"Equal to the Military Advisor?" Zhang Fei snorted, his skepticism radiating off him in waves.
He crossed his massive arms, eyes narrowing at the glowing screen. "I will believe that when I see it."
Kongming merely shook his head with a faint, humble smile. "Yide, I am but a mortal man. In the span of a thousand years, how many brilliant heroes must the world have produced? I would be a fool to think I stand alone at the peak."
Inwardly, however, Kongming's interest was thoroughly piqued. What kind of hero could earn such a comparison?
He leaned forward, his fan momentarily stilled, waiting for the revelation.
---
In the Ganlu Hall of the Great Tang, Li Shimin finally felt his spirits lift.
To be perfectly honest, while the Marquis Wu was undeniably impressive, the petty squabbling between Yang Yi and Wei Yan following his death had been utterly tedious to sit through.
Men who prioritized their personal vendettas and power struggles over the destruction of Cao Wei? It was beneath the dignity of the Great Tang's founding emperor. He had no patience for such small-mindedness.
"Prosperous Tang, Great Tang, Late Tang..."
Li Shimin muttered the words to himself, a mix of fascination and lingering regret coloring his tone. "A Marquis Wu of the Tang? I wonder how he compares to Yuchi Jingde? Or that Guo Ziyi we heard about earlier?"
[Lightscreen]
[Within the Mogao Caves of Dunhuang, there is a very famous cavern known as Cave 156. On its southern wall hangs a mural that can only be described as a national treasure. The identity of the artist has been lost to the ages, but the content remains vivid. A grand procession of a Tang army on the march.
At the front, cavalry guards lead the way. At the rear, musicians and dancers create a thunderous, celebratory atmosphere.
There are five teams each of civil and military riders, and in the center, surrounded by standard-bearers, stands a majestic general clad in brilliant Bright-Glow Armor.
This masterpiece is titled The Procession of Zhang Yichao's Army. And this mural serves as the greatest testament to the life of Zhang Yichao, the Jiedushi of the Guiyi Army, whose days were a tumultuous epic of devotion and sacrifice.]
"The Guiyi Army?" Li Shimin's eyes widened, the term catching him completely off guard.
He knew exactly what Guiyi meant. In the language of the frontiers, it meant Returning to Righteousness. To come from afar and submit to the central authority of China.
Was this Zhang Yichao a barbarian? Li Shimin wondered, his brow furrowing. But did the screen not just call him a Warrior of the Prosperous Tang? If he is a Tang man, why use the term Guiyi?
Looking at the mural, the general certainly looked the part of a Tang warrior, exuding an aura of undeniable authority.
At that moment, Li Shimin wanted nothing more than to reach into the light screen, grab that uneducated narrator by the collar, and demand to know what in the hell had happened to the fate of his Great Tang.
"Your Majesty, please, calm yourself," Wuji urged, sensing the Emperor's rising blood pressure. "Let us watch slowly. Though this is a scene from the Late Tang, we might be able to glimpse the ailments that eventually plagued the dynasty."
Li Shimin let out a cold huff. Though the context was still murky, his instincts as an Emperor of the Ages told him that some filial descendant down the line had likely made a complete mess of things.
[Lightscreen]
[A northward shift in the rainfall line improved the climate for the Tibetans, and Li Shimin, our dear Erfeng, sent a princess for a political marriage, which inadvertently solved Tibet's problems regarding production technology and technical data.
The newly strengthened Tibetans wasted no time being polite. Taking advantage of the An Lushan Rebellion, they seized the Hexi Corridor, becoming the largest slave owners in the region.
The Tibetans ruled this land with a strategy of divide and conquer. They won over the great clans while enslaving the common people.
For the Tang citizens living in Hexi at the time, having their faces or arms tattooed and being forced into slavery was considered a good outcome.
The elderly, the weak, and the disabled were either slaughtered outright or had their hands, feet, or eyes gouged out for sport before being discarded by the roadside.
Zhang Yichao was lucky. He was born into one of the great clans that the Tibetans sought to win over.
But he was also unlucky. As a Tang man, he grew up listening to the legends of the Prosperous Tang. His pride as a son of the Tang made it impossible for him to endure the sight of this once flourishing land being trampled in such a manner.
Later, when Zhang Huaishen composed an inscription for his uncle Zhang Yichao, he recalled his uncle's youth: He lingered like a Crouching Dragon, waiting for the right moment to rise!]
In Gong'an, the room erupted into a flurry of questions.
"Where is this Tibet?"
Eventually, every eye in the room landed on Jian Yong. He might not have been the smartest man present, but he was undoubtedly the most well-traveled.
Jian Yong looked troubled. He thought for a long moment before venturing, "Could it be the Qiang people?"
"Xianhe, do not joke," Zhang Fei grunted, dismissing the idea outright. "The Qiang are just a bunch of scattered barbarians, weak as a breeze. How could they ever become a threat to a great dynasty like the Tang?"
Kongming looked thoughtful. "If they are the enemy of the Tang, they are surely Hu barbarians. Since it is the land of Hexi, even if they are not the Qiang, they likely share a common origin with them."
But Kongming was far more interested in the reason for Tibet's rise. "The meaning of the rainfall line shifting north is unclear for now, so let us set that aside. But the part about the Tang Emperor solving their problems..."
Pang Tong, never one to mince words, chimed in. "Could it be that the Emperor of the Ages also grew senile and foolish in his old age?"
As the two military advisors debated, the generals watched with wide, confused eyes, struggling to follow the logic. Pang Tong looked at his lord, Liu Bei, and explained with uncharacteristic patience.
"My lord, compared to the mountain tribes of the Five Creeks or the Yue people, what is the one thing Han citizens possess that the barbarians do not?"
Liu Bei pondered this for a moment before answering what he thought was obvious. "The sons of Han have everything. The barbarians have nothing."
Pang Tong countered, "Then what if my lord ordered Ma Jichang to teach the Five Creek tribes the secrets of making wheeled carts, the agricultural methods of the Heavenly Creations, the techniques for making salt, and the mysteries of iron smelting? What then?"
Liu Bei recoiled at the thought. "Am I insane...?" He stopped mid-sentence as the realization hit him. "You do not mean..."
Kongming nodded solemnly. "The strange terms from the future. Production technology and data. They must refer to the Tang's essential crafts. Farming, metallurgy, salt production, and weaving."
Ma Liang finally understood. His poverty alleviation efforts among the Five Creek tribes were limited to helping with basic farming and irrigation. Touching salt or iron was something he would not dream of doing.
---
While Liu Bei and his men were stuck in a state of disbelief, the Ganlu Hall in the Great Tang was plunged into a chilling, high-pressure atmosphere.
Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui kept their heads down, scribbling furiously, refusing to look up. Wuji wanted to offer a word of comfort but feared being kicked across the room for his trouble.
"The suffering of my Tang people... did the sin originate with me?"
In his heart, Li Shimin felt profoundly wronged. First of all, he had not even engaged in a political marriage since taking the throne. And even if he had, he would only be following the established precedents of previous dynasties.
Wuji took a cautious step forward, exhaling slowly. "Your Majesty, why take the blame for the sins of a century later upon your own shoulders?"
Li Shimin remained silent. He could not judge whether the policy of political marriage, which had been in use for centuries, was truly flawed. But...
"Keming," Li Shimin said, his voice cold. "That term from the future. Production technology and data. We need to discuss it."
Du Ruhui made a note.
"We must track the movements of these Tibetans and wipe them out before they can rise."
Du Ruhui bowed. "By your command."
Setting the matter aside for the moment, Li Shimin turned his gaze back to the light screen. He looked at the mural that, even after a thousand years, still captured the vibrant spirit of the Tang people and the general at its center. He watched in silence.
[Lightscreen]
[About nine years after Zhang Yichao was born, the White-Haired Army of Anxi was completely wiped out.
This group of veterans, holding onto the pride and territory of the Tang, had fought from their youth until their hair turned white, holding their ground for forty-six years. After the city of Qiuci fell, the White-Haired Army was mutilated.
Their feet were cut off, and they were sold into slavery.
The Tibetans were overjoyed, broadcasting the report far and wide.
There are no more Tang people in the Hexi Corridor! Since Qiuci and Shazhou were not far apart, I imagine the young Zhang Yichao grew up listening to the legends of the White-Haired Army.
Perhaps it was their unshakable tenacity that showed him the true spirit of a Tang warrior. We will never know for sure.
The young Zhang Yichao also went into deep hiding in Shazhou. He studied the art of war, practiced his swordsmanship, and mastered the military classics, quietly waiting for his moment.
In the year 842, the Tsenpo of Tibet was assassinated. Two major Tibetan warlords, Shang Bibi and Lun Kongre, each backed a different infant Tsenpo. To seize the right of regency, the two warlords clashed violently. Their conflict left a single, horrifying line in the history books.
They plundered eight commanderies in Hexi, including Shan and Kuo.
They slaughtered the young and strong, cut off the noses and feet of the elderly and women, and skewered infants on spears for sport.
They burned homes and fields. For five thousand li, the earth was scorched red and bare.]
Li Shimin's eyes turned bloodshot with rage. My descendants were so incompetent!
A barbarian civil war, and yet they let my Tang subjects be butchered like animals!
"AAAGH!"
Wuji threw himself at the Emperor, wrapping his arms tightly around Li Shimin's legs and crying out, "Your Majesty! You are in your prime, and you are about to achieve merit that will last for eternity! Those Tibetans can be wiped out in the blink of an eye! If it pleases you, you can rip the heart out of their Tsenpo yourself to appease the Imperial Ancestral Temple! Please, do not harm your health with such rage! And look! Zhang Yichao will not let you down!"
Li Shimin wanted to kick him away, but Wuji was holding on so tightly he could not generate any power. After struggling for a moment, the Emperor finally calmed down, collapsing back onto his couch and rubbing his temples. His chronic headaches were flaring up again.
Wuji scrambled up and began skillfully massaging the Emperor's head. He waved a hand to signal Fang and Du that the danger had passed.
"I am enraged first by the chaos of the Tibetans, which caused my Tang people to suffer such atrocities,"
Li Shimin said slowly, his voice tight. "And second, I am moved by the lonely loyalty of that White-Haired Army. Forty-six years!"
As his voice rose in intensity, a fresh wave of pain shot through his head, forcing him to fall silent.
Du Ruhui, looking at the map on the screen, picked up the thread. "It must have been the An Lushan Rebellion that allowed the Tibetans to strike while we were weak and seize Hexi. The road from Chang'an to the Western Regions was cut off, yet those defenders held their ground until they were old men. Every man in that army had the integrity of a Su Wu."
Du Ruhui did not know how to properly praise them. He felt he was not even worthy of judging them. Fortunately, history had not forgotten.
Li Shimin pressed his fingers against his temples, his face twisting into a mocking sneer. "And my wonderful descendants? Forty-six years, and they could not even reclaim Hexi! Yet they could run to Chengdu at the first sign of trouble! That throne of theirs... it certainly seems stable!"
Though he spoke of praise, Fang and Du felt as if they were looking at a tiger baring its teeth. The air in the room turned cold and murderous.
---
In the side hall, Kongming's expression was one of profound respect and admiration.
Pang Tong whispered, "Looking at this legacy of the Prosperous Tang, it truly carries the aura of the Mighty Han."
"These barbarians deserve to be slaughtered!" Guan Yu growled, his voice thick with hatred.
Zhang Fei nodded, sharing his brother's fury. "The only good barbarians are the ones who have been turned into military merits! I am starting to envy Zhang Wenyuan now."
Zhang Fei had not forgotten that the future narrated Zhang Liao's greatest achievement as the Battle of Bailangshan, where he crushed the Wuhuan and beheaded their Shanyu. Wei Yan and Huang Zhong nodded in grim agreement.
Liu Bei looked at the words White-Haired Army and felt a deep surge of emotion. "The lonely loyalty of the Tang's White-Haired Army... it is in no way inferior to the fine sons of the Han Dynasty."
[Lightscreen]
[With the eight commanderies of Hexi scorched red and the people's resentment reaching a boiling point, Zhang Yichao no longer hesitated.
He launched his uprising. He was forty-nine years old. The General donned his heavy armor and shouted at the city gates. Every Tang man answered the call.
The Tibetan governor fled, and Zhang Yichao took temporary command of Shazhou. The city was liberated. But he did not stop there to enjoy the peace. He led his army eastward, and Guazhou fell in a single battle. After reclaiming Sha and Gua, Zhang Yichao consulted with his men and established their ultimate goal.
To return to the Tang!
He did not hesitate. In his capacity as the acting Prefect of Shazhou, he wrote a military report to the Tang Emperor, formally offering his submission.
Ten teams of personal guards, carrying the heavy dispatches, set out in different directions toward Chang'an.
Out of those ten teams, nine met with disaster.
Only Gao Jinda survived. They climbed onto the Alxa Plateau from Guazhou, headed east, reached the north of what is now Yinchuan, and then marched all the way south.
A journey of over three thousand li. They set out in 848 and finally reached Chang'an at the end of 850.
This small team endured deserts, high plateaus, the predations of the Dangxiang people, and the relentless pursuit of the Tibetans.
Finally, six men reached Chang'an. They brought the news of the liberation of Sha and Gua to Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, a man often called the Little Taizong.
They brought the news to the Tang generals who watched the Xiliang Dancers perform with no sense of shame.
And they brought the news to the Tang people who had been waiting for forty long years to hear it.]