[Lightscreen]
[From the Tang dynasty onward, the story of Xue Rengui pacifying Tianshan with three arrows has been sung by countless generations.
It was unquestionably a major victory. However, if you examine the full operational picture, you are forced to place a very large asterisk next to this triumph.
Now, let us break down what actually happened, because the legend is not the whole story.
After shattering the enemy coalition at the foot of the Tianshan Mountains, Xue Rengui faced a simple arithmetic problem. His Tang forces were badly outnumbered by the surrendered Tiele warriors. He needed to pursue the scattered remnants, but dragging tens of thousands of prisoners along for the chase was logistically impossible.
So Xue Rengui ran the calculation and made a decision.
He ordered the surrendered prisoners buried alive.
Then he resumed the pursuit.
Here is the thing. He feared the prisoners would rebel. That is a valid concern. But look at the context. The Tiele had just watched three of their greatest warriors fall to three arrows. They were terrified. They were not preparing an uprising. They were trying to stay very, very still and hope nobody noticed them.
Xue Rengui did not need to bury them alive. He could have disarmed them, dispersed them, or marched them to the rear under guard.
Instead, he chose mass execution.
Why?
Because it was easier.
Because he was in a hurry.
Because he valued speed over restraint.
And then he allowed his soldiers to loot and kidnap. He looked the other way because a share of the plunder found its way into his own tent.
That is not the behavior of a commander.
That is the behavior of a bandit chief.
When the army returned to the capital, the imperial censors were waiting. They demanded his punishment for massacring surrendered enemies and permitting widespread military misconduct.
Emperor Li Zhi reviewed the paperwork and issued what might be described as a supremely corporate ruling: Xue Rengui's battlefield merits precisely canceled out his war crimes. Zero punishments, zero rewards.
That is not justice. That is accounting.]
A heavy silence settled over Ganlu Hall.
Even Yuchi Jingde, who normally approached military matters with straightforward practicality, frowned.
"Burying surrendered men alive... That is too much."
Qin Shubao nodded in agreement. "Once word spreads, every tribe on the frontier will believe surrender means death. They will fight like cornered wolves. How many more soldiers will die because of that?"
Li Ji folded his hands into his sleeves. "The problem is not merely the killing. A commander who loses control of his army after victory is inviting disaster. Looting, kidnapping, private plunder... if those habits become common, the frontier will never know peace."
Fang Xuanling sighed. "The empire spends years building trust with these tribes. A single massacre can destroy all of it."
Du Ruhui nodded. "The cost of rebuilding that trust may exceed the value of the victory itself."
Su Dingfang finally spoke. "If I feared rebellion from surrendered troops, I would separate the leaders, confiscate the weapons, and scatter the men under guard." He paused. "Killing them all is certainly simpler. But simple solutions are often the most expensive."
Li Shimin glanced at him with approval. "Dingfang understands."
Then he looked around the hall. "War is fought for the state. Victory is also for the state. If winning one battle creates ten future enemies, then that victory is incomplete."
The ministers bowed slightly. "Your Majesty is wise."
The conversation, however, had an unintended effect on one person.
Hou Junji was growing increasingly uncomfortable. The entire discussion had become a lecture on exactly the sort of behavior for which history had already promised to arrest him. He felt like a man sitting in a chair made of nails, acutely aware that every word spoken could apply to him.
He felt the emperor's gaze pass over him for a brief moment. Hou Junji immediately lowered his head and stared at the floor with such concentration that one might have assumed he was attempting to memorize the grain pattern.
Li Shimin almost laughed. The man had not even done anything yet and already looked guilty.
Before he could say anything, Zhangsun Wuji quietly stepped sideways, increasing the distance between himself and Hou Junji by another pace.
Hou Junji noticed. "...Wuji, is that necessary?"
Zhangsun Wuji did not even look at him. "Very."
A few ministers coughed into their sleeves. Even Li Shimin's mood lightened slightly.
Li Shimin turned his attention back to the more immediate concern: Xue Rengui.
"When we locate this Xue Li, Yaoshi, I need you to personally supervise his education. The boy requires serious work."
Three arrows to pacify Tianshan was genuine martial brilliance.
But the fact that three arrows caused a hundred thousand men to collapse on the spot proved the coalition was an illusion.
They were not soldiers with a will to fight.
They were frightened people who had been holding together through borrowed courage. Under those conditions, ordering a mass execution was not ruthlessness.
It was geopolitically self-defeating behavior.
Li Shimin thought about the recent campaigns the screen had described. When the Tang hunted Little Lu, they deployed thirty thousand Tang regulars alongside fifty thousand allied Uyghur cavalry. The auxiliary force outnumbered the core troops significantly. Nobody in the command structure panicked about the Uyghurs switching sides mid-campaign.
Wang Xuance had walked into a foreign country with a handful of bodyguards, drafted thousands of local warriors he had never met, and conquered a kingdom.
He never once showed signs of worrying that his drafted soldiers might turn on him.
Yet Xue Rengui had resorted to paranoid mass murder and allowed his troops to conduct themselves as bandits.
He had used every available method to permanently poison the Tang's reputation among the border peoples.
The future descendant was right. It was a shameful campaign.
Li Shimin rubbed his temples and privately hoped the next generation of Tang commanders would prove more capable of thinking beyond the next battle.
[Lightscreen]
[Now, let us talk about Zheng Rentai. Because this man deserves his own chapter in the Hall of Shame.
Regardless of the controversy, Xue Rengui's performance at Tianshan was undeniably legendary. It completely eclipsed his commanding officer.
Zheng Rentai, the actual supreme commander of the expedition, watched his deputy collect all the glory and felt it in a specific way. He became desperate to produce his own historical moment.
After the Tianshan victory, the Tang army split into independent columns to maximize their operational reach.
The Tianshan range where Xue Rengui made his name is located in what is now the Khangai Mountains of Mongolia, roughly four thousand li from Chang'an.
As supreme commander, Zheng Rentai controlled the bulk of the military assets. He led his main force northeast to hunt down the scattered remnants.
Now, here is where things get interesting.
Word of the Tianshan slaughter had already spread across the steppe like wildfire. When the northeastern Tiele tribes saw Zheng Rentai's banners on the horizon, they dropped their weapons and offered unconditional surrender immediately.
This was supposed to be the easy part. The campaign was over. All he had to do was accept the surrender, march home, and collect his credit.
Instead, he rejected the peace offering entirely.
Perhaps Zheng Rentai had seen how Xue Rengui profited from illegal looting and wanted a share. Perhaps he decided that accepting peaceful surrenders would not generate enough military credit to outshine his deputy. Whatever the internal logic, he made a decision that would define his legacy.
He ordered his army to pillage the submitting tribes. The terrified Tiele civilians scattered into the wilderness and ran.
Then his scouts brought him a rumor. Several extremely wealthy Tiele tribes had fled further north. Enormous herds. Countless women. Substantial treasure.
Zheng Rentai barely paused to assess the intelligence. He fractured his army again. He left his heavy infantry and supply trains in a fortified camp. He personally selected fourteen thousand elite light cavalry and rode north.
To maximize speed, he issued an order that would define his legacy. He told his cavalry to strip off their heavy armor and carry minimum rations. Travel light, strike fast.
His reasoning was straightforward: the Tiele were completely terrified of the Tang military. They would break on contact. Once his cavalry reached the wealthy northern tribes, they would eat the captured livestock and wear the captured furs. Logistics were irrelevant when victory was guaranteed.
It was a spectacular demonstration of military delusion.
Under Zheng Rentai's command, this strike force pushed north for over thirteen hundred li. They crossed the Gobi Desert. They pushed all the way to the frozen shores of Lake Baikal.
And they found absolutely nothing.
Let me repeat that. He marched thirteen hundred li across the desert. He stripped his men of armor and supplies. He ignored the changing seasons. He chased a rumor into the frozen north.
And there was nothing there.
Looking at empty saddlebags and starving men, Zheng Rentai finally ordered the retreat.
But the timeline had caught up with him. The Tianshan range was four thousand li from Chang'an. Factor in the march, the initial battle, and Zheng Rentai's greed-fueled sprint to Siberia, and the seasons had moved. Winter had arrived.
Tang cavalrymen were the most feared human opponents on any battlefield. Against a Siberian winter, they were meat.
A massive blizzard hit the retreating column. Stripped of their armor and running on empty rations, in temperatures that turned the world white and deadly, the army began to dissolve.
First the soldiers discarded their weapons. Steel was useless against wind. Then, driven past the point of rational decision-making by starvation, they killed and ate their warhorses.
And when the horses were gone, the historical record uses four words: "Men starved, eating each other."
Let me repeat that. The official history of the Tang dynasty records that Zheng Rentai's men, driven by hunger, ate each other.
Zheng Rentai had marched out with fourteen thousand elite riders. He came back with roughly seven hundred survivors.
That is a loss of thirteen thousand three hundred of the deadliest cavalrymen in the world. Not on the battlefield. Not fighting a superior enemy. They died because their commanding officer was greedy, stupid, and refused to admit he was wrong.
When the imperial censors drafted the impeachment papers, they accurately described this as the single most catastrophic military failure since the dynasty's founding.
Emperor Li Zhi reviewed the case and applied the same ruling he had given Xue Rengui. No rewards, no punishments. He cited Zheng Rentai's loyalty and his service during the Xuanwu Gate incident.
One year later, Zheng Rentai died of illness in a government hostel in Liangzhou. He was granted burial near Emperor Li Shimin's Zhao Mausoleum.
So, what do we learn from this?
First, loyalty does not excuse incompetence. Zheng Rentai got a pass because he was an old friend. But his old friends were not the ones freezing to death in Siberia.
Second, a commander who cannot read a weather pattern or verify intelligence has no business leading troops. Zheng Rentai violated every basic principle of warfare: blind pursuit, no verified intelligence, no attention to climate conditions, no forward scouting screen, insufficient logistics.
And third, this is not an isolated incident. This is a symptom of a larger problem. The Tang military system was producing brilliant warriors like Xue Rengui. But it was also producing disasters like Zheng Rentai. And without proper accountability, the disasters would keep happening.]
Li Shimin opened his mouth.
Closed it.
He genuinely did not have the vocabulary organized for what he was currently experiencing.
He turned slowly to look at Du Ruhui, with the expression of a man who wants to ask whether it was legally possible to revoke a ducal title he had just bestowed on someone earlier that same year.
Zheng Rentai was core inner circle. He was trusted. Li Shimin had genuinely considered major promotions and critical field assignments for this man.
That trust had always been calibrated, though. Li Shimin understood exactly what Zheng Rentai was: a loyal and capable brawler, not a strategic architect. That was why Zheng Rentai's name had not appeared during the grand western conquests. The campaigns required a different kind of mind. Li Shimin had not been surprised by the absence.
When the narrator first mentioned Zheng Rentai leading the Uyghur suppression, Li Shimin had felt a flicker of warmth. His son remembering the old guard and giving them straightforward assignments to strengthen their records. That was good judgment.
The Uyghur rebellion was disorganized and strategically hollow. It was military credit on a plate. Any officer following basic doctrine could have marched in, accepted the surrenders, and marched home a hero.
How did Zheng Rentai take a guaranteed win and produce thirteen thousand dead soldiers, a documented cannibalism incident, and a dynasty-level scandal?
A cold realization landed on Li Shimin. He became suddenly and specifically grateful that he had kept Zheng Rentai on a tight operational leash during Xuanwu Gate. If he had assigned him a critical objective that night, the Tang dynasty might have ended in a side alley before it properly began.
He set that thought aside and started the arithmetic.
"According to the screen's records," Li Shimin said, his voice carrying a quality that made the pillars feel slightly nervous, "from the destruction of the Eastern Turks to the capture of Little Lu, we eliminated multiple sovereign nations and expanded the borders by ten thousand li. The total Tang casualties across all those western campaigns combined does not approach this number."
Thirteen thousand elite light cavalry. Not lost to an enemy army. Lost to the administrative incompetence and unchecked greed of one man.
Beneath the anger, a colder anxiety was running underneath. If a Tang general could convert a simple suppression mission into a documented disaster of this scale, the military structure had a structural problem.
On the edge of the room, Zhangsun Wuji drifted quietly across the floor until he was standing directly beside Hou Junji.
"Zheng Guang is not here today," Zhangsun Wuji murmured, using Zheng Rentai's birth name. "Does the Duke of Liguo feel any regret that his old friend missed this particular broadcast?"
During the Xuanwu Gate planning, Zhangsun Wuji and Hou Junji had been the primary architects. Both of them knew the psychological profile of every conspirator who had been involved.
"Regret? Absolutely not." Hou Junji's eyes moved around the room in a rapid survey pattern.
He definitely felt a small, specific regret that his old drinking companion was not present to absorb some of the ambient imperial heat. He would rather confess actual treason than admit this out loud.
Zhangsun Wuji's round face expressed polite, surgical disbelief. He offered a smile with no warmth in it and glided back to his position.
The death toll had drained whatever was left of the celebratory atmosphere. The hall felt heavy.
Li Jing broke the silence. His voice was measured and direct.
"Perhaps..."
He paused, assembling the proposal carefully before releasing it.
"When Your Majesty formalized the civil examination to select scholars, perhaps we should simultaneously establish a military examination system."
The idea had been developing in his mind for months. The disaster on the screen had just handed him the perfect moment to raise it.
"This Uyghur rebellion was structurally weak," Li Jing continued. "A remarkably mediocre commander following basic doctrine would have secured a total victory without losing meaningful numbers. Producing a defeat of this scale requires active effort."
Li Shimin nodded. The logic was clean.
Zheng Rentai had violated elementary principles: blind pursuit without verified intelligence, no attention to climate conditions, no forward scouting screen, insufficient logistics for the operational distance. Calling him a commanding officer was a courtesy the historical record did not require.
Seeing the emperor's agreement, Li Jing pressed forward.
"When the objective is destroying a peer-level power, expanding the borders, and eliminating a hostile nation permanently, the court must deploy specific talents." He gestured toward the younger commanders. "Using two hundred riders to break the Xueyantuo. Leading five hundred to shatter a command structure. These men are Your Majesty's true weapons. They are the Wei Qing and Huo Qubing of this era."
Li Ji and Su Dingfang both straightened visibly. They kept their faces neutral with considerable effort. Internally, neither man was doing anything close to neutral.
"However," Li Jing's tone cooled, "when dealing with minor border uprisings, we must recognize what they actually are. The rebels lack the capacity or the ambition to march on Chang'an. They are making a calculated gamble based on geographical distance and the hope that the court is too occupied to respond decisively. These rebellions are structurally destined to fail. Any commander following fundamental doctrine will secure victory with minimal losses."
He bowed formally. "Therefore, a military examination. Ensure that only men who genuinely understand the mechanics of war are permitted to command troops. Never again should thirteen thousand lives be thrown away by someone who cannot read a weather pattern or verify intelligence."
Li Shimin's expression shifted.
"Brilliant."
The specific curriculum and testing methods required debate, but the foundational principle was correct.
Xue Rengui was the system's current problem in miniature. Raw talent so exceptional it was almost uncomfortable to look at, wrapped around command decisions that made the eyes twitch. Slaughtering prisoners. Endorsing mass looting. The man needed standardized professional development immediately.
Fang Xuanling stroked his beard thoughtfully.
"The civil examinations identify men who can govern. A military examination could identify men who understand logistics, terrain, and command. The principle is sound."
Du Ruhui nodded.
"At the very least, it should filter out disasters."
A few ministers coughed into their sleeves. The comment was not subtle. Everyone in the hall thought briefly of Zheng Rentai. Li Shimin thought of him for considerably longer.
He had once believed military talent could be identified through campaign experience alone. Men fought, distinguished themselves, and rose naturally. The screen was proving that this process had flaws large enough to bury thirteen thousand cavalrymen.
"Military examinations..." he repeated quietly.
Li Jing stepped forward.
"The empire already tests scholars on the classics. Why should commanders not be tested on maps, supply calculations, military law, weather, and historical campaigns?"
His gaze swept across the hall.
"A man who cannot estimate marching speed should not command an army. A man who cannot maintain discipline should not command an army. A man who cannot distinguish victory from disaster should not command an army."
Yuchi Jingde shifted uncomfortably. He had never taken an examination in his life. Neither had Qin Shubao. Neither had half the generals in the room.
Li Jing noticed the expressions and added calmly, "This proposal concerns future generations."
Several shoulders relaxed.
Li Ji, meanwhile, was looking increasingly pleased. An examination system favored men like him. He had spent years studying military texts and campaign records. If command appointments became partially meritocratic rather than entirely dependent on noble birth and personal connections, his position only strengthened.
Su Dingfang was having a different reaction. He had spent decades waiting for opportunities because nobody noticed him. An examination system meant men like his younger self might not need to wait until their fifties. The thought was surprisingly appealing.
Li Shimin looked around the hall.
"Very well. The matter will be discussed further."
He paused.
"Though I suspect some of our current commanders would not appreciate being examined."
At once, several generals became intensely interested in the ceiling. Yuchi Jingde folded his arms and stared upward. Qin Shubao studied a pillar. Hou Junji looked at the floor.
The emperor nearly laughed.
Then his expression gradually turned serious again.
"The screen has shown us too many examples." He looked toward the glowing projection. "Talent without character is dangerous. Character without ability is equally dangerous."
His gaze settled briefly on Li Ji and Su Dingfang.
"To command an army, a man requires both."
---
Inside the Chengdu government office, the atmosphere had grown noticeably quieter.
The jar of peanuts still sat in the center of the table, but no one was reaching for it anymore.
Zhang Fei shook his head with the specific energy of a man who had arrived at a cosmological conclusion.
"The Tang is simply cursed. The heavens could not stand watching them win, so they dropped a blizzard on their heads."
Liu Bei rejected this immediately.
"The heavens had absolutely nothing to do with this. This was a man-made disaster from start to finish."
He spoke with complete conviction. A moment later, however, he glanced discreetly at the ceiling and offered a brief, private prayer asking the heavens not to take offense and disconnect the light screen.
Zhuge Liang pretended not to notice.
"Our lord is entirely correct. This is a human failure."
He tapped his fan lightly against his palm, his gaze fixed on the fading map.
"When the Tang was founded, they were surrounded by genuine existential threats. The emperor possessed strategic vision equal to the scale of those challenges. The generals had been forged in wars where mistakes killed you. The soldiers fought with the understanding that defeat meant death or slavery."
His eyes moved to the names appearing on the screen.
"Look at the newer generation. They have grown up in an empire so powerful that no neighboring state can truly threaten its existence. Victory has become an expectation rather than an achievement."
He paused.
"That is dangerous."
Fa Zheng nodded in agreement.
"When men begin to believe victory is inevitable, they stop respecting the details that make victory possible."
He picked up a peanut and rolled it between his fingers.
"One commander pursues too aggressively because he assumes the enemy is already broken. Another allows discipline to collapse because the campaign seems easy. A third treats military operations as an opportunity to enrich himself."
He set the peanut back into the jar.
"In an age of survival, those mistakes would be unthinkable. Prosperity makes people careless."
Liu Bei let out a soft sigh.
"The irony is difficult to ignore. The Tang's victories created the conditions that allowed these failures to happen."
Zhang Fei frowned.
"So they won too much?"
"In a manner of speaking," Zhuge Liang replied.
Zhang Fei looked deeply dissatisfied with the answer.
"I do not like that lesson."
"Neither do I."
Zhuge Liang looked back at the screen.
"The hardest task for a great dynasty is not conquering the world. It is remembering why it had to fight so hard to conquer it in the first place."
Fa Zheng broke the lull.
"That military examination idea is not bad."
Zhuge Liang nodded.
"It cannot guarantee the appearance of another Wei Qing or Huo Qubing, but it can establish a minimum standard. At the very least, it reduces the chances of producing another Zheng Rentai."
Liu Bei smiled faintly.
"Coming from the Han, that sounds almost revolutionary."
"It is also practical," Zhuge Liang said. "The civil examinations select men capable of governing. There is no reason military command should depend entirely on luck and personal recommendation."
A troubled expression suddenly appeared on Zhang Fei's face.
"You mean future generals would have to take examinations?"
Everyone looked at him.
He appeared genuinely alarmed.
"What if the examination is difficult?"
Fa Zheng burst into laughter.
Liu Bei could not suppress a smile either.
Zhuge Liang slowly opened his fan.
"Yide, you need not worry."
Zhang Fei visibly relaxed.
"Because by the standards of future generations, you are already remembered as a legendary commander."
A broad grin spread across Zhang Fei's face.
Then Zhuge Liang continued.
"And because I would never permit you to sit for the written portion."
The room erupted with laughter.
Zhang Fei's grin vanished instantly.
"Kongming, you are so mean!"
Liu Bei laughed so hard that he nearly spilled his tea.
Even Zhuge Liang's shoulders shook with amusement.
For a brief moment, the heavy lessons of the Tang gave way to the comfortable laughter of old friends.
Then the laughter faded.
Zhuge Liang looked up, and the amusement disappeared from his face.
"The light screen has mentioned a catastrophic defeat against Tibet several times already."
He closed his fan.
"I suspect we are finally about to see it."