Li Shimin left the Bureau of Works inspection in an excellent mood.
Hou Junji, meanwhile, returned to Chang'an thoroughly confused.
Since the first month of the year, he had been operating in the Hexi region under imperial orders, overseeing intelligence gathering and consolidation efforts across the western frontier.
The territory had been under Li Gui's control at the Tang's founding, but that regime had been finished for over a decade now. Major uprisings had not returned, though smaller disturbances kept surfacing. The Tuyuhun still raided the border whenever the mood struck them, while the Dangxiang, who had no love for their old rivals, had chosen to invoke the emperor's name and were angling for imperial backing to deal with their longtime enemy.
Beyond the Hexi Corridor lay the Western Regions, where the situation was considerably more complicated.
The Western Turks held overwhelming influence over the states there. Gaochang, Kucha, Khotan, Kashgar, every one of them sent tribute eastward to Chang'an while taking great care not to offend the Turks, who were far closer and far more immediately dangerous.
Untangling that web required patience and careful judgment.
Hou Junji had approached it methodically, dispatching agents along different routes disguised as silk merchants, caravan traders, and ordinary travelers, each with a specific task and destination.
Then, in the middle of the fourth month, at Lüfu County, he encountered two men he had never expected to find there.
"Xuanzang? Wang Xuance?"
Lüfu County took its name from the Lüfu River that flowed past its mud-brick walls.
According to local tradition, after his great victory over the Xiongnu, the Marquis Huo Qubing had poured a cask of fine wine into the river so that his soldiers could share a drink with him. In memory of that story, the Former Han had named the commandery Jiuquan, Spring of Wine.
Hou Junji had already drafted a memorial recommending that the emperor restore the ancient name.
The proposal served several purposes at once. It aligned with the historical record, honored the legacy of the Champion Marquis, and quietly announced the Tang's ambitions toward the Western Regions without requiring a single explicit statement.
Lüfu County occupied a natural crossroads.
West lay Yumen Pass and Dunhuang.
North lay the Juyan Marshes.
Caravans, officials, pilgrims, merchants, soldiers, and wanderers all passed through sooner or later, making it an ideal place for intelligence work. Hou Junji's agents could disappear into the flow of traffic with ease, blending into merchant caravans and trade expeditions without attracting the slightest attention.
On that particular day, the county magistrate came looking for him.
"A group has arrived from Chang'an, General," the magistrate reported, presenting a document with both hands. "They carry an imperial transit passport bearing His Majesty's personal seal. Would you care to inspect their credentials?"
Forging the Heavenly Khan's personal authorization was not something any sane person would attempt. Still, Hou Junji held the rank of Duke of Liguo and Right Guard Grand General, and procedure was procedure.
Travelers from Chang'an were nothing unusual. Travelers carrying an imperial edict through the frontier gates were another matter entirely.
Hou Junji's thoughts immediately went to one particular name.
"Is there a Buddhist monk among them?"
When the magistrate confirmed there was, and added that the group's leaders were named Xuanzang and Wang Xuance, Hou Junji's interest immediately sharpened.
He had to meet them. There was no question about it.
The meeting itself proved somewhat disappointing.
Xuanzang looked entirely ordinary, possessing the dusty, weathered appearance of any pilgrim who had spent too much time on the road. After Hou Junji introduced himself as the Duke of Liguo and Right Guard Grand General, the monk remained politely indifferent.
No profound praise. No visible admiration. No acknowledgment of Hou Junji's immense stature. Just a calm, detached courtesy that left Hou Junji feeling like he had just introduced himself to a wall.
It was not the reception he had been expecting.
The carefully imagined script in his head, distinguished monk expresses admiration, noble duke graciously accepts it, both exchange memorable remarks destined for future histories, had to be discarded on the spot.
Rude, Hou Junji thought. Very rude. I am a Duke. A Grand General. I conquered things. Does he not know who I am?
Mildly deflated, he turned his attention to the other man.
"Wang Xuance, have you witnessed the spectacle in Ganlu Hall?"
The question came out a little abruptly. Wang Xuance immediately understood what he meant and felt himself caught between several competing obligations. In the end, honesty won.
"I did. Early in the fourth month, together with His Majesty and the assembled dukes."
Hou Junji's attitude toward him improved at once.
"Was I mentioned?"
Oh, very much so. Wang Xuance nodded without hesitation.
Hou Junji leaned forward slightly. "When I came up, what did they say? What were the exact words?"
By they, naturally, he meant the voices from later generations.
Wang Xuance suddenly found himself in a difficult position. He remembered the emperor's quiet warning. He remembered the light screen commentators referring to this particular Grand General as "Old Hou" with the casual familiarity normally reserved for an eccentric neighbor. Most importantly, he remembered the spectacular and historically unprecedented coup Hou Junji would eventually attempt in the original timeline.
How do I tell this man that future generations know him as the guy who tried to overthrow the emperor and failed spectacularly?
Choosing his words with the utmost care, Wang Xuance settled on a version of the truth that contained the essential facts while avoiding everything else.
"The commentary spoke of the Grand General with considerable familiarity," he said, maintaining a perfectly diplomatic expression. "They stated that the military campaigns you will command are unprecedented in the history of warfare."
Hou Junji waited.
Then he continued waiting.
Eventually it became clear that this was the entire answer.
His expression communicated his disappointment quite effectively. A man of his accomplishments. A pillar of the flourishing Tang. A conqueror of kingdoms. And that was the summary?
No detailed praise? No declarations that my name will endure for a thousand years? No enthusiastic comparisons to legendary commanders?
He stared at Wang Xuance, silently willing him to add more.
Wang Xuance stared back, equally unmoving.
The pause grew long enough to become awkward.
Hou Junji finally gave up.
Fine. Keep your secrets. I do not need your validation anyway.
Wang Xuance privately felt he had done everything reasonably possible under the circumstances. He had already pushed his luck far enough. Any more and he might accidentally let slip the part about the treason.
Perhaps out of gratitude for the hospitality. Perhaps out of compassion. Or perhaps because he genuinely felt it needed to be said. Before the group departed, Xuanzang spoke to Hou Junji once.
"Grand General," the monk said softly, though his voice carried an unexpected weight, "take good care of yourself. Learn to govern your own nature."
Then the travelers resumed their journey toward Yumen Pass at an unhurried pace.
Hou Junji stood on the wooden veranda watching them go.
After a long moment, he scratched his head in frustration.
What was that supposed to mean? Learn to govern my own nature? I am perfectly governed, thank you very much. I have governed many things. Kingdoms. Armies. My temper, usually.
He shook his head.
That monk really ought to spend some time in Chang'an and learn how to give a proper blessing. Something like "May the Duke enjoy eternal glory and good health." That was not difficult. Even a child could manage that.
As for Wang Xuance, the man was riding the prestige of a conquest that had not even happened yet and already seemed perfectly comfortable treating him as an equal. Worse, he could not even produce a respectable compliment.
One kingdom, Hou Junji thought bitterly. He has not even conquered it yet, and he already acts like he owns the place.
Hou Junji watched the travelers disappear into the distance and felt a distinct sense of injustice.
Fine.
He straightened his back and set his jaw.
This time, I am not just taking Gaochang. I am taking two more kingdoms on top of it. Let future generations try to ignore that.
Let Wang Xuance try to act superior when I have three kingdoms to my name and he has only one.
To be fair, though, conquering a kingdom and carrying yourself with that much confidence at such a young age was no small accomplishment. He had to admit that much.
The thought lasted only a moment. He shook his head and turned back to his own affairs.
India was far away. Wang Xuance clearly had imperial business beyond simply escorting Xuanzang, and he would likely be gone for years. By the time he returned, Hou Junji intended to have accumulated enough achievements that any comparison between them would settle itself without the need for discussion.
By mid-fifth month, most of Hou Junji's agents had been deployed, and the intelligence picture for Hexi and the Western Regions had finally begun to take shape. For the first time, he possessed a reasonably clear map of the region's political alignments, military strengths, and potential vulnerabilities.
With his preliminary mission complete, he packed his belongings and began the journey back to Chang'an.
The road home brought news of its own.
The destruction of the Eastern Turks the previous year had been a monumental event, and only now were its full consequences becoming visible. Every county in Hexi seemed to be celebrating. The local Han population looked at the neighboring Dangxiang and Jie tribes with noticeably less deference than before. Merchants moved through the markets with a confidence that had not existed a year earlier.
The Hu tribal leaders were quick to respond. "What are you so proud of? He is not only your emperor. He is our Heavenly Khan as well."
Because of that shared allegiance, the frontier was experiencing a degree of stability few could remember. The northern tribes were far too occupied fighting the Xueyantuo over the remnants of the fallen Turkic empire to risk provoking the Tang.
Hou Junji reviewed the intelligence reports during the journey, his attention repeatedly returning to the one glaring exception.
The Tuyuhun.
While the rest of the frontier settled into an uneasy peace, the Tuyuhun continued their border raids as if nothing had changed.
By the time he reached the capital, Hou Junji had already settled on his recommendation. During his next audience, he intended to persuade the emperor to concentrate overwhelming force along the Longyou frontier. The Tuyuhun needed to be dealt with once and for all. Only by eliminating that threat could the Tang fully secure its western flank and open the way for future campaigns into the Western Regions.
He had thought the sequence through carefully.
Any campaign against the Tuyuhun would require a capable vanguard commander. Who was better suited than the man who had just spent months building a comprehensive intelligence picture of the region? After Tuyuhun came Gaochang. That campaign, in Hou Junji's view, already belonged to him. And after Gaochang, a grand expedition into the Western Regions. The progression seemed perfectly logical. With two major conquests added to his record, supreme command would follow naturally.
Throughout the journey, he refined the argument repeatedly, revising draft after draft of his report until every recommendation seemed unassailable.
Yet the moment he rode through the gates of Chang'an, something felt wrong.
The political atmosphere had shifted during his absence. As he moved through the offices of the Three Departments and Six Ministries, he gradually realized that he could not find a single one of his old comrades from the emperor's original inner circle. The veteran officers who had once formed the core of the Qin Prince's household command seemed strangely absent from the daily machinery of government.
The discovery left him uneasy.
The emperor had not even scheduled a formal debriefing session. For a man returning from an intelligence mission of this scale, that was unusual enough to attract notice.
Hou Junji quietly made inquiries through his contacts within the palace and eventually uncovered an even more puzzling piece of information. The elite Qianniu Guards had completely sealed off the vast imperial gardens behind the palace. The entire area was under strict lockdown. No one was permitted through the cordon except select personnel from the Bureau of Works. And no one seemed particularly eager to explain why.
Feeling completely out of the loop, Hou Junji decided to track down Fang Xuanling and find out what was going on.
According to the reports he had gathered, the prime minister had spent most of the past year practically living at the Guozijian. On one front, he was overseeing the research and compilation work for the Book of Jin. On another, he was apparently spending his evenings studying advanced mathematics under the Academy Chancellor.
The moment Hou Junji stepped through the gates of the Imperial Academy, he ran into a crowd of excited students gathered in the central courtyard. They were clustered around a small wooden table, arguing loudly while passing around a thick block of polished glass. Held against the afternoon sun, the glass split the light into bands of vivid color, scattering patches of rainbow across the stone paving.
The students seemed fascinated.
Hou Junji was not. He strode straight past them with the focused urgency of a man who had more important things on his mind.
The sight of the glass only reminded him of an old embarrassment.
Last year, inspired by the sky screen's descriptions, he had enthusiastically petitioned the emperor to sponsor a state-run glassmaking project. The results had been catastrophic. After months of effort, all they had produced was brittle, cloudy slag that was barely useful for anything.
The emperor had removed him from the project soon afterward and handed the entire operation over to the Bureau of Works.
The Bureau's craftsmen had done considerably better. Armed with more detailed information from the sky screen, along with the newly developed process for producing synthetic soda ash, they had achieved a breakthrough within months. The glass was still imperfect and carried visible impurities, but it was unmistakably transparent.
Unfortunately, nobody seemed entirely sure what to do with it. So the Bureau of Works had simply delivered a large crate of samples to the Imperial Academy and instructed the students to experiment with them until someone discovered a practical use.
Hou Junji navigated the academy's corridors in search of Fang Xuanling. As he passed one of the larger lecture halls, raised voices drifted through the thin wooden doors.
"If this is meant to be history," one scholar demanded, "how can you mix folklore and fantastical stories with documented events?"
"We are not inventing the folklore," another argued back. "The accounts already exist. Recording them faithfully allows future readers to judge them against the historical record."
Hou Junji rolled his eyes and kept walking.
Scholars.
No Fang Xuanling.
He retraced his steps, turned down another corridor, and headed for the Academy Chancellor's office instead. After a firm knock, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room looked as though a storm had swept through it. Papers covered every available surface. Stacks of documents occupied tables, chairs, shelves, and sections of the floor. Nearly every page was filled with the strange compact numerals used by later generations.
For a brief moment, Hou Junji wondered whether he had entered the workspace of a mathematician or the lair of a particularly organized madman.
"Chancellor, has Prime Minister Fang been by today?" Hou Junji asked, blinking against the visual clutter.
The elderly chancellor rubbed at his tired eyes. "The prime minister was here all morning reviewing the mathematical ledgers. But he packed up his notes and left around noon."
Another dead end.
Frustrated, Hou Junji left the Academy with nothing to show for the visit. He paused on the steps outside and considered his options.
If the civil officials were nowhere to be found, then perhaps the military commanders could tell him what was going on.
Li Jing. Li Shiji.
According to the revelations from the celestial broadcast months earlier, later generations possessed a terrifying weapon capable of changing the world: gunpowder. Immediately after that revelation, the two famous generals had rounded up dozens of the empire's most respected Daoist alchemists and set them to work unraveling the secrets of explosive compounds.
The project had caused no small amount of controversy. The pair spent so much time frequenting Daoist temples and consulting alchemists that imperial censors eventually submitted formal memorials accusing them of neglecting their military duties. When Hou Junji first read those reports on the frontier, he had laughed so hard he nearly fell off his chair.
Recalling the location of their primary research facility, he guided his horse through the northern districts of Chang'an. When he finally arrived, however, he reined in and stared at the gatehouse in confusion.
"Hold on."
Hou Junji looked up at the plaque before turning to his bodyguard. "Wasn't this place officially called Cangsong Temple last year?"
The bodyguard nodded at once. "It was. Shortly after the New Year, the Duke of Dai personally petitioned the throne to rename the entire compound."
Hou Junji looked back up. A brand-new plaque hung above the entrance. Three bold characters had been carved into the wood with unmistakable confidence.
Five Thunders Temple.
For a moment, Hou Junji simply stared. Then he shook his head. The sheer amount of theatrics involved practically guaranteed Li Jing had something to do with it.
Suppressing a sigh, he headed for the entrance.
He made it three steps before two armored imperial guards crossed their halberds directly in front of him.
"Identify yourself, General," the lead guard said evenly. "You must also surrender all fire-starting equipment before entering."
Hou Junji blinked.
The guard pointed toward a large wooden sign beside the checkpoint. The warning had been written in enormous, uncompromising characters:
Anyone caught introducing unauthorized ignition sources into the Five Thunders Temple shall be executed immediately.
Below it sat a familiar signature.
Li Shimin.
Personally.
Hou Junji stared at the sign. Then at the guards. Then back at the sign.
The emperor himself signed this? What in the world are they doing in there?
The emperor's personal endorsement left very little room for negotiation. Without another word, he removed his flint kit, unbuckled the rest of his fire-starting gear, and deposited everything into the collection box.
Only then did the guards step aside.
The interior of the temple was almost unrecognizable. The compound had been completely sealed off from the public. The grand halls that had once housed towering gilded statues of Daoist immortals had been emptied. Every religious icon was gone. In their place stood rows of reinforced storage rooms secured with heavy locks and iron fittings.
Hou Junji slowed his pace as he walked deeper into the compound. Whatever Li Jing and Li Shiji were doing here, they had clearly transformed an ordinary temple into something that looked far more like a military installation than a religious sanctuary.
Hou Junji walked down the central corridor, reading the labels painted on each reinforced door: charcoal, cinnabar, realgar, sulfur, saltpeter, refined cane sugar, orpiment.
The list was immediately familiar. These were standard ingredients in Daoist alchemical practice, materials that for generations had been used in the pursuit of longevity and immortality. Here, however, they had clearly been assigned a different purpose.
As he continued through the compound, Hou Junji gradually pieced together how the operation worked.
The entire facility had been reorganized according to an almost military system of control. The alchemists were no longer free to combine ingredients whenever inspiration struck. Any proposed experiment first had to be written down in an official ledger, detailing the exact formula to be tested. The request was then submitted to the imperial guards, who personally measured out the required materials from the locked storerooms.
The actual mixing took place inside specially constructed chambers designed to contain accidents. Once a preparation was ready, the alchemists were required to withdraw, leaving the final ignition to designated test personnel trained for the task. Every result was carefully recorded, from the color of the flame and the density of the smoke to the volume of the blast and the duration of the reaction.
The whole process felt less like a temple and more like a military workshop disguised as one.
Hou Junji quickly arrived at an uncomfortable conclusion. There was absolutely nothing useful he could contribute here. He understood warfare, logistics, and politics. Chemistry was another matter entirely.
More importantly, neither Li Jing nor Li Shiji appeared to be anywhere in sight.
"The senior commanders are currently at the testing grounds north of the city walls," a young Daoist apprentice explained, keeping a respectful distance from the imposing general. "His Majesty is there as well. They are conducting a demonstration."
Before Hou Junji could ask for directions, a deafening roar erupted somewhere beyond the main hall. The ground shuddered beneath his feet. Roof tiles rattled overhead, and a thick column of black smoke rose into the sky behind the temple buildings.
Hou Junji turned instinctively toward the source of the explosion.
The apprentice did not even flinch. Instead, his face lit up with pure delight. He slapped his thighs and laughed so hard that he nearly doubled over.
"Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent!" he shouted, pointing excitedly toward the smoke. "Senior Brother Songcheng has finally achieved enlightenment!"
Hou Junji stared at the smoke. Then he looked at the apprentice. Then he looked back at the smoke again.
At this point, he thought, I am beginning to suspect that everyone in Chang'an has collectively lost their minds while I was away. And no one thought to inform me.