In the awestruck eyes of the Great Tang's sovereign and his ministers, the glowing map detailing Master Xuanzang's grueling pilgrimage slowly faded into the digital ether.
Boom.
A heavy, resonant drumbeat echoed through the hall. It was accompanied by the hum of an unrecognizable, synthesized instrument. The sound was not merely heard. It was felt. It slammed right into the chests of every person in the Ganlu Hall, causing the Emperor and his battle-hardened cabinet to suddenly clutch their chests as their breath hitched.
A split second later, a breathtaking montage flashed across the massive screen.
In the distance, an ancient, towering pagoda radiated with cascading waves of multicolored neon light. Up close, the sweeping eaves of traditional palace roofs practically glowed with artificial brilliance. The broad, endless avenues were utterly saturated with golden light, flanked by glowing artificial trees that burned brighter than a thousand lanterns.
The brief flash of the modern world immediately sent the Ganlu Hall into absolute chaos.
"Are the Immortals watching us from the very clouds themselves?" one minister gasped, his eyes bulging out of his skull.
"Wait, are we flying? Has the divine artifact taken us into the heavens?" another shouted in sheer panic, grabbing the edge of his desk to anchor himself.
Li Shimin, however, sat perfectly still. Having already witnessed the futuristic, glowing skyline of modern Chengdu in a previous broadcast, the Emperor remained completely unfazed. He merely leveled a cold, authoritative glare at his panicking cabinet.
"The future generations possess a myriad of miraculous methods. What is there to be so terrified about?" Li Shimin barked, his voice dripping with imperial dignity. "Silence yourselves and watch!"
Down in the front row, Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui were desperately biting their inner cheeks to hold back their laughter. Wei Zheng and the other upright officials simply bowed their heads in profound respect. As expected of His Majesty. His composure is truly divine.
In the back of the hall, the legendary royal painter Yan Liben had his eyes stretched so wide they threatened to pop out of their sockets. He had completely abandoned any thought of trying to sketch the chaotic, rapidly shifting images. Instead, he burned every single neon hue, every angle of light, and every shadow into his eidetic memory, vowing to painstakingly recreate the divine vision later.
Boom. Another heavy drumbeat pulsed through the air, followed by the same strange instrumental hum and another split-second silhouette of a glowing building. The deliberate pacing was driving the Zhenguan cabinet absolutely crazy with anticipation.
Then, the floodgates opened.
It sounded as if a thousand completely different instruments had all started playing in perfect harmony at once, accompanied by the booming voices of a hundred celestial beings singing from the clouds.
The radiant, impossibly bright cityscape materialized fully on the screen. The camera glided effortlessly through the air, acting as a divine tour guide, taking the ancient sovereign and his ministers on a breathtaking flight over the world of a millennium later.
To help the confused ancients, the divine screen thoughtfully provided bright, glowing text labels.
The camera hovered over a massive, rustic, incredibly well-preserved Buddhist tower. Every single ancient brick and weathered tile was rendered in ultra-high definition, whispering the long, silent tales of a thousand years of history.
[The Great Wild Goose Pagoda]
The view shifted down to a massive, pristine plaza. Standing proudly in the center was a towering bronze statue of a monk. The figure clutched a traditional Buddhist staff, his face cast in an expression of absolute, unshakeable resolve as he gazed forever southward.
[Statue of Master Xuanzang]
The phantom camera swept past the bronze monk and continued its southern flight. It soared over an impossibly long pedestrian avenue that was absolutely drowning in golden light and packed with a sea of modern humans. Suddenly, a massive, breathtaking complex of dozens of lifelike bronze sculptures came into view.
The statues captured a dizzying array of expressions and postures, all beautifully accented with ancient poems, scattered scrolls, carved paintings, and stone steles.
Some statues threw their heads back, appearing to sing with wild, uninhibited passion. Others bore deep frowns, seemingly weeping for the hardships of the common folk. Some looked perfectly at peace with the universe, while others were locked in solemn, profound contemplation.
Next to every single figure was a small, elegantly carved stone plaque displaying their name. The ministers of the Zhenguan court desperately squinted, trying to read the names as the camera zipped past. Due to the high speed and the camera angles, they only managed to catch a few.
"Li Bai!" someone shouted.
"Du Fu! And Du Mu!" another minister pointed out rapidly.
"Liu Yuxi!"
These were the names of future literary titans they had already learned about from the divine screen's previous casual lore drops.
"Wait, Wu Daozi!"
"Wang Wei! Wang Zhihuan!"
And then, a collective gasp echoed through the hall.
"Yan Lide! And Yan Liben!"
[The Gallery of Great Tang Heroes]
Every single head in the Ganlu Hall whipped around so fast that several older ministers nearly threw out their necks. They stared in absolute shock at the royal painter huddled in the back. None of them had ever expected that the first actual acquaintance they would see immortalized in the future would be a court painter!
Yan Liben himself was completely paralyzed. He stood rooted to the spot, his hands trembling wildly. His entire body swayed back and forth as if he had just chugged three jugs of exceptionally strong wine.
I... I actually get to be remembered alongside my older brother? My name will survive to the future generations? Yan Liben's mind had gone completely blank from sheer euphoria.
Li Shimin did not even bother to congratulate his lucky painter.
He could not.
The Emperor's eyes were completely glued to the screen because the camera had just revealed the centerpiece of the plaza. He was looking at himself.
It was a monument of absolute, supreme martial glory.
A grand military band marched at the front of the sculpted procession. Banners and war flags fluttered aggressively in the sculpted wind. Fierce, loyal generals rode powerful warhorses, forming an impenetrable wall of steel and muscle around their supreme sovereign.
At the very center sat the bronze Li Shimin. He held the reins of his massive warhorse in one hand, while his other hand was pressed downward in a gesture of effortless, overwhelming authority.
Zhangsun Wuji immediately seized the perfect opportunity to flatter his boss. "This statue perfectly captures the essence of pacifying the realm! It radiates Your Majesty's supreme imperial bearing!"
Carved onto the massive pillar supporting the statue were four bold, imposing characters.
[The Supreme General of Zhenguan]
Li Shimin let out a loud, unrestrained laugh. He was incredibly pleased.
Meanwhile, every single military general in the room was aggressively leaning forward, their eyes squinting so hard they were practically tearing up. Even the usually stoic Li Jing sat perfectly upright, his gaze burning holes into the screen. There were six magnificent generals riding next to the Emperor's statue. Surely, they had to be in that lineup, right?
[The Reign of Zhenguan]
No matter how satisfied Li Shimin was, the camera was not going to wait around for him to admire his own abs. The view moved on.
However, the very next group of statues caught the Emperor completely off guard. It was not a monument to brilliant scholars or blood-soaked warlords.
It was a simple, touching tableau. A mother holding her infant. A burly man protecting a young child. An old grandfather laughing with his grandson. A young, muscular porter carrying heavy goods on his shoulders, looking toward a bright horizon.
Wei Zheng, ever the scholar, read the title plaque aloud.
[Water Can Carry a Boat, But It Can Also Overturn It]
Without needing a single second to think, Wei Zheng reflexively quoted the ancient wisdom. "The ruler is the boat, and the common people are the water. The water can carry the boat, but it can also rise up and capsize it."
It was a famous quote from the ancient philosopher Xunzi. Every single man in the room had memorized it since childhood. But seeing this profound philosophical warning physically carved into a massive monument by future generations caused a heavy, solemn silence to fall over the ministers. They all lowered their heads in deep thought.
Li Shimin felt a cold chill run down his spine. His mind instantly flashed back to the horrifying prophecy of Huang Chao, the future rebel whose name had been dropped in a previous broadcast. The future generations had referred to his violent rampage as an "uprising."
When the Tang provides the commoners with a good life, they become the water that keeps the massive ship of state afloat, Li Shimin thought grimly. But when the Tang eventually devolves into the source of their endless suffering... they become a raging storm and drag my empire straight to the bottom of the sea.
The heavy, suffocating silence in the Ganlu Hall was suddenly shattered by the booming, obnoxious voice of General Yuchi Jingde.
"Well, congratulations to the Duke of Xing and the Duke of Cai!"
Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui snapped their heads up. The screen was currently displaying a magnificent statue of two towering civilian officials leading the charge of the bureaucracy. One was stroking his beard in deep, calculating thought. The other had his hand raised, frozen in the middle of making a decisive, ruthless command.
As for their identities? The glowing text next to the statues made it incredibly obvious.
[Fang the Planner, Du the Decider]
The entire hall erupted into chaotic congratulations. Zhangsun Wuji's eyes flickered with a complicated mix of deep melancholy and bitter jealousy, but he quickly masked it with a polite smile and offered his own congratulations.
Fang Xuanling just stood there, stroking his actual beard and chuckling like a happy grandfather. Du Ruhui, ever the pragmatist, simply cupped his hands and bowed toward the throne.
"If not for Your Majesty's divine foresight, there would be no legendary Zhenguan era to pass down to history," Du Ruhui said smoothly. "And without that, there would be no glorious prosperity for these future generations to remember."
Li Shimin laughed heartily, raising a hand to humbly accept the compliment. Having his ministers immortalized for their genius was ultimately a reflection of his own greatness. Giving absolute geniuses the perfect stage to flex their talents was definitely something worth bragging about.
However, the Emperor's good mood completely evaporated when the camera panned to the next monument.
The statues depicted an absolutely massive, overwhelming imperial procession. There were court attendants holding towering ceremonial fans. There were grand imperial canopies blocking out the sun. It was a procession completely exclusive to the absolute ruler of the universe.
Yet, the person sitting at the very center of this divine protection was a woman.
The glowing text was impossible to misinterpret.
[Empress Wu's Procession]
Wei Zheng's face instantly scrunched up in disgust. "Even if this woman contributed greatly to the Tang, how dare an Empress blatantly overstep her boundaries and use the ceremonial trappings of a ruling Emperor?"
Because this issue directly involved the imperial harem, the military generals instantly shut their mouths and stared at the ceiling, pretending they were not there.
Du Ruhui's face, previously flushed with excitement, turned pale. He slowly shook his head.
"She did not overstep her boundaries, Lord Wei," Du Ruhui whispered.
Wei Zheng opened his mouth to argue, but Du Ruhui cut him off, speaking every word with agonizing clarity. "She did not overstep, because she explicitly declared herself Emperor. The future generations call her the Female Emperor. Wu Zetian."
Wei Zheng was struck entirely speechless. His jaw hung open. He slowly turned his head to look at the throne, only to find Li Shimin staring blankly into space, looking completely dissociated from reality.
The surrounding generals were utterly horrified. They all immediately dropped their heads, desperately trying to hide the sheer panic and shock written all over their faces.
Li Shimin rubbed his temples, feeling an exhausting, crushing weight settle onto his shoulders. He finally had to face the nightmare scenario he had been dreading.
If he had been confused before about how a woman could possibly usurp the Tang, the recent revelation that his young son Li Zhi would eventually inherit the throne painted a very clear, very bloody picture.
Usurpation.
Did Li Zhi learn by his father's example and seize the throne through violence?
Did this Empress Wu then follow suit, staging her own coup to rip the crown from her husband's family?
For a terrifying moment, Li Shimin felt a wave of absolute exhaustion wash over his soul. He possessed the supreme confidence to pacify the entire world, subjugate the foreign barbarians, and forge a golden age.
But what was he supposed to do about his own violently dysfunctional family?
He had seen the historical spoilers regarding his son Li Zhi's achievements.
Sure, the kid was apparently a bit arrogant and loved chasing glory, but he also successfully eradicated Goguryeo and wiped out the Western Turks.
Li Zhi had successfully extended the golden age and built a massive, terrifyingly powerful Tang Empire. The history books clearly confirmed this.
So why was everything still falling apart from the inside out?
In his dazed state, Li Shimin hallucinated. He saw the ghosts of his dead brothers fighting for power. He saw the marble floors of the imperial palace slick with royal blood. He saw the shadowy corners of the harem hiding poisoned daggers meant for the Crown Prince.
In his eyes, the magnificent, neon-lit prosperity of the Great Tang Everbright City was suddenly covered by a faint, inescapable veil of blood.
He waved a tired hand, sinking deeper into his golden chair, and looked up at the final group of statues on the screen.
[The Prosperous Era of Kaiyuan]
The monument was built on a massive, three-tiered platform. Standing at the very top, silhouetted against a golden dragon wall, was Emperor Xuanzong, looking down on the world with absolute arrogance. The second tier was packed with brilliant civil and military officials, representing an empire at its absolute peak. The bottom tier featured a grand orchestra, playing the soundtrack of a perfect world.
But Li Shimin was in an incredibly foul mood. He had a sudden, violent urge to throw his teacup at the screen, but he forced his hand down, letting out a defeated sigh.
Zhangsun Wuji stepped forward, his voice incredibly cautious. "Your Majesty, please remember. From the era of this Emperor Xuanzong and onward, the Tang still belonged to the Li clan."
It was a convoluted way of phrasing it, but Li Shimin understood the hidden comfort. The Wu clan might have stolen the throne for a while, but the Li clan eventually took it back. They survived.
Li Shimin stared at the screen as it finally faded to black. He looked down and saw his entire cabinet staring back at him with genuine, unfiltered concern.
Finally, the Emperor let out a dry, self-deprecating chuckle.
"If the future generations possess such terrifying, god-like technology," Li Shimin declared, his voice slowly regaining its iron edge. "Then they must certainly possess a flawless method for managing the imperial succession that my Tang has yet to discover."
He sat up straight, his eyes burning with renewed imperial fire. "There are still twenty years left in the Zhenguan era. The prince, Li Zhi, is merely a one-year-old infant. I have more than enough time to forge his character, educate his mind, and completely rewrite his destiny."
His words carried the absolute, terrifying determination of an Emperor who refused to let history defeat him.
"This so-called Sleepless City is just one single, flashy street. It still cannot compare to the sheer scale of our Chengdu."
Liu Bei, currently acting as the supreme spiritual defender of Yizhou, immediately issued his coping verdict.
So what if they had fancy bronze statues? So what if their names were known a thousand years later? Could any of that compare to having actual temples where future generations actively burned incense and worshipped you like a god? That neon-lit street looked like a loud, obnoxious marketplace, not a sacred place of reverence.
"Furthermore, regarding this Female Emperor. The narrator explicitly stated she was first an Empress Consort, and then became the Emperor."
Liu Bei's mind raced, instantly recalling a terrifying, off-hand comment the screen had made several broadcasts ago regarding when Empress Lü held absolute power.
Did this Empress Wu copy Empress Lü's playbook, but actually cross the final line and declare herself a Emperor? Liu Bei could not prove it, but he felt an eerie, terrifying sense of déjà vu.
Was this supposedly invincible Tang dynasty just speedrunning the exact same mistakes as the Han dynasty?
Were eunuchs and royal in-laws really just going to take turns destroying empires forever?
For a brief, amusing moment, Liu Bei found himself genuinely curious. Since both the Han and the Tang have now explicitly proven that this exact disaster happens, surely the future dynasties like the Song and the Ming did not fall for the exact same trap, right?
Kongming interrupted his lord's historical musings, his tone incredibly serious. "My lord, you must carve the phrase 'Water can carry a boat, but it can also overturn it' into your very soul."
Liu Bei smiled softly, waving a hand. "If the commoners despise the government, the Son of Heaven cannot sit securely on his throne. Do you really think I do not understand such a basic truth?"
Kongming nodded, deeply relieved by his lord's unwavering humanity. "The Great Tang possesses an overwhelming number of brilliant talents. But our Han is not lacking either."
He then shot Liu Bei a deeply regretful, slightly pitying look.
The only thing we probably cannot ever catch up to is that Tang Emperor's terrifying, god-tier battlefield command capabilities.
Liu Bei caught the look. He glanced down at his own hands, utterly confused, and then shot Kongming a look that clearly asked, Are you roasting my military skills right now?
On the other side of the room, Zhang Song and Liu Ba were staring at the darkened screen like starving dogs looking at a butcher shop window.
When the Tang's Sleepless City was shown, Liu Bei and Kongming had aggressively whispered to them, bragging about how the screen had previously shown the futuristic, glowing city of Chengdu. They claimed it was vastly superior to the Tang city. Because of this, Zhang Song and Liu Ba were dying to see it for themselves.
Zhang Song, being a native son of Chengdu, practically wanted to dive headfirst into the magical screen to see his futuristic hometown.
[Lightscreen]
[Comparatively speaking, while Master Xuanzang's original, primary objective was to retrieve holy scriptures, his actual greatest contribution to future generations was accidentally writing the Great Tang Records on the Western Regions.
First, we have to talk about Xuanzang's most incredibly rare quality: his absolute, unshakeable loyalty to his identity as a child of Yan and Huang. His patriotism was off the charts.
In our modern era, we have people who blindly worship foreign countries. We have spiritual Americans, spiritual Northern Europeans, and so on. So, back in the Sui and Tang dynasties, when Buddhism was the ultimate global trend, it was not surprising that a lot of Chinese monks became spiritual Indians.
Take Master Faxian, who we discussed earlier. He traveled to India with another monk named Daozheng. When Faxian finally packed his bags to return to China, Daozheng flat-out refused to leave. He took a holy vow to be reincarnated in India for all eternity because he thought China was inferior. Faxian, completely alone and seventy years old, had to sail back by himself and nearly died in a shipwreck doing it.
During Xuanzang's era, there was another highly famous monk named Daoxuan. He wrote a massive historical text called the Shijia Fangzhi, where he basically argued a massive, unpatriotic thesis: India is the only pure land; the Tang is a cursed wasteland that cannot be saved.
Furthermore, after Xuanzang returned home a hero, Daoxuan wrote his biography in the Continued Biographies of Eminent Monks. In it, Daoxuan blatantly projected his own self-loathing onto Xuanzang. He wrote: "When Xuanzang first arrived in India, he fainted from sheer joy. When he woke up and saw the holy relics, he wept, deeply hating the fact that he was born in a savage, primitive borderland like the Great Tang."
Daoxuan literally claimed that Xuanzang was chronically depressed because he had to return to China.
But does that even make a shred of logical sense? Xuanzang was a theological juggernaut! He single-handedly conquered Indian academia! He held the equivalent of three absolute PhDs in Mahayana, Moksha, and Tripitaka theology. The headmaster of Nalanda University literally begged Xuanzang to inherit the entire institution!
If Master Xuanzang actually hated the Tang and wanted to stay in India, he could have snapped his fingers and lived there like an absolute king! Who could have stopped him?]