In a sense, Liu Bei found himself envying even the Song dynasty.
"Only the ancestors of Yin left behind registers and canon," sighed the Book of Documents.
When Emperor Guangwu restored the Han, the models he could draw upon were painfully few: the Former Han, and the Qin, which had survived barely fourteen years. By the time Li Shimin governed the realm, however, he could examine four hundred years of Han success and failure, dissect two centuries of aristocratic chaos, and even hold up the fallen Sui as a mirror for self-reflection.
The Song dynasty went further still. With a thousand years of history as reference, it could correct the excesses of prior regimes above, and extend the wisdom of earlier sages below.
Of course, for reasons no one could quite explain, the Song never truly learned the martial prowess of Han and Tang.
But when it came to technology, the Light Screen made one thing clear: almost everything the Song achieved was inheritance and refinement—taking the rough creations of their predecessors and perfecting them.
Liu Bei saw all of this, and recently, he saw something else as well—how exhausted Kongming had become.
Text who few people bothered with, like the Mo Jing and Lun Heng, were being corrected and collated by Kongming's own hand. He was reorganizing their principles into clear categories. The Nine Chapters and the Zhoubi had been recopied and studied anew, explained in plain language, their simplest methods selected and handed to Liu Ba to teach at the small academy.
If Kongming had enjoyed the luxury of a thousand years of recorded history, would he really need to work himself to the bone like this?
Now that the Light Screen had granted these pioneers a chance to consult the wisdom of later generations, Liu Bei had no intention of letting it go to waste.
No matter how trivial or dull an incident might seem—at this moment, it was treasure.
[Light Screen]
[After Tang destroyed the Eastern Turks, the surrounding states fell silent in fear. One by one, they hurried to crown Li Shimin with a lofty title:
"Heavenly Khagan."
Only the Tuyuhun khagan, Fuyun, stood up and sneered.
Li Shimin? What's he worth? If I want to raid, I raid. What can he do about it?
Tuyuhun was no upstart. It had been a persistent power since the Sui, controlling at its height half the Hexi Corridor and vast stretches of the Western Regions, constantly sending troops to pillage the borders.
Throughout the Sui, the dynasty had been powerless against them.
Their heartland lay on a plateau three thousand meters above sea level. They knew the terrain. If they couldn't win, they hid. When your supplies ran dry, they came back out just to disgust you.
Yang Guang once launched a massive campaign against Tuyuhun. He won—but gained nothing. Once his army's provisions were exhausted, Tuyuhun cavalry rode straight to the Hetao region, and Yang Guang had no answer.
Thus Fuyun never took the Central Plains seriously. Early in Li Shimin's reign, as the Tang court swallowed humiliation to recover from the Weishui crisis, Fuyun only grew more arrogant.
Heavenly Khagan? That's it?
After the Eastern Turks fell, Fuyun sent token envoys to Chang'an—some stale tribute to say how impressive the Heavenly Khagan was—while his riders never stopped raiding the borders.
Diplomatically, he treated the title of Heavenly Khagan like a footrag.
When Li Shimin sent the Court Gentleman Zhao Dekai to question him, Fuyun waved a hand, detained the envoy, and sent him off to the Western Regions to grow melons.
Then, while stalling wave after wave of Tang envoys, Fuyun captured Shanzhou, Lanzhou, and Kuozhou in succession—only afterward reluctantly releasing Zhao Dekai.
In 634, Li Shimin finally snapped.
He established the Western Sea Commandery, appointed Duan Zhixuan as expeditionary commander, and ordered the Qibi, Dangxiang, and other tribes to cooperate.
The result mirrored Yang Guang's campaign.
Defeated, Fuyun withdrew at once.
Duan Zhixuan dragged his army around Qinghai for a month, eating rations and admiring scenery. Not a single enemy appeared. When supplies ran low, he was forced to retreat.
Before he even reached the capital, reports arrived: Tuyuhun riders had emerged again and attacked Wuwei.
Li Shimin's patience finally shattered.
I wanted to treat you as a Heavenly Khagan, he thought bitterly.
You repaid me by climbing onto my head.
Very well. I'll be frank.
I have Li Jing—the general who ends nations.
Wash your necks and wait.]
The Court of Tang
"General who ends nations?"
Li Jing rolled the words on his tongue and laughed quietly. Less refined than Heavenly Strategist General, perhaps—but the power in it was undeniable.
Nearby, Li Ji was already burning with indignation.
"These people truly don't know death," he declared. "Qieli has just been captured—this is no time for restraint. Grant me five thousand cavalry, and I will bring Fuyun bound before the throne!"
Li Shimin glanced at him, smiling faintly, and waved a hand.
He understood Li Ji perfectly.
Not everyone could match Li Jing's confidence—rising to fame only after fifty. Li Ji was just thirty-six, in his prime. He had served under Li Jing against Fu Gongshi, served under Li Jing again against the Eastern Turks.
Before, he might have said nothing.
But now the Light Screen had certified him as one of the three great generals of early Tang. How could his ambitions stay still?
Li Shimin's gaze drifted to the thoughtful Su Lie.
"Dingfang," the emperor asked suddenly, "if I appointed you expeditionary commander, how many troops would you need?"
Su Lie looked at Li Ji, then answered solemnly:
"With the Light Screen's guidance—three thousand elite cavalry would suffice."
In truth, three thousand was far from enough. Even Li Ji's five thousand would be thin. Tuyuhun was no stray dog.
But titles came first. Troops could always be requested later.
Besides—Su Lie remembered clearly.
His foster father, Gao Yaxian, had died by Li Ji's hand.
Though the matter was long past, if there was a chance to needle Li Ji, Su Lie would never let it slip.
Li Shimin saw through it all at a glance and smoothly changed the subject.
"Why mobilize the whole realm against petty bandits?" he said lightly. "Let us see how Yaoshi breaks them."
In his heart, Fuyun already had a cross drawn over his name.
Qieli had commanded a hundred thousand riders and grown arrogant.
Fuyun, by contrast, was simply clueless.
Did he truly believe that owning a plateau and knowing the terrain made him invincible?
The Hundred Riders Bureau had already coaxed multiple methods of overcoming altitude sickness from Hu merchants. The Thousand Ox Guards had gone in disguise, carrying cane sugar, to test and record the results.
As for geography—the maps displayed by the Light Screen were surely clearer than anything hanging in Fuyun's tent.
Li Shimin had decided: when Fuyun was captured, he would be sent to live beside Qieli.
They could keep each other company.
[Light Screen]
[From a purely self-preserving perspective, Li Jing was ill-suited to command the Tuyuhun campaign.
At fifty, he destroyed Xiao Xian.
At fifty-two, he pacified Fu Gongshi.
At fifty-eight, he conquered Qieli Khan.
Three states in eight years.
Even with Li Shimin above him, such achievements invited suspicion. Li Jing understood this well. After becoming chancellor, he spoke rarely and deliberately faded into the background. After four years, citing a leg ailment, he requested retirement.
The emperor approved.
By any measure, Li Jing's life was already complete.
The real dilemma belonged to Li Shimin.
Duan Zhixuan had been toyed with. For the dignity of the Tang—and to conserve national strength—the next commander had to guarantee victory.
And when Li Shimin asked himself who he trusted most, the answer remained Li Jing.
Yet he had already accepted Li Jing's resignation.
Re-summoning him by force would have been shameless.
So the emperor played a small trick.
Within days, rumors spread through Chang'an.
"Have you heard? His Majesty wept over the Tuyuhun reports yesterday!"
"Why?"
"What else? Duan Zhixuan failed. They say the emperor cried, If only the Duke of Wei were here—how could we suffer such humiliation?"
The implication was obvious.
Everyone also knew Li Jing did not have to go.
He was injured. It was winter. The plateau was deadly. A sixty-three-year-old man could die with a single misstep.
Victory would earn him little more than surplus glory.
Defeat would destroy a lifetime of honor.
Yet Li Jing was Li Jing.
The moment the rumor reached his ears, he went straight to Fang Xuanling's residence—and volunteered.
Li Shimin was overjoyed.
Li Jing was appointed Grand Commander of the Western Sea Expedition.
Four months later—Tuyuhun was annihilated.]
In the Ganlu Hall ministers stole glances at their emperor.
Li Shimin felt his face warm. I really could have done that, he admitted to himself, and immediately praised:
"Yaoshi risked his life for the state—this is true righteousness!"
"Four months to annihilate a nation—Han Xin, Bai Qi, Wei Qing, Huo Qubing could not surpass this!"
The court joined in the praise, graciously setting aside questions about imperial theatrics.
Li Jing smiled modestly, returning each salute.
"This is merely a general's duty," he said. "Nothing worth mentioning."
He even defended his colleague.
"Duan Zhixuan is a capable general. It is only that the Tuyuhun were too cunning."
Li Ji's face was full of grievance.
Your Majesty, consider me too—I can do it as well.
Su Lie, meanwhile, was openly envious.
The old general before him seemed impossibly tall.
Who wouldn't want to learn the art of ending nations?
I must visit him more often… though my stipend from Kuangdao Prefecture is meager. Perhaps I should ask His Majesty for help?
On a low stool, the twenty-three-year-old county deputy Wang Xuance felt as though he were listening to legends.
He knew of Tuyuhun—it had plagued Hexi since the Sui, and Hexi lay close to Guanzhong. Chang'an merchants cursed the name with clenched teeth.
Yet this old general had destroyed it in four months.
The emperor's praise felt entirely justified.
For the first time, Wang Xuance gained a new understanding of the Tang.
In the Chengdu prefectural office, Zhang Fei was grumbling.
"This old general is too fierce. Sixty-three, and he wipes out a country in four months."
"Second Brother flooded seven armies and shook the realm—two months."
"Compared to that, Big Brother and I look like we don't know how to fight at all."
Liu Bei shot him a sidelong glance, tempted to argue—until he remembered his own defeat at Yiling at sixty-two, locked in stalemate with Lu Xun for half a year before collapse.
He decided silence was wiser.
Kongming, on the other hand, gently flicked his feather fan and looked at Zhao Yun.
"To take the north," he said softly, "we must have unmatched cavalry."
Zhao Yun did not answer.
His eyes burned with intent.
The future truly belongs to cavalry.