Regarding Li Shimin's troubles, although Zhuge Liang was not entirely clear, he had his suspicions. After all, judging by the direction of the future descendants' discussions, Li Chengqian was likely a prince of great significance—and potentially great trouble—to the Tang Dynasty. Phrases like "Hu-fication" (adopting barbarian ways) and "complicated issues" were never good omens.
But if one spoke seriously…
Kongming's gaze drifted upward. He stared intently for a long while at the Presentation of Captives painting signed by Yan Liben.
Civil and military officials, arranged in strict order.
Generals and soldiers, each bearing unmistakable bearing.
Scholars and commoners alike, praising their own state's achievements.
The destruction of a rival state and the offering of captives—only then does a flourishing dynasty truly begin.
Previously, all impressions of Tang prosperity had come only from the written words of later generations, and recent discussions of Tang had mostly centered on its decline.
Yet now, seeing this painting personally created by Tang's famed "divinely inspired painter," Kongming finally understood—just a little—what Flourishing Tang truly meant.
Zhang Fei's eyes flickered with envy as he muttered softly,
"No wonder the Guiyi Army only said it had a fraction of Tang's grandeur."
Wei Yan felt the same admiration.
For the two generals, all past pride was crushed into dust by this single image.
No matter how many miraculous victories one claimed—winning with fewer troops, defeating enemies through cunning—three questions alone remained:
Did you destroy a state and present captives?
Did your achievements rival Wei Qing and Huo Qubing?
Would your name endure for ten thousand generations?
Liu Bei, too, stared blankly at the emperor atop the city gate.
The painter lived up to his reputation—the figures were vivid, almost alive. Liu Bei could see clearly.
A young emperor destined for eternity.
Conquer the realm.
Sit upon the realm.
Govern the realm.
It reminded Liu Bei of himself seven years earlier in Jingzhou, when he wept over his aging thighs.
Envy filled him.
Yet Liu Bei, who had risen from obscurity, knew his own strengths and limits better than anyone.
In commanding armies and governing a state, he could not compare to Li Shimin's dazzling brilliance.
But he had two military strategists.
Two sworn brothers.
Zhao Zilong, who never abandoned him.
Soldiers willing to die at his command.
And loyal ministers who still carried the Han dynasty in their hearts.
Looking around the room at those gathered under his banner, Liu Bei smiled faintly.
What need have I to envy a peerless emperor?
The Han is not alone—and now shall prosper.
Kongming glanced at his lord, who wore an odd mixture of frowns, smiles, and inscrutable expressions, scratched his head in confusion, and chose not to think too deeply about it. Instead, he turned back to Mi Zhu.
"The papermaking process," Kongming said, "must continue to be refined."
Mi Zhu agreed, counting on his fingers as he spoke.
"Low-cost bamboo paper began trial production last year and has already shown promise."
"Now we also know that sandalwood bark can be used for fine paper, and even rice and wheat stalks are viable."
"We'll need to recruit more papermakers in Jing Province. The current workshops are far from sufficient."
Kongming nodded in satisfaction.
"As long as you have a clear plan, Zizhong, that is enough."
"And there's more," Mi Zhu added after a moment's thought.
"The mounting and framing methods shown by later generations are truly excellent."
"Young elites of Jiangdong are rich in talent—and wealthy enough to throw away ten thousand gold on calligraphy and paintings."
The implication was simple: drain the pockets of Jiangdong's great families.
Kongming nodded indifferently. Compared to bamboo paper or fine paper, mounting techniques earned only small money.
Moreover, the light screen only showed the front of the Presentation of Captives—the back remained unseen. Developing proper mounting techniques would likely require considerable effort.
As for the flower-tower loom, although no images were shown, the screen stated it was an improvement upon the drawloom. That alone provided a direction for research.
When the familiar three-month preview finally appeared on the light screen, the officials in the Chengdu Prefecture stretched their stiff necks. The session had lasted unusually long; staring upward the whole time had left everyone sore.
Before Liu Bei could speak, several ministers had already taken their leave.
Zhang Fei and Pang Tong were returning together to garrison Hanzhong. Before departing, Zhang Fei hesitated, then said,
"Brother, during the battle at Yangping Pass, Feng'er was the first to climb the walls and slew two enemies."
"Later, while pursuing the routed troops in Hanzhong, he killed three more."
Liu Bei did not hesitate.
"Promote him as merit dictates. There's no need to ask me."
"Good!" Zhang Fei beamed.
Nearby, Mi Zhu lowered his voice.
"General Yide… my younger brother…"
Zhang Fei thought for a moment, then replied succinctly,
"Alive."
The word was simple, but Mi Zhu was already satisfied.
Since both had been mentioned, Liu Bei—feeling responsible toward Ma Liang—asked as well,
"And Ma Su? How did he fare?"
This time Zhang Fei hesitated before answering.
"He didn't desert," he said finally. "But he really likes sweets."
This development was entirely unexpected. After pulling Zhang Fei aside and asking in detail, Liu Bei could only laugh helplessly.
"This Ma Su… truly not a man for command. At best, he's suited to staff work—not the battlefield."
Zhang Fei disagreed.
"War is merciless. There's no such thing as complete safety."
"If he can't cultivate courage, he'd be better off staying in the rear."
"Otherwise, if the battle turns ill… I fear there would be outcomes better left unspoken."
Liu Bei fell silent, finding the logic hard to refute.
"Then have Feng'er discipline them closely."
From Yizhou to Hanzhong, half the journey went by land, half by water.
Zhang Fei and Pang Tong departed Chengdu, traveled several days to Jiameng Pass, then entered the Han River. A small boat carried them to Hanzhong in half a day.
Pang Tong, physically weaker, went to rest upon arrival.
Zhang Fei, energetic as ever, immediately ordered his guards to summon Liu Feng.
He studied the face before him—so unlike Liu Bei's.
Liu Bei's features were heroic but gentle in line.
Liu Feng's face, by contrast, was all sharp angles, as if carved by blade and chisel. One glance gave only one impression:
Hard.
After two battles, some of that raw vigor had faded, replaced by a cold, killing edge.
Without preamble, Zhang Fei tossed him a cavalry command token.
"Do not betray your father's expectations."
Joy flashed across Liu Feng's face, quickly suppressed. He cupped his fists and accepted the token.
Zhang Fei's expression softened slightly.
"Your father and Master Mi both instructed me—Mi Fang and Ma Su are to be disciplined by you."
"No high demands. Just make them act like men."
This was already Zhang Fei's lowest expectation.
After dismissing the delighted Liu Feng, Zhang Fei reviewed Hanzhong's defenses, then finally returned to rest.
The next morning, as Zhang Fei entered the main hall, he saw Pang Tong holding a bowl of thin porridge, shaking his head at a letter on the table.
"Advisor Pang—news from Dong Jue?"
This was Zhang Fei's greatest concern.
Pang Tong shook his head.
"Ma Mengqi sent a letter, inviting us to march on Qishan and attack Han Sui together."
"Hah. Those people of Yong and Liang really do turn on a dime."
Zhang Fei had a servant bring him porridge as well, cursing as he ate.
In the current situation, Ma Chao held the eastern part of Yong-Liang, guarding the Longshan routes—also the more prosperous region.
Han Sui had retreated westward. If Zhang Fei marched through the Qishan route, the first force he'd meet would be Han Sui, waiting at ease.
Pang Tong tapped the letter lightly.
"Han Sui's envoy is likely already on the road as well—inviting us to attack Ma Mengqi together."
Zhang Fei shook his head, uninterested.
"We help neither. Let them fight each other to the death."
Pang Tong laughed.
"And if Han Sui's envoy goes on to Guanzhong, asking Xiahou Yuan to strike Ma Chao from both sides?"
"What then, General Zhang?"
Zhang Fei froze.
His thoughts jammed abruptly.
"…Give me a moment. Let me sort this out."