Philosophers were fond of quoting that old saying about the people being water and the monarch being a boat. Li Shimin preferred a different analogy. The Great Tang was a big ship. A really, really big ship. The people were the tide beneath it, and he was just the guy standing at the bow, trying to see through the fog ahead.
The records left behind by previous dynasties served as his charts.
Thanks to his ancestors' explorations and the texts they had preserved, Li Shimin understood his world.
He knew the Hexi Corridor was wealthy. He knew the Western Regions were strategically valuable. He knew the horses of Liaodong were among the finest. He knew the Eastern Sea stretched beyond imagination.
That knowledge gave the Tang Empire direction, but it also had limits. Relying only on inherited records was like observing the world through a narrow tube. You could see what lay directly ahead while remaining blind to everything beyond the edges.
The Tibetan Empire had been hiding in precisely that blind spot.
The future descendant had mentioned it almost casually, as if discussing an ordinary fact. Yet the implications were huge. Tibet would rise alongside the Tang and spend two centuries fighting for control of the western frontier.
Li Shimin lowered his gaze to the map on his desk. The immense plateau dominated the southwest like a natural fortress. Towering mountains shielded its southern and western approaches, leaving only a handful of practical directions for expansion. Any ruler looking at the terrain would reach the same conclusion. If Tibet wanted to grow stronger, it would eventually push east toward the Hexi Corridor and north toward the Western Regions.
And if the Tang wanted to secure its future, those were precisely the territories it could never afford to surrender.
Conclusion? War was inevitable.
The light Screen had also claimed that his decision to arrange a royal marriage with Tibet basically handed them the technology they needed to become a superpower.
Li Shimin remained unconvinced. He had already spent most of the morning debating this with Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui, and all three had reached the same conclusion. The explanation didn't hold up.
Look at the Turks in the north. Look at Goguryeo in the northeast. They shared borders with the Tang. If stealing technology was that simple, they would have copied Tang innovations and risen up by now. So why hadn't they?
Exactly. A few books and some craftsmen given as wedding gifts couldn't build an empire. The real source of Tibet's military strength was somewhere else. Finding that secret was now the war council's top priority.
Action had already been taken. Starting last year, under Li Shimin's personal instructions, elite guards had quietly expanded intelligence operations deep into the southern and western frontiers. Foreign merchants and wandering monks in Chang'an's markets were now high-value targets. Everyone was involved. Young aristocrats in elite cavalry units worked alongside street-smart teenage informants from the Ministry of Justice.
They cast a wide net. A constant stream of raw intelligence flowed onto Li Shimin's desk.
The Ministry of Justice agents had become so efficient that commoners started whispering about a secret organization. Someone eventually gave it a name, Liu Shan Men, or The Six Doors.
When the rumor reached the palace, Li Shimin just chuckled.
Let them whisper.
While the Emperor was occupied with questions of strategy and statecraft, the rest of the Zhenguan court had discovered a far more pressing matter.
They were bullying Li Jing. And this was their only chance. If they didn't bully him now, the opportunity might never come again.
"Future generations seem extraordinarily fond of you, Yaoshi," one minister remarked with a smile. "Wouldn't it be improper if you failed to leave them a piece of calligraphy?"
The suggestion was immediately met with enthusiastic agreement. Several officials joined in, and before long even the usually composed Li Jing found himself surrounded on all sides.
Seeing no easy path of escape, he eventually surrendered.
"If I refuse, will you finally leave me in peace?"
"Absolutely not," someone replied.
The hall burst into laughter.
Shaking his head, Li Jing rose from his seat and borrowed Yan Liben's desk. After carefully grinding the ink, he took up a brush and began writing.
The gathered officials watched with considerable interest. After all, military achievement could be studied from books. Watching Li Jing personally write a piece of calligraphy was a considerably rarer opportunity.
Before long, the work was finished.
Li Jing examined it briefly and nodded in satisfaction. The calligraphy itself was suitable, but a new problem immediately presented itself.
A single sheet of paper felt somewhat underwhelming as an imperial gift. Ordinarily, it would be mounted, framed, and prepared properly. Unfortunately, no one had expected future generations to appear in the sky, and there was hardly enough time to organize such details.
Just as Li Jing was considering the matter, Du Ruhui suddenly smiled.
"As it happens, I may have a solution."
Reaching into his sleeve, he produced an elegant wooden box and placed it on the table.
"His Majesty removed this from the inner treasury yesterday. It was sent as tribute from Lingnan."
The surrounding officials immediately leaned forward with curiosity.
Du Ruhui opened the lid. Inside rested a finely polished bronze mirror, its craftsmanship exquisite even by court standards.
Li Jing's eyes brightened.
"Excellent."
With that, the final problem was solved. He carefully rolled up the calligraphy, wrapped it in silk, and placed it beside the mirror inside the box. The combination looked far more presentable than a simple sheet of paper alone.
The officials gathered around to inspect the finished gift and quickly expressed their approval.
"Not bad."
"Future generations will probably treasure it."
"If they don't, they can return it."
"How exactly are they supposed to return it?"
"That sounds like their problem."
The hall once again filled with laughter.
---
Far to the south, in Chengdu's administrative headquarters, the gift-sending rituals were already finished.
Zhang Fei was pacing the war room, holding a thick stack of hastily copied notes. He cornered the two top strategists of Shu Han.
"This Tang general says warfare depends on three types of momentum," Zhang Fei rumbled, frowning. "How exactly are we supposed to understand that?"
Zhuge Liang and Pang Tong exchanged an amused glance. Then they burst out laughing.
Zhuge Liang recovered first. He waved his feather fan.
"Oh, Yide. Remember the basic principle. An army has no fixed form." He tapped the notes in Zhang Fei's hand. "Look at Li Jing's explanation. He talks about two ways to fight. Direct and indirect."
He explained slowly.
"Direct tactics are when you attack head-on. You line up your troops and smash into theirs. Simple. Brutal. It works when you're stronger."
He paused.
"Indirect tactics are when you trick them. You fake a retreat. You ambush them from the side. You hit their supply lines. You make them think you're somewhere you're not."
He leaned forward.
"Direct, indirect, the three momentums... they're just ideas. Tools in your head. They help you think, but they don't fight for you."
Zhuge Liang smiled.
"A thousand methods ultimately serve the same purpose."
"Winning," Zhang Fei immediately answered.
"Exactly."
Pang Tong chimed in.
"You fought a brilliant campaign in Hanzhong, Yide. You deserve high honors for that. When you read these military texts, don't get lost in the theory. Think about what you actually did on the battlefield. That's how you learn. Don't just memorize and copy."
His expression grew slightly more serious.
"The greatest mistake a commander can make is treating military texts as recipes."
If someone needed a textbook analysis of logistics, Zhuge Liang and Pang Tong were unbeatable.
But if someone needed to actually lead troops in the chaos of battle, the two scholars combined couldn't match Zhang Fei's raw instincts. They were genuinely worried he would overthink himself into trouble.
Fortunately, Zhang Fei understood immediately.
He slapped a hand against his chest and laughed. "Don't worry. I won't let a pile of books make me forget how to fight."
The Han generals had a clear hierarchy when discussing military history. For inspiration, they looked to Wei Qing and Huo Qubing. For basic doctrine, they looked back to Han Xin and the founding emperor. For a cautionary tale about book-smart idiots getting their armies slaughtered, they looked at Zhao Kuo. That guy had all the theory in the world. Still lost. Still got everyone killed.
Zhuge Liang watched with satisfaction as Zhang Fei eagerly trotted over to Zhao Yun, shoving the notes into his hands to debate the theories.
If a man like Li Jing could lead a continental conquest at nearly seventy, there was no reason Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, and Zhao Yun couldn't do the same.
Suddenly, a brilliant light washed over the courtyard.
[Lightscreen]
[Hey everyone! The big boss sent over some incredibly thoughtful gifts today.
First of all, I can personally confirm that the two jars of cane sugar are authentic. I may or may not have sampled some for quality control purposes.
Since I happened to have a few ingredients at home, I tried making some traditional sugar paintings and candied hawthorns. The results are... acceptable. Let's all generously ignore the craftsmanship and focus on the historical significance.
As for the calligraphy, I absolutely love it. It's already one of my favorite pieces in the collection.
There was also a mirror packed together with it. At first glance, I thought it was a bronze mirror because of the shape and craftsmanship. Then I picked it up and immediately realized something was off.
The thing is surprisingly heavy, but the metal is completely white.
Seriously, does anyone know what this is made from?
I've seen plenty of bronze mirrors before, but I've never handled one that looked quite like this.
The preservation is excellent, the craftsmanship is beautiful, and the material doesn't seem to match anything I expected.
Right now, I'm honestly more curious about the mirror than the sugar.]
The viewers in Chengdu shifted their gaze to the glowing images on the screen.
The first image showed the two ceramic jars of premium cane sugar that Liu Ba had offered at the altar. Fair enough. The future generations had given them the formula for refining sugar, so returning the finished product was just common courtesy.
The second image showed a complete disaster of sugar art. The hardened syrup was a chaotic, misshapen blob. If you squinted hard enough, it vaguely looked like a fist giving a thumbs up.
The third image looked much better. Several bright red fruits were skewered on a stick, covered in a shiny shell of hardened sugar. It actually looked pretty good.
"Huh..Those look like wild sour berries," Zhao Yun said, recognizing the fruit.
They grew wild in the mountains. Technically edible, but the sourness was so intense it could make your face pucker for hours. Foragers rarely bothered with them.
That said, everyone present was already familiar with the capabilities of refined sugar.
The refinery south of Chengdu had become famous enough that many of the officials had visited it personally.
With enough sugar involved, even unpleasantly sour fruit could become a desirable treat.
Several people silently committed the recipe to memory.
The fourth image showed a clean piece of calligraphy. The brushstrokes were disciplined, structured, with no emotional flair. Efficient. Like the man who wrote it.
The text read: 'A victorious army wins first and seeks battle later. A defeated army fights first and seeks victory later.'
The signature was simple: 'Li Jing of Sanyuan, Yongzhou.'
Zhang Fei crossed his arms, looking genuinely disappointed.
"I really thought he would sign it as the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King." He shook his head. "What a missed opportunity."
Pang Tong chuckled. "Maybe he thought that would be too arrogant."
"Too arrogant? The man became a god. How is signing his real name less arrogant?"
"I don't think that's how it works."
"It's how I want it to work."
The final image showed a gleaming, pale mirror. Zhuge Liang leaned forward, trying to figure out the material.
"It reflects light like polished silver," he murmured, uncertain. "But the density feels wrong."
He studied the image for a long moment.
"Not silver. Not bronze. Something else."
Pang Tong raised an eyebrow. "Any guesses?"
"Not yet."
Zhuge Liang sat back.
"Let's wait. the future descendant will figure it out."
[Server Chat Log]
[Book is cheap: Bro, you need to stop. Traditional sugar painting is supposed to be an intangible cultural heritage. But looking at your absolute disaster of an art piece, we can definitely drop the 'cultural heritage' part. It's just intangible.
crispy_noodle_88: The candied hawthorns look decent. Pretty foolproof recipe. I read somewhere that eating hawthorn actually helps lower blood pressure. Why didn't Cao Cao just force his whole stressed-out family to eat these?
wandering_teapot: Because ancient hawthorns tasted like concentrated hatred.
crispy_noodle_88: That's not a scientific unit.
wandering_teapot: Who care !!!!.
history_fan_2025: He's actually right. Modern hawthorns have been selectively bred for generations to taste good. Ancient wild hawthorns were aggressively sour. Nobody touched them until the Song Dynasty figured out how to fry them in rock sugar. Once they became a street food trend, physicians finally studied the fruit and realized it had medical benefits.
lazy_morning_glory: I know nothing about calligraphy, but I'll offer my expert opinion anyway. Nice handwriting.
thunder_robin: I know nothing about ancient artifacts, but I'll also offer my expert opinion. Nice silver mirror.
moonlit_pavilion: The guy above me is clueless. Silver mirrors don't cast reflections like that. Based on the luster and oxidation pattern, there's a ninety-nine percent chance that's a bronze mirror.
Tree_ Is wild: Oxidation doesn't rewrite the periodic table.
summer_breeze_42: Are you blind? Bronze is yellow. Why is this thing completely white? Even if it was artificially aged, it would be covered in green copper rust. What kind of metal is this?
old_scholar_cat: Wait, this sparked my memory. Is this Paktong? White copper? The copper-nickel alloy from Yunnan? That's one of the most significant metallurgical achievements of our ancient ancestors!
frozen_river_dawn: Oh wow, you're right! Considering our anonymous friend loves sending high-end replicas, this makes perfect sense. A white copper mirror in the Tang Dynasty was essentially priceless. Only officials ranked grade-one or higher could legally own them. Plus, the mythical beast and grape vine motifs on the back are classic Early Tang design.
drifting_snowflake: I just looked it up. This stuff was exclusively mined and smelted in Yunnan and Sichuan. By the 17th century, they were exporting a copper-nickel-zinc alloy to Europe. The Europeans went crazy for it and called it 'Chinese Silver.' Unfortunately, by the 19th century, British and Swedish engineers reverse-engineered the formula and squeezed China out of the global market.
silent_thunder_99: Well, obviously. Massive mechanized assembly lines will always crush small artisan workshops.
autumn_maple_leaf : Wait, I remember my geography textbook. The province with the highest natural nickel deposits is Gansu, right? And Gansu has massive copper mines too. So why was this alloy invented down in Yunnan instead?
dusty_caravan: Because Yunnan had fewer wars. Gansu has nickel, copper, coal, lithium, gold, zinc, aluminum. It's an industrial goldmine. But that region was a constant warzone for centuries. You can't build heavy industry when cavalry armies keep burning down your infrastructure.
fisherman_at_dusk: Exactly. The whole Hexi Corridor was a meat grinder. Look at salt. The salt from Qinghai Lake is way better than the bitter salt made with traditional methods. But during the Tang, Qinghai was the frontline against Tibet, so nobody could safely mine it. The Yuan ignored it. The Song was too busy getting invaded. The Ming couldn't secure logistics. It wasn't until the Qing fully stabilized the region that industrial salt mining actually began.
city_lantern_glow: Modern people understand how amazing the fruits, beef, mutton, and cotton from the Western Regions are. But to harvest them safely, you need a powerful, unified nation backing you up.]
"Binary alloy..."
Zhuge Liang whispered the foreign term, his mind racing.
With his terrifying memory, he recalled that this was the first time the broadcast had used the word 'alloy' in a technical context. Months ago, a comment had joked about a late Tang faction being 'as solid as a titanium alloy.' He hadn't understood it then. Now, the puzzle pieces were clicking into place.
Mixing different metals together could create a new material with better properties?
It was a fascinating idea. But Zhuge Liang immediately recognized the real bottleneck. Coal quality.
They didn't have scientific instruments to measure temperature precisely. But any master blacksmith could estimate a forge's heat by timing how long it took to melt a standard piece of pig iron.
Right now, the state-owned smithies in Chengdu and Gong'an were using advanced bellows, modified blast furnaces, and raw coal. They were pushing temperatures higher than ever before.
But there was a fatal inconsistency. Even with the same iron ore, the same furnace, and the same airflow, the final steel quality varied wildly depending on the type of coal.
Burning pure, smokeless anthracite produced the razor-sharp steel used for Guan Yu's Crescent Blade.
Burning cheap, smoky bituminous coal produced brittle, garbage-tier weapons that shattered against rocks. The difference was huge.
A new theory formed in Zhuge Liang's mind. If low-quality coal gave low-quality iron, what if they added other minerals into the crucible during smelting? Could impurities actually help?
As for turning cheap coal into premium coal, he and his craftsmen hadn't found a solution yet.
But Zhuge Liang was alone in his metallurgical thoughts. The rest of the war room had completely different priorities.
Liu Ba was already calculating numbers. If they minted coins from this 'white copper,' would it stabilize inflation or just bankrupt the treasury before they struck the first coin?
Pang Tong was staring at the wall map with obvious territorial hunger. The Hexi Corridor wasn't just a trade route anymore. It was a treasure trove of industrial wealth. The Han absolutely needed to conquer it.
Zhang Fei's motivation was much simpler.
"Zilong!" Zhang Fei boomed, grabbing Zhao Yun's shoulder. "Where exactly did you say those sour mountain berries grow? Show me on the map."
He grinned.
"I still have half a jar of that premium future sugar. I'm going to make you some candied hawthorns!"