Chengdu.
"This Tang dynasty—only three or five years, yet already it feels like a completely different country."
Xu Shu let out a quiet sigh.
The sense of dislocation was overwhelming, almost physically unsettling.
It was as though someone had torn history in half and glued the pieces back together crookedly.
"Isn't that the truth," Zhang Fei muttered, unable to stop himself.
"You can charge through battlefields, slaughter kingdoms, spill oceans of blood—
and in the end, your head still ends up hanging from the corner tower at Tong Pass."
Not long ago, Zhang Fei had felt genuine admiration—even envy—for the Tang.
But now, watching Tang soldiers hacking at each other in paired duels, fighting with the kind of desperation that only ends when blood runs dry, a chill crept up his spine.
In Emperor Suzong's eyes, there were no people of Chang'an.
There was only one thing—
That chair, at the very top of the palace.
"Military Advisor," Zhang Fei asked, turning toward Kongming,
"Does this so-called real Zhuge serving that little muddle-headed emperor—does his strategy actually make sense?"
Kongming had already spread a map across the table.
He ignored Zhang Fei's chaotic naming habits and carefully measured distances with his fingers, tracing through each location Li Bi had mentioned.
Finally, he nodded gravely.
"It is feasible," Kongming said slowly.
"But—"
"But it cannot be done without elite troops," Xu Shu cut in smoothly.
The two old friends shared this kind of tacit understanding without effort.
"If this plan is used," Xu Shu continued,
"supply lines will be stretched thin. Only veteran troops and capable commanders can adapt to changing circumstances."
The implication was obvious:
Even in this near-hopeless state, Tang still possessed elite armies.
Li Guangbi commanded the Hedong Army.
Guo Ziyi led the Shuofang Army.
These were, without exaggeration, first-rate forces.
Kongming nodded again, then slid his finger slowly across the map.
"But if we follow the little mudd—"
He paused, corrected himself with restraint.
"—Suzong's plan."
Zhang Fei burst out laughing and earned himself a silent glare from Kongming.
"First retake Chang'an," Kongming continued,
"then attack Luoyang, forcing the rebel main force back into Hebei."
"In that case," he said calmly,
"Suzong's army ends up on a prolonged expedition instead."
"And if the rebels regroup in Hebei with the same resolve they showed at Xiangji Temple—"
Xu Shu finished the thought, his tone flat and decisive:
"Then the imperial army will certainly be defeated."
"No wonder this rebellion dragged on for eight years," Xu Shu added bitterly.
"With generals and soldiers like this…"
He looked up at the light-screen.
The final image frozen there was of a towering warrior, bare-chested, massive but not bloated, muscle layered thick across his torso. His wild beard flared outward, giving him a ferocious, almost demonic presence.
In his hands was a strange weapon—the modao.
He was mid-swing, cutting down an elite cavalryman.
Before him stretched a sea of rebel troops.
Behind him stood comrades roaring in unison.
Beside the image were small characters:
"Divine Might General. Modao God. Li Siye."
Xu Shu exhaled softly and shook his head in regret.
"Strength spent at the end," he murmured.
Kongming and Xu Shu could see clearly that this sequence of suppressing the rebellion would only make Hebei harder to pacify.
Ganlu Hall
Li Jing and Li Shimin, of course, saw it too.
But neither felt like speaking anymore.
So what if the rebellion was hard to suppress?
So what if the rebels might push back?
When the Son of Heaven himself approved the looting of civilians—
Who, then, was the real enemy?
"When the ruler treats the people as dirt,"When the ruler treats the people as dirt,
the people treat the ruler as a mortal foe."
The voice was dry, unadorned.
Li Shimin didn't even need to turn his head to know it was Wei Zheng.
Fang Xuanling, gentle by nature, didn't criticize outright. He merely quoted a line everyone knew by heart:
"The people are precious."The people are precious.
The state comes next.The state comes next.
The ruler is the least."
Du Ruhui, flipping through old records, added calmly—deliberately raising Li Shimin's blood pressure:
"Regarding the Mawei Slope Mutiny—later generations call Li Fuguo Suzong's trusted confidant."
"And earlier records note that Li Fuguo rose to the position of chancellor," Du continued.
"Which suggests it was during Suzong's reign."
Li Shimin's only reaction was a slight lift of his eyelids.
Then he laughed.
"Discarding the true Zhuge, and relying on eunuchs instead," he said.
"Truly—my fine descendants."
"Later ages mock Liu Shan as a useless A'dou," Li Shimin added.
"Compared to this—he was a hundred times better."
He felt as though the blood in his heart had finally run dry.
In just three short years—
Elite troops wiped out.
Brave warriors ground into dust.
Loyal ministers buried in wastelands.
Men dying for the state—while the emperor sold the people.
He had only just ascended the throne.
The Zhenguan era had barely begun.
And yet—
He already felt the imperial house might require drastic medicine.
[ Lightscreen]
[Before the Battle of Xiangji Temple, a small incident occurred within the rebel camp.
An Lushan—died.
An Lushan suffered from xiaoke disease—diabetes.
According to historical records, after capturing Chang'an, An Lushan was already in the advanced stages of the illness.
He went blind.
His body became covered in festering sores.
Excessive blood sugar damages retinal capillaries, causing blurred vision early on and eventual blindness.
Insulin deficiency leads to skin degeneration, ulcers, and infections that heal poorly.
All these symptoms matched An Lushan precisely.
After capturing Luoyang, An Lushan hastily proclaimed himself emperor, founding the state of Yan and taking the title "Emperor of Martial Valor."
But after less than a year as a bargain-bin emperor, his blindness and illness worsened his temper.
He beat and cursed those around him, treating them like livestock.
The one who suffered most was the eunuch Li Zhu'er.
A Khitan by birth, Li Zhu'er had been castrated by An Lushan himself through crude methods—somehow surviving—and remained at his side thereafter.
Records note that when An Lushan bathed at Huaqing Pool, it was Li Zhu'er who attended him.
Faced with a blind, deranged, violently abusive ruler, the rebels chose a simple solution:
Why not kill him?
His second son, An Qingxu, conspired with strategist Yan Zhuang, recruiting Li Zhu'er.
Li Zhu'er's hatred was deep. Agreement came easily.
In January 757, An Qingxu guarded the tent entrance while Li Zhu'er and Yan Zhuang entered with knives.
An Lushan, blind and asleep, was hacked to death with little resistance.
A pit was dug beneath the bed. His corpse, wrapped crudely in a blanket, was tossed in and buried.
Afterward, Yan Zhuang announced that An Lushan had voluntarily abdicated and become Taishang Huang.
As for the others?
In 759, An Qingxu was killed by Shi Siming.
In 761, Shi Siming was killed by his son Shi Chaoyi.
In 762, April—Emperor Xuanzong died.
May—Emperor Suzong died.
The three central figures of the An Lushan Rebellion met strikingly similar ends.
One cannot help recalling Dream of the Red Chamber's lament:
"When the birds are fed, they fly back to the forest—"When the birds are fed, they fly back to the forest—
leaving behind a vast, white, empty land."]
Ganlu Hall
Li Shimin remained silent.
Before the rebellion, he had longed for An Lushan's death.
Yet when the rebel finally met such an absurd, ignoble end—
It felt meaningless.
As for the chain of sons killing fathers, and the suspicious timing of Xuanzong's death—
Li Shimin only curled his lips in disdain.
"When the birds are fed, they fly back to the forest…"
"Hahaha."
Of course, it wouldn't truly end like that.
The Tang still had nearly a century left.
His thoughts drifted far—
To the white-haired soldiers holding Anxi for fifty years.
To Zhang Yichao, who with sheer will reclaimed territory for Tang.
Those men were the last remaining backbone of the dynasty.
Sun Simiao said nothing.
He carefully copied down the medical portions of the record, studying them intently.
Healing people—he had done his utmost.
Healing a state—that was beyond him.
The Ganlu Hall fell silent.
Each man turned his own thoughts.
Fang, Du, and Wei considered whether they should persuade the emperor to design a proper system for educating heirs.
Li Jing, versed in warfare, saw the faint outline of a future where imperial authority waned and military power rose.
As for Zhangsun Wuji, he glanced at Hou Junji beside him.
The general, who had entered the Qin Prince's household young, wore his worries plainly.
"Concerned we might abandon the Western Regions?" Changsun Wuji whispered.
Hou Junji stared at him in surprise.
How did you know?
Zhangsun Wuji snorted softly.
"The Son of Heaven has great ambition. He will not despair over later generations."
"The Western Regions," he said firmly,
"must remain in Tang's hands."
Hou Junji didn't fully understand the first half.
But he understood the last—and brightened immediately.
[Lightscreen]
[After the Battle of Xiangji Temple, Chang'an was recovered.
The Uyghurs moved to collect their reward.
Emperor Daizong Li Yu and the Uyghur crown prince Yabghu argued:
If Chang'an were looted immediately, the people of Luoyang would regard the Tang as bandits, making that city impossible to retake. Better to honor the agreement after Luoyang fell.
The Uyghurs agreed.
Historical records state that surviving Chang'an residents wept in gratitude, praising Li Yu as "Lord of both Hua and Yi."
Subsequent battles went smoothly.
The Uyghurs, acting as the vanguard, crushed rebel forces at Shaan Prefecture.
If Gao Xianzhi's spirit still lingered, he might have sighed:
Told you. Shaan Prefecture was impossible to hold.
As for what happened after Luoyang fell…
Old Book of Tang:
"Upon recovering the Eastern Capital, the Uyghurs entered the treasury and seized wealth, then looted markets and villages for three days."
Zizhi Tongjian adds:
After three days, Li Yu entered Luoyang. The Uyghurs still wanted more. Surviving wealthy households pooled ten thousand bolts of silk, only then did the Uyghurs withdraw.]
Bang!
A stone inkstone flew through the air, smashing into the light-screen and thudding dully against the wall beyond.
It rolled across the floor—completely intact.
Everyone stared first at the inkstone.
Then at Li Shimin.
His expression was cold, but his voice was eerily calm.
"So they did know," he said.
"I thought they were simply ignorant."
"These imperial troops," he sneered,
"are worse than rebels."
He narrowed his eyes, wishing he could drag Xuanzong, Suzong, and Daizong before him and kick them one by one.
But if he couldn't kick future emperors—
The Uyghurs, at least, were present-day enemies.
Those people lacked virtue, yet dared demand such extortion while claiming to aid their suzerain.
They clearly hadn't felt Tang's power deeply enough.
No one felt like joking.
Chang'an or Luoyang—both were Tang capitals.
Looting Luoyang instead hardly preserved any dignity.
They were heroes of Zhenguan, not self-deceiving rats.
[Lightscreen]
[After both capitals were recovered, Yan Zhenqing finally made his way from Hebei to Chang'an.]