Ever since that day he saw the sand table, Pang Tong's view of Zhuge Liang had shifted from admiration into something far deeper. Something bordering on awe, or perhaps suspicion dressed up as respect.
It was not just Zhuge Liang either.
Even that ever-smiling Jiang Gongyan would glance at him now and then with a look that seemed to say everything and nothing at once. A look that made Pang Tong feel as though he had walked into a game where everyone else had already read the rulebook three times over.
From summer into autumn, the lands of Jingzhou and Xiangyang entered a rare and almost unnatural calm.
Peace. Real peace. Not the kind that hides a blade behind its back.
The documents passing through Pang Tong's hands painted a clear picture.
Yue Jin had gone completely silent. Losing six thousand troops had clearly taken the wind out of his sails. Either he was licking his wounds in Xiangyang or kneeling somewhere in Xuchang writing a very long apology letter. Any real offensive would have to wait until spring.
As for the four commanderies of Jingzhou, minus that troublesome half of Nan Commandery, they had all slipped neatly into steady development.
The officials previously promoted by the lord and Zhuge Liang had scattered like seeds across the countryside. They carried with them everything they had learned in Gong'an, teaching the peasants how to compost, how to cultivate rice properly, how to coax the land into giving more than it ever had before. The results were visible even without reports. The fields themselves were testimony enough.
Public sentiment was high. Suspiciously high.
Zhang Song had arrived in a rush of excitement and left only after several days, reluctant to go, turning back every few steps as if hoping someone might call him back.
And as the end of October drew near, something subtle began to change.
The flow of people in Gong'an did not increase, yet the air itself seemed to tighten, like the pause before a drumbeat.
Pang Tong noticed it immediately.
The upper ranks under Liu Bei had all grown slightly distracted over the past few days. They spoke less, waited more, as though anticipating something that had not yet arrived.
Jian Yong, usually the very model of composed elegance, had begun walking faster, his steps carrying an urgency he did not bother to hide.
More telling still were the orders passing through Pang Tong's hands.
Jiangling. Guan Yu and Ma Liang to return on the twenty-fourth.
Linju. Zhang Fei to return on the twenty-fourth.
Changsha. Zhao Yun to return on the twenty-fourth.
Everything converged on one day.
'Is this the change Zhuge Liang hinted at'?
Pang Tong said nothing. Outwardly calm, inwardly calculating, he continued his routine as if nothing had changed, working when it was time to work, sleeping when it was time to sleep.
Only on the twenty-third did he turn in unusually early.
He did not know what would happen tomorrow, but he knew one thing very clearly.
He was Pang Tong, famed as the equal of the Wolong.
If Zhuge Liang could stand as the foremost among the lord's strategists, then he, Pang Tong, would not allow his own name to dim beside it.
Before dawn, he rose, dressed, and followed the new public notices by washing with hot water. By the time the sun climbed over the horizon, he had already arrived at the county office.
Something was different.
The familiar compound was now heavily guarded, three steps a post, five steps a sentry. Pang Tong's expression did not change, but his eyes took everything in with calm interest.
In the courtyard stood a tightly sealed cage. As he passed by, he heard faint snoring from within. He paused for half a breath, then moved on, curiosity carefully stored away for later.
At the entrance to the side hall stood Chen Dao himself, personally on guard.
When he saw Pang Tong, the usually stern general forced a slight upward curl at the corner of his mouth.
"Strategist Pang. My lord and the others are already waiting."
The door opened.
The hall, which usually felt spacious, was now filled to the brim.
On the left sat Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, Zhao Yun, Wei Yan, and the rest, arranged in order, their presence alone enough to weigh down the room.
On the right sat Zhuge Liang, Huang Yueying, Jian Yong, Mi Zhu, Ma Liang, Jiang Wan, each pair seated in composed readiness.
Liu Bei sat at the head, relaxed as ever, as though this gathering of nearly every capable figure under his command was nothing more than a casual tea meeting.
Seeing Pang Tong, he waved him over.
"Shiyuan, you are here. Sit."
He pointed to the empty seat beside Zhuge Liang.
Aside from Huang Zhong, who had to remain on garrison duty, this was nearly everyone of rank and ability gathered in one place.
Pang Tong's heart stirred.
He sat down and leaned slightly toward Zhuge Liang, lowering his voice.
"So it begins at last? The campaign for Yizhou?"
Zhuge Liang shook his head.
"Then... a strike to the north? Yue Jin is weakened. A naval assault could break him in one blow."
Zhuge Liang shook his head again.
Pang Tong frowned.
"Then surely not against Marquis Sun, right? Breaking the alliance to attack an ally would be most unwise."
Zhuge Liang continued to shake his head, calm as still water.
"Shiyuan," Liu Bei's voice came, warm with amusement, cutting through Pang Tong's guesses, "just wait."
Pang Tong fell silent.
On the other side, Wei Yan, attending for the first time, sat calmly, eyes closed like Guan Yu, his composure that of a seasoned general. Liu Bei and Zhuge Liang exchanged subtle glances of approval.
Time passed.
Two cups of tea.
Half a plate of dried persimmons.
Pang Tong even reached the point of studying the wood grain on the table, counting its lines just to occupy his mind.
Then suddenly, Liu Bei straightened slightly, his voice carrying unmistakable delight.
"It has finally arrived."
Pang Tong looked up.
And then he froze.
In the empty air before them, something began to unfold.
A luminous screen, spreading slowly like a curtain drawn across the heavens.
'Did someone slip me the wrong mushrooms? Or was it the persimmons? Am I hallucinating right now?'
He rubbed his face hard, blinked, and looked again.
It was still there.
Fully formed now.
Images moved within it.
A voice, completely unfamiliar, echoed directly into his ears.
[Lightscreen]
[Hey hey hey! It is your history content creator, Wen Mang!
Everyone knows the Battle of Yiling. It was the founding war of Shu Han, but in a sense, it was also the war that doomed both Shu Han and Sun Wu.
Lu Xun's seven-hundred-li fire completely burned away the road to the third restoration of the Han. The vital forces of Shu Han were decimated, and Liu Bei died of illness at Baidi City.
Simultaneously, Lu Xun used this merit to ascend the political stage of Sun Wu. From that point on, the political structure of Sun Wu shifted. Ministers dominated the sovereign, and guests became the masters. The increasingly brutal power struggles tolled the death knell for the Eastern Wu!]
Pang Tong's mouth opened, but no words came out.
Beside him, Wei Yan let out a startled yelp, having accidentally yanked a strand of his own beard.
"This... this..."
Pang Tong turned to Liu Bei, then to Zhuge Liang, searching for an explanation.
Both men were completely focused on the screen.
And then Pang Tong noticed something else.
Floating lines of text, drifting across the screen like spirits.
[Server Chat Log]
[@SunQuan_Slayer_99: Here we go again! 😤 Every time Sun Shiwan gets mentioned, I'm satisfied and logging off!
@Strategy_Doomposter: Sigh, it's true… 😔 That defeat at Yiling wiped out ten years of Shu Han elites and mid-tier officers in one go. The newborn kingdom got weaned before it even tasted milk. It was just too hard.
@Fiscal_History_Nerd: Real history was even harder tbh, Uncle Liu went all-in on the Yiling campaign, used Liu Ba's plan… basically fought a war on a loan and lost BIG Economy, people's livelihoods, military—all in the gutter. If the Prime Minister hadn't worked literal miracles, Shu would've collapsed right there!
@Loyalty_Simp: To hell with the world! Third Brother, go avenge your Second Brother! Cold-blooded rulers are as common as mud, but brothers with that kind of loyalty? One in a million! 💯
@Emotional_Wreck: Nooo don't make me cry 😭 Thinking about Lord Guan's death just… hurts more than it should.
@Real_Human_Bean: So what if Uncle Liu didn't win in the end? So what if the restoration failed? History's full of cold winners but it barely has real, flesh-and-blood people like him.
@Hefei_Deliveries: A son should be like Sun Zhongmou! 😎 Brings 100k men to Hefei just to "deliver" heads 💀💀 Who can match him? Two fires: Red Cliffs and Yiling
@Childhood_Trauma_Unlocked: Sigh… when I was little I thought the story ended at Yiling 😭 I couldn't bear to keep watching
@Wuzhang_Grief_Counselor: Watch it anyway! Why not? I wanna see the Prime Minister's Northern Expeditions! Though… I still can't bring myself to watch Wuzhang Plains It's just… all knives and heartbreak 🗡️]
Ma Liang and Jiang Wan were already copying everything down onto Zhuge paper in elegant script.
Pang Tong glanced at the text, then back at the screen.
He could read the words.
Individually, they made sense.
Together, they felt like a storm he could not yet grasp.
Finally, Liu Bei turned to him, thoroughly enjoying the rare sight of Pang Tong looking completely lost.
"Shiyuan, this is a heavenly omen, the Lightscreen. What we see is the world one thousand eight hundred years in the future."
He paused, then added with a smile that reached his eyes.
"And they still call themselves Han."
Pang Tong lowered his head, thinking hard.
Then he looked at Zhuge Liang.
"The rotary waterwheel, the improvements to ironworking, the papermaking, the agricultural methods... all derived from this Lightscreen?"
Zhuge Liang nodded without hesitation.
"Much has been inferred from fragments shown within it."
Pang Tong's chest tightened.
"Huehehehehe.....Zhuge Kongming."
A surge of ambition rose within him like fire catching dry grass.
"Now that we both behold this Lightscreen... I will not lose to you."
---
.
Far away, in Chang'an, within Ganlu Hall, Li Shimin looked at his assembled ministers with undisguised satisfaction.
"Did I not say I would not speak lightly of ghosts and spirits for mere selection?"
He turned to Du Ruhui.
"Keming, what say you now?"