
Zhuge Liang agreed, then his gaze settled on three words: volunteer military system.
This, of course, he understood—recruiting those without livelihoods into military service.
Still, curiosity stirred.
"I wonder what the military system of a powerful Tang was truly like."
Before any battle was fought, calculations had to be made.
Logistics, troop quality, the competence of generals—all of these were part of strategic planning.
For Tang to achieve such military brilliance after prolonged chaos, it must have possessed a distinctive system.
"I truly wish I could see it with my own eyes," Zhuge Liang sighed.
"Same," Zhang Fei muttered. "I also want to see just how much evil those clans committed to give birth to someone like Huang Chao."
Zhuge Liang opened his mouth—then closed it again, choosing silence.
"Thrown into the same pot…"
The ministers of the Zhenguan court murmured the phrase, tasting the chilling hatred hidden within.
Wei Zheng, in particular, felt cold sweat bead down his back.
He revered Confucianism and believed in the kingly way. He never spared words when remonstrating with the emperor and had always believed himself blameless before ruler and people alike.
Yet only now did he realize—
In the eyes of the oppressed commoners, Wei Zheng might not look all that different from corrupt officials.
Silence filled the Ganlu Hall. Everyone could already guess what was coming next.
[Lightscreen]
["When autumn comes, on the eighth day of the ninth month,
When my flower blooms, all other flowers die.
Its fragrance surges to the heavens, flooding Chang'an—
The whole city clad in golden armor."
This poem was well known. Its title was "Ode to Chrysanthemums After Failing the Examination."
"Failing the examination" meant exactly that—being rejected.
When Huang Chao was young, he traveled to Chang'an, hoping to mingle with the late-Tang elite and enter officialdom through the examinations. After failing, his resentment gave birth to this poem.
Huang Chao came from a family of private salt traders. Frankly speaking, that status meant nothing in Jingzhao Prefecture. The aristocratic clans around Chang'an praised one another, married among themselves, and formed an airtight circle.
It was an invisible wall.
Before the An Lushan Rebellion, it was like transparent reinforced glass. By the late Tang, it had become titanium-alloy plating.
Huang Chao came hoping to assimilate—and was ruthlessly rebuffed.
So before leaving, he wrote a poem to deliver a threat:
I will return.
The nobles of Chang'an laughed it off.
They never imagined that within ten years, Huang Chao would keep his word—and it would be his turn to treat the entire court as a joke.
Huang Chao's fury was inseparable from the pitch-black state of officialdom at the time. A few examples made that clear.
During Emperor Wuzong's reign, a locust plague swept from east to west, leaving barren land in its wake. The Prefect of Jingzhao, Yang Zhizhi, memorialized:
"Locusts entered the capital region, but did not eat the crops. They clutched thorns and died of their own accord."
Any sane person reading that would spit in disgust.
Yet the chancellors all congratulated him.
During Emperor Xuanzong's reign, Cui Rao entered office through the examinations and later became the Observer of Shaanxi. When drought struck and the people cried out, Cui Rao pointed at the trees in his courtyard.
"The leaves are still here. How can there be drought?"
He then had the people beaten out.
Later, after falling out with a military governor and being expelled, Cui Rao found himself thirsty during another drought and begged water from the common folk.
The people were kind-hearted—they gave him urine to drink.
Ancient diabetes was a disease of the wealthy. Cui Rao likely never tasted sweetness.
Emperor Yizong's era was even more absurd.
When Qiu Fu's rebellion plunged the southeast into chaos, Yizong summoned Wang Shi for advice.
"Give me troops," Wang Shi said. "I will defeat the rebels."
The eunuchs objected—mobilizing troops cost too much money.
Wang Shi hurriedly delivered a long explanation of why swift suppression was vital, finally persuading Yizong.
But persuasion was meaningless.
Yizong turned to the eunuchs and said, "It might be better to give Wang Shi troops."
Only then did they agree.
Yizong was followed by Emperor Xizong—the most "multitalented" emperor of the Tang.
Horse racing, archery, sword dancing, gambling on geese, listening to music, cuju, cockfighting, hunting—he mastered them all.
He was especially skilled at polo.
Once, he bragged to an actor named Shi Yezhu:
"If the imperial examinations had a polo division, I would surely take first place!"
Shi Yezhu replied coolly:
"If Yao and Shun were the examiners, Your Majesty would likely be exiled."
While Xizong dreamed of being a polo champion, Huang Chao had already weathered the early crises of rebellion—and was marching toward Chang'an.]
Li Shimin's reaction was calmer than expected.
Partly because Empress Zhangsun was present, gripping his hands tightly and preventing an outburst.
Partly because none of this surprised him. The Northern and Southern Dynasties were not distant history to him—he knew exactly how Emperor Wu of Liang had died.
End-of-dynasty rot was something Li Shimin understood all too well: from top to bottom, it was mutual corruption.
Besides, he couldn't even control Li Longji—how could he possibly control descendants generations removed, locked in by aristocratic power?
Still, he couldn't help himself.
"These ministers and chancellors—do they take the Son of Heaven for a three-year-old child?"
Li Shimin didn't believe a single word about locusts dying from awe of imperial virtue.
He was far more willing to believe the great clans might clutch thorns and die.
Provided he stood behind them with a blade.
As for Emperor Wuzong—remembered for suppressing Buddhism—at least he wasn't an idiot.
Then came Cui Rao.
"He deserved every bit of that humiliation," Wei Zheng snapped. "No different from Emperor Hui of Jin!"
Fang Xuanling disagreed.
"Emperor Hui was born deficient—his foolish words are understandable."
"As for Cui Rao—raised among nobility, passed the examinations, yet ignorant of drought—this is not stupidity, but incompetence and cruelty!"
Li Shiji added cautiously, "If he was driven out by the military governor, it was surely due to his uselessness."
Du Ruhui, however, glanced thoughtfully at his colleagues.
Weren't these three the very ones just criticized by the light screen for defying imperial intent to marry into Shandong clans?
Then Du Ruhui remembered—he himself wasn't among them only because he died early… and because his son later became entangled in rebellion.
His mood darkened.
As for the last two emperors, Li Shimin summarized bluntly:
"This Yizong… eunuchs and great clans ruling Tang together?"
"And this Xizong… I only knew he fled Chang'an to Chengdu."
"I never realized he was so… versatile."
"Compared to him, even Liu Adou counts as a sage!"
Despite having prepared himself, Li Shimin felt his temples throb violently.
He nearly suffered another attack.
Liu Bei suddenly sneezed hard.
He glanced at the sky. Not cold today. Strange.
He, too, commented on Emperor Xizong.
"Chengdu is enclosed and isolated. For a Tang emperor to go there—his talents would find no use."
He thought of Liu Shan.
"Adou did not ruin Chengdu—thanks largely to Kongming's guidance."
"Adou inherited your benevolence," Zhuge Liang replied humbly. "That was not my achievement."
At least Liu Shan merely favored the eunuch Huang Hao.
Yizong, by contrast, followed eunuchs blindly.
Zhuge Liang shuddered at the thought of later figures often criticized by the light screen.
If someone like Zhao Gou were swapped with Liu Shan…
Yue Fei might rejoice—but Zhuge Liang dared not imagine the rest.
Too terrifying.
Pang Tong reread Huang Chao's chrysanthemum poem twice and admitted grudging admiration.
"The Tang truly had refined civil culture and military might. Even someone like this…"
He paused, then rephrased.
"Even a rebel leader like this possessed remarkable literary talent. The diction is plain, but the imagery stands like mountains."
Mi Zhu offered another explanation.
"Paper was cheaper then. Even poor scholars could read classics more easily than we can now."
"And with the rise of essay circulation, even those who failed the examinations still exchanged writings when visiting others."
"Poetry became a substitute for calling cards. Anyone who studied wrote verse."
Everyone nodded—it made perfect sense.
Liu Bei patted Zhang Fei's shoulder.
"Yide still has work to do."
Zhang Fei stared at him, baffled.
Liu Bei laughed.
"If Yide truly restores the Western Regions and drives out the barbarians—"
"Will you still settle for carving inscriptions on horseback?"
Zhang Fei fell into deep thought.
Carving inscriptions was impressive… but When my flower blooms, all others fall really did sound more imposing.
[Lightscreen]
[Huang Chao's uprising could only be called inevitable.
That year: eunuchs dominated the court, officialdom rotted, warlords carved up the realm, taxes crushed the people.
Wang Xianzhi rose first. The following year, Huang Chao gathered a thousand men in response.
Oppressed for decades, the people flocked to them. Their forces quickly grew to tens of thousands.
The court attempted suppression—but Wang and Huang coordinated well and moved quickly. Funds were insufficient, and the military governors saw no profit in fighting peasants.
So suppression failed.
Unable to defeat them, the court tried appeasement.
Emperor Xizong offered Wang Xianzhi a deal—obey, and you too can join the system.
Wang wavered. Huang Chao opposed it.
They fought. They split.
Without unity, Wang was defeated and killed.
Huang Chao became the sole leader, proclaimed General Who Soars to Heaven.
He fled south under siege, eventually capturing Guangzhou, hoping to stabilize and bide his time.
But the south was underdeveloped. Disease ravaged his forces—over ten thousand died.
To stabilize morale, Huang Chao announced a northern campaign, rallying under the banner of "Execute corrupt officials."
The march north was brutal.
Though he captured many cities, he suffered defeat at Jingmen and survived only through feigned surrender and heavy bribes.
Defeated again in Jiangxi the next year, he repeated the tactic—escaping to Zhejiang.
From there, Huang Chao entered the second phase of his life.
Victory followed victory.
Within half a year, Jiangxi, Anhui, and Henan fell in succession.
On the light screen, the red marker representing Huang Chao—once on the brink of extinction—suddenly surged like wildfire.
And its direction was unmistakable.
Straight toward Chang'an.]