Although he held the rank of a military general, Hou Junji was fundamentally a staff officer. His actual combat experience commanding an army on the front lines? Precisely zero.
Yet, as he stared at the light screen and imagine standing in Geshu Han's shoes, a chilling realization washed over him.
No matter which tactical route he calculated, every single path ended at a wall of certain death.
There was technically one scenario where Geshu Han could have survived. That scenario required marching out of the fortress, finding the rebel commander Cui Qianyou kneeling by the side of the dirt road, and personally present his own head.
Obviously, military reality did not operate on pure fantasy.
In that fleeting moment of tactical despair, Hou Junji experienced something close to a spiritual awakening.
"…It's still better to be us."
He turned his gaze toward the sovereign standing at the front of the hall.
Serving this specific Emperor was the greatest blessing of his life.
From the early days fighting in the Prince of Qin's mansion to his current elevated status, Hou Junji had enjoyed a remarkably smooth career. He had never once tasted the bitter poison of a monarch's lethal paranoia. He had never been forced into a suicidal battle purely to satisfy the political plotting of a corrupt colleague.
Looking at it from a different angle, his own future historical achievement of annihilating the Kingdom of Gaochang was practically a gift. It was a golden opportunity handed down from His Majesty.
A wave of intense, dizzying relief flooded Hou Junji's chest. So what if these future commanders were peerless tactical gods?
So what if they could shatter armies with a flick of their wrists?
None of their martial brilliance mattered because they were serving a paranoid coward. Hou Junji, on the other hand, was serving the Eternal Emperor.
The military minds of the future must look back at the Zhenguan era with helpless envy.
He could only wonder about the fate of his own descendants.
When the An Lushan Rebellion tore the empire apart a century from now, where would the Hou family be? Surely, the political capital and hereditary glory he was building right now would not be exhausted within a mere hundred years.
Unaware of his general's internal victory lap, Li Shimin stood still. He took three long, measured breaths, forcing the roaring inferno of his anger back down into his chest.
He needed to face an ugly truth. The family traditions of the Li-Tang clan need a serious correction.
Lacking administrative competence was a minor flaw. Lacking basic courage and accountability was a fatal disease that would drown millions of innocent commoners in blood.
The petty, cowardly calculations spinning inside Li Longji's head were painfully obvious to Li Shimin. Why did the future emperor refuse to warn the civil officials and the citizens of Chang'an before fleeing? The answer was sickening.
Li Longji used his own capital city as human bait. He left them behind to distract the rebel army, trading the lives of his subjects for a few extra miles of distance on his escape route.
Meanwhile, in Chengdu, the Late Han Dynasty
"This Li Longji stood before his court three separate times and swore he'd personally lead the charge. Three times." Fa Zheng let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "You know what actually happened? Three of his best generals got shoved into an early grave. That's it. That's the result. Perfect track record."
Fa Zheng scoffed loudly, his face contorted into a mask of mockery. "At this point, I'm genuinely struggling to figure out who the real traitor is. An Lushan is rebelling, sure, but Li Longji is out here deleting his own commanders faster than the enemy can. The rebels don't even need to fight. They can just sit back and let the Emperor finish the job for them."
Zhang Fei shook his head heavily, his booming voice tinged with a rare, somber wisdom.
"To the commoners bleeding in the mud, An Lushan is a butcher, and Li Longji is a thief. What is the difference between them? One snatches your life, and the other digs up the roots of your home."
Turning his massive frame, Zhang Fei looked toward Zhuge Liang. "Kongming, this collapse at Tongguan Pass validates your earlier observation. The greatest fortresses crumble from the inside out."
Zhuge Liang nodded slowly, his feathered fan resting motionless against his chest.
"Attacking a fortified city is the lowest form of warfare. Attacking the mind of the enemy is the best strategy," Kongming stated, his tone carrying the weight of a seasoned academic.
"However, watching a global superpower hollow itself out through internal paranoia is a tragedy of the highest order. One can pray for an enemy to make such blunders, but one can never plan for it."
He had deciphered the psychological warfare lessons presented by the divine lightscreen.
Standing nearby, Zhao Yun let out a heavy sigh, his mind fixed on the military cost. "Eighty thousand hardened frontier sons. Betrayed by their own court and buried in a single valley. It is a criminal waste of warrior virtue."
"You are mourning too early, Zilong," Kongming replied softly, a look of melancholy washing over his handsome features.
"This is just the beginning of the nightmare. This marks the first time in a century that the imperial capital has fallen. The psychological momentum of the war has inverted."
Kongming gestured toward the glowing sky. "The era where Han and nomad warriors fought shoulder to shoulder for a unified Tang is dead. The Great Tang will not know peace until it has bled itself dry."
A cold shiver rippled through the assembled officials of the Chengdu provincial office.
[Lightscreen]
[The fall of Chang'an completely destroyed any chance of ending the An Lushan Rebellion quickly.
The strategic board didn't just tip. It flipped over completely.
Chang'an was not merely the Tang capital. It was the economic heart of the empire and the center of the Silk Road, with enormous granaries, vast reserves of wealth, and supplies gathered over generations. Once An Lushan's exhausted army captured the city, they immediately replenished their manpower, food, and morale.
More importantly, for the first time in nearly a century, the Tang Dynasty had lost its capital. The psychological impact was devastating. The myth of Tang invincibility was shattered.
But while Chang'an was getting sacked, the real turning point was brewing further west: the Mawei Courier Station Mutiny, and frankly speaking, the entire affair was ugly
Here's the thing. An Lushan had launched his entire rebellion under the banner of "eliminating Yang Guozhong." The Chancellor was the target from day one. Everyone knew this. Li Longji knew this.
And Li Longji had already proven he was willing to sacrifice his entire capital, thousands of citizens, and his own civil court as a distraction. So why, in the name of everything logical, did he bring the one man the rebels actually wanted dead along with him on his escape?
The Old Book of Tang drops a fascinating little detail. It says the Emperor fled in a blind panic, no plan, no destination, and just so happened to "bump into" Yang Guozhong and Wei Jiansu at the Yanqiu Gate. How convenient.
So let's read between the lines. First, Li Longji's original plan was simple: run west. An Lushan was coming from the northeast, so west was the obvious direction. No grand strategy. No backup capital. No backup plan. Just survival.
Second, Yanqiu Gate was the western gate connected to the imperial gardens. For Yang Guozhong to be standing there in the middle of the night, at the exact moment the Emperor came fleeing through, could not possibly be coincidence. He'd bribed the eunuchs. He'd tracked Li Longji's every move.
Yang Guozhong understood very well that once the rebels entered Chang'an, he would become the first sacrifice offered to calm public anger, and the Emperor was the only meat shield he had left.
And the direction of their retreat was no accident either.
Yang Guozhong pushed hard for Shu. Why Shu? Because the Yang family built their entire power base there. Yang Guozhong was the Jiedushi of Jiannan, and the previous two governors of the region were his handpicked men. He wasn't just fleeing. He was retreating to his own turf, where the Yang name still carried weight and the local officials still answered to him.
And for Li Longji? The moment their eyes met at that gate, he was probably already calculating how to get rid of him.
Meanwhile, riding in the same miserable convoy, Crown Prince Li Heng was quietly doing the math.
He looked around and realized something important: out of the three thousand imperial guards escorting them, two thousand answered directly to him.
The Li clan tradition could not be ignored. It was time to overthrow dear old dad.
The following day, after arriving at Mawei Courier Station, Li Heng secretly instructed his eunuch Li Fuguo to contact the commander of the imperial guards, Chen Xuanli. Their target? Yang Guozhong.
And here's the kicker: Li Longji himself approved the operation. Silent permission. A subtle nod. The mutiny erupted.
Yang Guozhong and his son were dragged into the mud and hacked to pieces.
Then the soldiers turned their attention to Yang Guifei. Under mounting pressure from the guards, the legendary beauty was forced to hang herself from a pear tree.
Executing Yang Guozhong satisfied the army's political fury and symbolically answered An Lushan's original accusations. The death of Yang Guifei, meanwhile, served a dual purpose: it calmed the furious soldiers, and it sent an unmistakable warning to Li Longji himself.
You're next, Dad. Maybe not today. But soon.
Li Heng originally intended to use the crisis to pressure his father into immediate abdication. However, Chen Xuanli unexpectedly disrupted the plan.
The moment the executions were done, he knelt and swore loyalty to Li Longji. Why? Because Chen Xuanli was an old-school loyalist.
Decades earlier, during the Tanglong Coup, he had personally assisted Li Longji and Princess Taiping in seizing power. Without Li Longji's silent approval, Chen Xuanli would never have cooperated with Li Heng's faction in the first place.
So there they were. Father and son. Blades half-drawn. Standing in the mud. Neither of them wanted to be the guy who started a civil war while An Lushan was already burning the empire down. So they did what any dysfunctional family would do. They compromised.
Li Longji went south to Chengdu with Chen Xuanli's protection.
Li Heng went north to Lingwu with his loyalists. And the moment he got there?
He crowned himself Emperor and graciously promoted his father to Retired Emperor. A title that means nothing. A throne that doesn't exist. A very polite way of saying you've been fired.
Happy retirement, Dad. Enjoy Chengdu ]
A heavy silence settled over Ganlu Hall.
To later generations, the Xuanwu Gate Incident was already history, something Kongming could calmly dissect, or a precedent Li Longji would inherit.
But for the people standing in this hall, the memory of brothers killing brothers and a father being forced from the throne was not some distant tale buried in history books.
It had happened only four years ago.
The atmosphere froze.
None of the ministers dared speak. Heads lowered, eyes fixed on the palace floor, everyone waited for the Emperor's reaction before deciding how they themselves should respond.
Wei Zheng, meanwhile, felt his entire body go cold.
The color drained from his face. Beneath his court robes, his legs weakened uncontrollably, while cold sweat slowly formed across his forehead.
More than anyone present, Wei Zheng understood the problem with his own background.
Before entering Li Shimin's service, he had been the chief adviser to the late Crown Prince Li Jiancheng.
Now, with the light screen openly discussing rebellion, patricide, and the bloody traditions of the Li imperial clan, every sentence felt like a blade pressed against his neck.
His vision blurred.
Just as his body began to sway, a pair of firm hands caught his shoulders and steadied him.
"My good minister," a calm voice spoke beside his ear, "you are meant to be my bronze mirror. I still plan to keep you around for another twenty years. Fainting this easily will not do."
Wei Zheng looked up.
What met his eyes was Li Shimin's composed expression.
The Emperor's voice was calm and steady, carrying a reassuring warmth that slowly dispersed the fear gripping Wei Zheng's chest.
Li Shimin gave his shoulder a light pat before straightening himself once more.
A trace of exhaustion and melancholy passed through his eyes as he let out a quiet sigh.
"In the end, the sins of the fathers fall upon their sons."
Hearing the future describe palace coups as a 'time-honored tradition' shattered any remaining illusions Li Shimin harbored about his legacy.
The karma of the Xuanwu Gate was real, and it was echoing down his bloodline.
Du Ruhui stepped forward and lowered his voice, offering calm and practical reassurance.
"Your Majesty, the future has not yet been decided. There is still time to correct the foundation."
Naturally, Li Shimin understood this better than anyone.
That was precisely why he had gathered the imperial princes and princesses for a private family banquet only days earlier. He was already searching for a way to prevent the same tragedy from repeating itself within the Li clan.
But as the man who had personally engineered the most successful palace coup in Tang history, Li Shimin also understood one brutal truth better than anyone else.
The struggle for supreme power left no room for familial affection.
The only comfort he could find now came from simple calculation.
His current heir, Li Zhi, the future Emperor Gaozong, was still a child barely two years old.
Even if the boy were destined to scheme against his brothers in the future, such ambitions could not emerge overnight. Fifteen years would pass before Li Zhi even reached adulthood, and fifteen years was more than enough time for Li Shimin to construct a stable succession system.
Setting aside thoughts of his own family, Li Shimin once again turned his attention toward Li Longji.
The old Emperor crying helplessly at Mawei Courier Station had not been a mediocre ruler in his youth.
As a young prince, Li Longji had participated in a coup and later dismantled Princess Taiping's enormous political faction. Achieving both required exceptional decisiveness and terrifying political skill.
Which only made the outcome more difficult to understand.
How had a ruler with such iron resolve ended up spending his later years blindly indulging a dangerous frontier warlord like An Lushan?
It defied all logical military and political parameters. Li Shimin could not wrap his mind around the cognitive dissonance.
Shaking his head, the Emperor softly recited a line of future poetry he had heard earlier, the meaning of the words finally clicking into place.
"The young emperor ascends the violet throne in Chang'an, two suns suspended in the sky illuminating the heavens."
"At the very least," Li Shimin muttered to himself, grasping for a silver lining, "they manage to take Chang'an back."
Meanwhile, back in Chengdu during the late Han era, Liu Bei wore a complicated expression.
"This Li imperial family..." he began, then paused, searching for a diplomatic way to describe the sheer volume of bloodshed he had just witnessed. "In terms of warrior spirit, they are... exceptionally vigorous."
Kongming understood what his lord was trying to say.
Recalling the earlier broadcasts about the Zhenguan generals and Li Shimin's inner demons, he gave a thoughtful nod.
"Killing elder brothers. Eliminating younger siblings." Kongming's tone carried a trace of analytical curiosity. "The Li family certainly does not do things by halves."
As Chancellor, he understood the underlying logic of history all too well.
Dynasties inherited not only territory, but methods.
Wang Mang's usurpation became a precedent for the Cao clan. The Sima clan borrowed from the Cao clan in turn.
And because Li Shimin ultimately created the flourishing Zhenguan era, later generations largely forgave the brutality of his rise to power.
That success unintentionally established a dangerous example.
For later Tang princes who were not born as the legitimate eldest son, launching a coup no longer seemed unthinkable. It was simply another path already walked by their illustrious ancestor.
A bloody path, certainly.
But undeniably effective.
A sudden thought flashed through Kongming's mind.
One emperor, one coup?
Thinking back to the political chaos surrounding Empress Dowager Lü during the early Han Dynasty, Kongming was certain that the rise and fall of the future female Emperor of Tang must also have been accompanied by enormous bloodshed.
The more he thought about it, the stranger it became.
If the Tang court was constantly tearing itself apart through internal coups and succession struggles, how had the early Tang Dynasty still managed to project such overwhelming military dominance beyond its borders?
Sensing that the atmosphere surrounding the Tang imperial family had grown increasingly heavy, the Shu Han officials gradually shifted their attention back to the An Lushan Rebellion itself.
"So is An Lushan about to die soon or what?"
"General Guo Ziyi must be in an impossible position right now. Which emperor is he even supposed to obey?"
"Strategically speaking, their immediate priority has to be retaking Chang'an, correct?"
[Lightscreen]
[Even after seizing Chang'an and replenishing themselves through massive looting, An Lushan's rebel forces still faced a serious problem.
They were badly outnumbered on the broader strategic map.
Meanwhile, Li Longji had already retreated deep into Shu. Once he reached Chengdu, the former Emperor was effectively removed from the center of power. At the very least, he could no longer personally interfere with frontline strategy and make the situation even worse.
However, before fully entering retirement, he still managed to leave one final political disaster behind for his son, the newly enthroned Emperor Suzong.
So let us briefly rewind the timeline.
The morning after Li Longji fled Chang'an, a relatively unremarkable mid-ranking official named Fang Guan woke up and discovered that the Emperor had disappeared overnight.
Fang Guan did not spend much time contemplating the collapse of the empire.
He simply packed a few belongings, abandoned his family in the soon-to-be occupied capital, and immediately rushed westward in pursuit of the fleeing court.
Eventually, somewhere near the Jianmen mountain passes, he successfully caught up with the imperial convoy.
By this point, Li Longji had already endured the Mawei Mutiny. Yang Guozhong was dead, Yang Guifei was dead, and the Emperor himself was emotionally exhausted. Worse still, his Chancellor had just been hacked apart by his own guards.
So when Li Longji saw an official who had crossed mountains and battlefields solely to remain loyal to him, the old Emperor was genuinely moved.
With a single decree, Fang Guan was elevated directly to Chancellor of the Great Tang.
Under apocalyptic conditions, political promotions could apparently happen very quickly.
Not long afterward, Li Longji officially received notice from Li Heng informing him that he had been respectfully promoted to the position of Retired Emperor.
Perhaps because his spirit had already been broken, or perhaps because preserving the dynasty mattered more than preserving his pride, Li Longji ultimately accepted the arrangement.
Before settling down in Chengdu, he dispatched Fang Guan and Wei Jiansu northward to Lingwu, essentially sending his son a ready-made administrative team.
After arriving in Lingwu, Wei Jiansu was quickly pushed aside into ceremonial duties with little real authority.
Fang Guan, on the other hand, proved exceptionally skilled at speaking.
His speeches were grand, eloquent, and filled with ambitious strategic theories. The inexperienced Emperor Suzong quickly became fascinated by him.
Delighted to have gained such a "talented" adviser, Li Heng once looked at Fang Guan and praised him openly:
"You are truly my Zhuge Wuhou."
It was an impressive compliment.
And one Emperor Suzong would later regret for the rest of his life.]