[Light Screen]
[When faced with Li Jing's army, the Tuyuhun khagan Fuyun responded exactly as he always had.
He retreated.
He fortified.
He waited.
The strategy was old, familiar, and—until now—annoyingly effective.
Before Li Jing even spoke, his generals had already started arguing.
Li Daozong, a proven commander, stepped forward and volunteered for the vanguard. His view was simple: pursue immediately, strike while the enemy was withdrawing.
Hou Junji shot that down just as quickly. Retreating so cleanly? Too suspicious. There had to be a trap.
Li Jing listened, weighed both sides, and made his decision.
Li Daozong would lead the vanguard.
Hou Junji would bring up the rear and provide support.
Li Jing himself would remain with the central army, overseeing the supply train and advancing steadily.
It was a calm arrangement—measured, balanced, and very much Li Jing's style.
Li Daozong did not waste the opportunity.
With four thousand cavalry, he launched a ten-day forced march and caught up with Fuyun. Not only that—he still had energy to spare. He split off another thousand riders, sent them looping around the rear, and struck.
One battle.
That was all it took.
Fuyun broke.
Facing the Tang army's relentless advance, the Tuyuhun khagan's survival instincts went into overdrive. He began dividing his forces.
Fuyun personally led his core troops toward the headwaters of the Yellow River, hoping to preserve what remained.
At the same time, the Tuyuhun chancellor, the Tianzhu King, led elite units across Qinghai, setting fire to pastureland wherever they went—burning grass, destroying grazing routes, and aiming straight for the Tang army's lifeline.
This was not a small problem.
Moving supplies from Guanzhong to Qinghai was already difficult. Without pasture, it became nearly impossible.
With the situation deteriorating, most of the Tang commanders urged withdrawal.
Except for Hou Junji.
He alone insisted they continue the pursuit.
After all, the Tang army had already won a major victory. Retreating now would still look good on paper.
But Li Jing had never planned for a partial victory.
He had set out to destroy Tuyuhun entirely—and he had no intention of changing that goal halfway through.
The old general overruled everyone.
The pursuit would continue.
And once again, the army would split.
Li Jing personally took on the hardest assignment. Under scorched-earth conditions, he led troops to engage Tuyuhun's main forces around Qinghai.
Meanwhile, Hou Junji—now the sole voice calling for continued battle—was ordered to lead a separate force, with Li Daozong as his deputy, to chase down Khagan Fuyun himself.
Thus began one of the most brutal pursuit campaigns of the early Tang.]
Kongming studied the simplified battle diagram glowing on the Light Screen.
From the Han to the Tang, and onward to the Song, craftsmanship had evolved—and so had warfare. Weapons changed. Formations changed. The way armies moved and fought never stood still.
Zhao Yun had once explained the importance of stirrups to him at length. But none of that matched the impact of seeing cavalry warfare displayed so vividly—especially the Battle of Talas.
That battle showed two extremes of cavalry doctrine.
One emphasized raw impact to its absolute limit: rider and horse both wrapped in heavy armor. Ten riders charging together were enough to turn anything in front of them into debris.
The other emphasized mobility to its limit: cavalry and infantry working in coordination, foot soldiers suppressing the enemy with bows and crossbows while mounted units maneuvered, encircled, and struck from unexpected angles.
Which approach was superior was hard to say.
But the early stages of the Tang campaign against Tuyuhun made one thing very clear.
Tang light cavalry was terrifyingly effective.
Li Daozong's lightning raid reminded Kongming of a familiar figure from history. He couldn't help but sigh:
"Cavalry moving like thunder,
Crossbow bolts falling like rain.
Raiding day and night across a thousand li—
An enemy collapses before you can even breathe."
Zhang Fei, unusually, said nothing.
He simply watched.
Inside his head, he replayed the movements again and again, quietly running through the possibilities.
Pure cavalry warfare was new territory for him. Reading about it in records was one thing—seeing it unfold like this was something else entirely.
And looking ahead—whether in Yongliang, Guanzhong, or stretching from Yuzhou to Youzhou—battles involving organized cavalry formations were only going to become more common. If nothing else, this was a valuable lesson.
[Light Screen]
[Tuyuhun's scorched-earth tactics worked.
Supplies became a serious problem for the Tang army.
Li Jing's initial solution was almost disarmingly straightforward: there were Dangxiang tribes nearby—buy grain from them.
It wasn't a wild idea. Earlier, when Duan Zhixuan had campaigned against Tuyuhun, the Dangxiang had assisted. Relations were decent. Trade should have been possible.
Unfortunately, something went wrong.
Very wrong.
There was a Dangxiang tribe living near Qinghai Lake. Li Jing approached this carefully and thoroughly: he spoke kindly to their chieftain, Tuoba Chici, and backed his words with generous gifts.
The results were immediate.
Tuoba Chici agreed not only to sell grain, but also to provide guides and help transport supplies.
At this point, things were going suspiciously well.
Then Li Daoyan happened.
Li Daoyan—another of Li Shimin's cousins—marched his troops near the Dangxiang settlement, took one look at the unguarded tribespeople, and launched a surprise attack.
No warning. No orders. No reason.
He attacked.
That alone would have been bad enough.
But somehow, with ten thousand troops, Li Daoyan managed to achieve very little. He seized only a few thousand head of livestock—and immediately triggered a furious Dangxiang counterattack.
The result was catastrophic.
Thousands of Tang soldiers were killed. Li Daoyan fled the Qinghai front entirely.
The grain was gone.
The guides were gone.
The alliance was gone.
Li Jing was probably stunned into silence.
Back in Chang'an, Tang Jian likely laughed until his stomach hurt.
With both supplies and guides wiped out in one move, Li Jing had no choice.
He switched modes.
From late April onward, in just half a month, the Tang army unleashed a relentless sequence of strikes:
Xue Gu'er, one of Li Jing's generals, crushed Tuyuhun forces at Mantou Mountain.
Li Jing personally led the army to victory at Niuxindui.
He pursued and defeated them again at the Red Water Source.
Another Tang general, Li Daliang, won decisively at Shuhun Mountain.
Zhi Shi Silie defeated Tuyuhun forces at Juru River.
Five battles.
Five victories.
In barely two weeks, the elite cavalry under the Tuyuhun chancellor Tianzhu King was completely wiped out.
Even better—the enemy's grain stores became Li Jing's grain stores.
What baffled later historians was how Li Jing seemed to fight in Qinghai as if it were his own backyard. Every battle landed exactly where it needed to. Every strike hit something vital.
The contrast was embarrassing.
Duan Zhixuan, the previous commander of the Western Sea Expedition, had spent a full month wandering around Qinghai Lake and achieved absolutely nothing.
After five straight defeats, the Tuyuhun chancellor Tianzhu King made a desperate choice.
He gathered everything he had left and prepared an ambush.
The Tang army walked straight into it.
And didn't flinch.
Xue Wanjun and Xue Wanche, the two vanguard commanders, fought while outnumbered, holding the Tuyuhun forces in place.
Then Qibi Heli—one of the great early Tang generals—arrived with just over five hundred cavalry and charged directly into several thousand enemy riders.
It ended in another decisive victory.
After that battle, Tuyuhun forces around Qinghai Lake effectively ceased to exist.
They were wiped out.
Meanwhile, on Hou Junji's front, the war turned into a contest of endurance.
Khagan Fuyun fled.
Hou Junji chased.
From Mount Ku, they crossed the Eula Mountains, passed the Bitter Sea, and pursued all the way to Eoling Lake at the source of the Yellow River—over two thousand li.
Fuyun refused to die quietly.
He turned north.
Hou Junji followed.
Eventually, at Dafeichuan, Hou Junji linked up with Li Jing, who had arrived to support him.
Hou Junji gave a brief report and couldn't help complaining: Fuyun could really run. He was exhausted.
Li Jing ordered him to rest.
Qibi Heli and Xue Wanjun took over the pursuit.
Once again, it became a chase.
Following Fuyun's trail, the Tang army crossed the Tarim Basin, pushing into what is now Xinjiang. After forty days and fifteen hundred kilometers, they finally found the Tuyuhun camp resting near the Tarim River.
By then, Fuyun's nerves were shattered.
The moment contact was made, he fled straight into the Taklamakan Desert.
The Tang army charged.
The battle was a rout.
Thousands were killed.
Fuyun's wives and children were captured.
Over two hundred thousand head of livestock and supplies were seized.
Fuyun escaped with only a thousand men.]
But inside the desert, with no supplies and no future, discipline collapsed. Internal strife erupted. His own attendants conspired together, killed him, and delivered his head to the Tang army in exchange for their lives.
Four months.
Six thousand li of pursuit and battle.
The state of Tuyuhun was annihilated.
"From Liaodong to the western frontiers," Li Ji said with quiet admiration,
"among the four foreign powers that refuse to submit to Great Tang—Goguryeo, the Turks, Tuyuhun, and Tibet—General Yaoshi has personally destroyed two. Such achievements are truly exceptional."
There was envy in his words, but more than that, respect.
Part of it was age. Li Jing was more than twenty years his senior.
But more importantly, Li Ji could see it clearly now—Li Jing's command had reached the level of mastery.
When facing Xiao Xian, he had combined naval power with stratagem.
Against the Turks, he had coordinated cavalry and grand strategy.
And in the destruction of Tuyuhun, he had demonstrated something else entirely: relentless pursuit, anticipation of the enemy's every move, and the ability to force decisive battle again and again.
Three campaigns. Three entirely different methods.
Each one decisive.
Li Ji had nothing left to say.
And once Tuyuhun was destroyed, General Yaoshi would be enfeoffed as Duke of Wei.
After that… perhaps it would finally be his own turn to make a name for himself.
He could not help but wonder:
Which state would become his stepping stone?
"Six thousand li," Li Shimin repeated, smiling broadly.
"Six thousand li of pursuit and battle."
His expression was one of pure satisfaction.
"All of them," the Emperor said, "are fine sons of Great Tang."
As someone who loved bold advances and decisive charges, Li Shimin understood better than anyone how much such a campaign demanded of ordinary soldiers. The Tang army displayed on the light screen filled him with pride.
If there was anything he found displeasing, it was the performance of two members of the imperial clan.
"Li Daozong," the Emperor said coolly,
"was bold when boldness was needed—but hesitated when the moment called for a final decision."
He paused, then his tone hardened.
"As for Li Daoyan…"
Killing intent seeped unmistakably into his words.
"If I had been commanding the army," Li Shimin said flatly,
"I would have bound him before the ranks and executed him on the spot."
Su Lie silently reflected:
Was His Majesty angrier that Li Daoyan had disobeyed orders and attacked the Dangxiang people on his own initiative?
Or that he had managed to lose badly despite attacking an unprepared enemy?
The Emperor soon shifted the topic, his tone turning faintly regretful.
"When Hou Junji was present, the light screen scarcely mentioned him. Now that he is gone, his contributions finally appear."
It was only a casual remark—but it was clear that Li Shimin still hoped that this old subordinate might yet redeem himself.
Li Jing, hearing the light screen joke about Tang Jian laughing himself sick back in Chang'an, could only smile wryly.
He truly had no idea what madness had seized Li Daoyan at the time.
No matter how one looked at it, campaigning in Tuyuhun territory made guides and supply lines critical.
And yet that man had somehow managed to destroy both at once.
As for the so-called "killing-god mode" mentioned by the light screen, Li Jing merely shook his head inwardly.
He was no native of Qinghai.
How could he possibly predict the enemy's movements every single time?
The truth was far simpler—and far harsher.
He had been forced into it.
Forced to adapt. Forced to fight immediately. Forced to live off the enemy.
Nothing more.
Du Ruhui, meanwhile, was already thinking ahead.
"With Tuyuhun destroyed," he said thoughtfully,
"the next target should be Gaochang."
"Destroy Gaochang, establish the Anxi Protectorate. Only then will Great Tang truly control the Hexi Corridor and be able to look westward."
Du Ruhui nodded to himself.
The roadmap for Tang expansion in the Western Regions during the Zhenguan era was becoming clear.
Which left only one great question.
Goguryeo.
A land His Majesty would one day personally campaign against—yet fail to conquer.
When that day came, whose name would history remember?
"This battle…" Qin Qiong said slowly after a soft cough,
"is truly something to yearn for."
Yuchi Jingde understood the unspoken regret in his old comrade's voice.
They had been the Emperor's most trusted generals.
Now that the realm was unified and the Tang dynasty ascendant, this should have been the era when they rode forth to pacify the four directions.
But time was unforgiving.
"General Qin," Sun Simiao said calmly,
"if you devote yourself to recovery, it may not be impossible for you to return to command."
Qin Qiong's eyes lit up instantly.
"Truly?"
Sun Simiao looked him over, then shook his head.
"Such long-distance pursuit is no longer possible," he said.
"But directing troops on the field? That is still within reach."
Qin Qiong smiled, relieved.
"That is enough."