To speak responsibly regarding the matter, Emperor Li Shimin found himself thinking deeply about the revelation on the screen.
The fact that Wang Yifang, a mere Rank Six official, had received his own chapter in the official histories set the Emperor's mind racing.
He began to see the true significance of the imperial academy. Flooding the bureaucracy with men from humble backgrounds could finally break the stranglehold of the great clans, those aristocratic families who had treated government posts like heirlooms for centuries.
He also pondered what truly defined Huaxia civilization.
Was it bloodline?
Or was it the spread of culture and values to the farthest corners of the earth, as Wang Yifang had done on that distant tropical island?
At the same time, the screen had shed some light on General Zhang Liang's eventual downfall. The story left Li Shimin with a complicated mix of pity, anger, and frustration. Zhang Liang had real talent, but he was destroyed by domestic chaos and his own gullibility.
Then the narrator swerved sharply at the very end, and all those philosophical reflections went out the window.
That one sarcastic rhetoric question, aimed directly at him, made Li Shimin want to grab his bow and his sword and find whoever was behind this screen.
What do you mean by "historical irony"?
What exactly are you implying about "fires breaking out in the backyard"?
For the first time since the Light Screen appeared, Li Shimin bitterly resented the thousand-year gap between himself and the uploader. If they were in the same room, he would have loved to introduce this flippant future descendant to three things: the sword of the Tiance Shangjiang, the draw of his composite bow, and the hooves of his warhorse. He wanted to solve this disrespect problem with a personal visit.
And then it struck him. He finally understood why his future self, according to the histories, would sometimes lose his mind and scream about killing that "arrogant country bumpkin" Wei Zheng.
It was this exact feeling. The humiliation of being publicly mocked with no way to strike back.
From Li Shimin's perspective, the video's logic was infuriating. If the topic was Zhang Liang's pathetic domestic failures, then stick to Zhang Liang! Why did the narrator suddenly take a shot at the imperial family?
Breathing heavily, Li Shimin shot a dark look at Wei Zheng.
Wei Zheng had just returned from six grueling months of administrative work in the northern provinces. The journey had exhausted him, so the Emperor had granted him a full month of rest. As a result, Wei Zheng had no idea what had been happening in the secret viewing room lately.
At this moment, the old censor was leaning over, tugging at Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui's sleeves, whispering questions to catch up.
But Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui were masters of political survival.
Sensing the Emperor's gaze sweeping the room, both prime ministers suddenly became fascinated with their blank scrolls. They buried their heads, scribbling furiously as if taking notes from the silent screen, completely ignoring Wei Zheng's whispers.
Li Shimin took a slow, steadying breath and calmed himself. He probably would not lose his temper with Wei Zheng anymore.
Wei Zheng was right when he praised Wang Yifang for being "straightforward." Wei Zheng's criticisms were sharp and hit their mark, but they were never mocking. He still respected the boundary between ruler and minister.
But this future descendant was a different beast entirely. Li Shimin could practically taste the provocation dripping from every syllable. The uploader was clearly baiting him, and he hated that it was working.
But there was nothing Li Shimin could do about it.
He could reach out and touch Wei Zheng. Argue with him, banish him, or reward him. Wei Zheng, for all his stubbornness, was still a Tang subject. He still desired something, even if it was a clean legacy rather than gold.
The future descendant behind the screen desired nothing. When pleased, they offered casual praise. When annoyed, they hurled cutting insults. And the most terrifying thought was that if the Light Screen vanished tomorrow, the only one who would panic would be Li Shimin himself. He had become addicted to the foresight.
As a result, the sprawling Ganlu Hall plunged into a suffocating, awkward silence. Liu Rengui looked lost, while Wei Zheng blinked in confusion.
Out of the corners of their eyes, the ministers watched their Emperor stand up. Li Shimin paced near his couch, two steps left, two steps right. The tension in the room was suffocating.
Finally, Li Shimin stopped, spun around, and delivered a vicious flying kick to an ornate wooden folding screen.
The frame shattered instantly, the pieces scattering across the floor like a defeated army. The screen, which had probably cost more than most officials made in a year, was now just expensive kindling.
Having released some of his pent-up aggression, Li Shimin sat back down heavily. His face was a frozen mask.
Sun Simiao, seated in the corner, remained entirely unruffled by the display.
"Your Majesty," Sun Simiao advised, his voice calm and devoid of fear. "If you are feeling angry, it is much healthier to simply shout and vocalize it. Holding in your rage and allowing it to stagnate will cause severe damage to your internal organs."
Li Shimin turned his head slowly, his jaw tight.
"I! Am! Not! Angry!" he forced out, each word dripping with venom.
Sun Simiao nodded like a man humoring a child. He reached for a piece of charcoal and scribbled something on a scrap of paper.
"Take this prescription," he said smoothly. "Boil it in warm water. Drink one bowl in the morning and one in the evening. In three days, it will clear the stagnant anger from your chest."
Li Shimin snatched the paper. His initial instinct was to crumple it into a tight ball and hurl it across the room. He actually crushed it in his fist. But a second later, logic prevailed. Sun Simiao was a living legend of medicine. You did not ignore his advice.
Scowling, Li Shimin carefully smoothed out the paper, folded it neatly, and tucked it into his sleeve with a loud, theatrical huff.
When the ministers saw the Emperor had shifted from homicidal rage to mere sulking, they finally dared to whisper among themselves again.
Li Ji practically threw himself into a conversation with Su Dingfang, shaking his head with exaggerated sorrow.
"You know, Zhang Liang and I used to be peers in the old days," Li Shiji lamented, making sure his voice carried slightly. "We both surrendered and joined His Majesty around the same time. We survived countless brutal campaigns together just to scrape together a bit of military merit."
Su Dingfang listened, feeling a sharp twinge of envy. Honestly, that was the biggest difference in their career trajectories.
Li Shiji had made his name early with the Wagang rebels, cementing his status as a founding hero. Su Dingfang knew that without the Light Screen's revelations about his future, he would still be rotting in the Kuangdao command, watching peasants play tug-of-war.
Yes, the screen promised he would finally be utilized under Emperor Gaozong. It confirmed that Li Ji would become Prime Minister and claim the final victory over Goguryeo.
But comparing his current stagnation to Li Ji's glory only hardened Su Dingfang's resolve.
He would become a peerless general of the Zhenguan era. Leaving his name in the history books was no longer enough. He swore a silent oath that one day, he would make Li Ji serve under him in a campaign.
Oblivious to his companion's ambitions, Li Ji continued to lament his old colleague.
"The next time I see Zhang Liang at court," Li Shiji declared self-righteously, "I will give him a stern lecture. How can a Grand Duke who governs an entire province fail to manage his own household? Becoming a laughingstock for a thousand years is unacceptable."
From the imperial couch came another loud, angry "Hmph!"
Li Ji froze. He wanted to clarify that he was strictly talking about Zhang Liang and definitely not taking a subtle jab at the imperial family's notoriously messy romantic history. But he wisely calculated that explaining himself would only make him look guiltier. He snapped his mouth shut and stared intently at his own shoes.
Su Dingfang shook his head in quiet amusement. Watching the historical review had made him realize how unpredictable human destinies could be.
Look at Wang Yifang. Guided by the strict moral teachings of a phenomenal mother, he spoke truth to power, lost his career, ended up teaching kids in a village, yet secured a glorious, immortal reputation.
Then look at Zhang Liang. Burdened with an arrogant, unfaithful wife, he fell into the trap of dark magic and fake prophecies, resulting in his execution, the extermination of his family line, and eternal mockery.
A man's historical legacy, it seemed, was not determined solely by his own efforts. The people around him played a crucial role.
Then Su Dingfang's gaze drifted to the nervous, unassuming Liu Rengui. He was genuinely curious.
They were both labeled "late bloomers." But Su Dingfang knew his future fame would come from decades of brutal warfare, from the frozen lands of Liaodong to the deserts of Central Asia.
This minor civil official... was he truly going to achieve legendary status from a single battle?
Meanwhile, in a completely different time and a completely different military camp.
Staring at the floating Light Screen and that sarcastic question from the narrator, Pang Tong shook his head and smiled.
"I have noticed something interesting," Pang Tong said, his voice drifting casually through the Shu Han command tent. "It seems this great Emperor Li Shimin still has a lot to learn about keeping his composure."
Liu Bei looked over with curiosity. "What makes you say that, Shi Yuan?"
Pang Tong's smile widened into a mischievous grin. "I was just thinking. Imagine if our dear Yide were appointed Chief Censor in the Tang Dynasty court..."
Liu Bei actually paused to picture it. Zhang Fei, fueled by cheap wine and righteous fury, screaming insults directly into Emperor Li Shimin's face. He shook his head firmly.
"You are letting your imagination run wild, Shi Yuan," Liu Bei said matter-of-factly. "History says Li Shimin suffers from chronic migraines, much like our old enemy Cao Cao. Putting Yide in his court would guarantee the Emperor drops dead from an aneurysm within a week."
Zhang Fei, who was the subject of this discussion, crossed his massive arms and looked deeply offended.
"If that Tang Emperor does stupid things, why should I not be allowed to yell at him about it?" Zhang Fei grumbled, his voice booming through the tent. "And let us be honest, this Tang Dynasty's imperial family is an absolute disaster."
Zhang Fei had zero interest in the politics of some future empire. He was entirely focused on the gossip.
"Look at what they have done!" Zhang Fei counted off on his thick fingers. "First, a son marries his father's concubine. Then, a father steals his own son's wife. And now we have a general whose wife is sleeping with his adopted son right under his nose! What a mess!"
Zhang Fei shuddered dramatically, looking genuinely disturbed.
"Sure, they have plenty of wealth and power, but their family tree is so twisted it looks like a bowl of tangled noodles. It is terrifying. What is next? A mother and daughter serving the same husband?"
Liu Bei coughed awkwardly, unsure how to defend the future dynasty when everything Zhang Fei said was technically true.
"I really do not think they would go that far, right ?" Liu Bei offered weakly.
But deep in his own mind, a certain fuzzy thought began to take shape.
You know, Liu Bei thought to himself, that old scoundrel Cao Cao, who always dreamed of being the great General Conquering the West, would absolutely thrive in the Tang Dynasty. He would fit right into that family dynamic without missing a beat.
[Light Screen]
[Let us bring our focus back to our main man Liu Rengui.
While Liu Rengui was busy getting demoted and packing his bags for Qingzhou, the Tang Empire's war machine was going all out in a brutal fight up in Liaodong.
When it came to dealing with the stubborn problem that was the Goguryeo empire, the Tang Dynasty was not holding anything back. They threw everything they had at it.
The strategy changed over time. It started with Li Shimin leading an invasion himself. When that did not finish the job, Li Zhi switched things up early in his rule. He went with a plan to wear Goguryeo down little by little. The Tang army used scorched earth tactics, launching constant devastating raids on the border to slowly drain Goguryeo's resources dry.
At the same time, Tang diplomats were playing their cards perfectly. Following the old rule of "befriend distant states, attack those nearby," the Tang court made strong alliances with Silla and Baekje, the two kingdoms that shared the southern half of the Korean peninsula. The big plan was to squeeze Goguryeo from all sides and finish them off for good.
But the Korean peninsula was like a powder keg ready to blow. It was not that big and was cut off from the rest of the world by sea, yet three highly aggressive kingdoms were all crammed in there fighting for space.
And the pressure from outside was huge too. To the west, the Tang superpower was staring at them like a hungry tiger. Across the sea to the east, the island country of Wa, what we call Japan, was busy plotting how to get a permanent military foothold on the mainland.
With all that pressure building up, the shaky balance of power on the peninsula finally broke. Things went crazy exactly like anyone paying attention would have expected.
Feeling the heat from Tang, Goguryeo decided to change things up. They promised King Uija of Baekje some new land if he joined them. The two old enemies made a secret deal to work together. Their new goal? Hit Silla first and split up its land before Tang could step in.
Facing the combined power of two neighbors, Silla's leaders knew they were outmatched. They did not waste a single second. They sent messengers racing across the sea to the Tang capital, begging for help.
The message from Silla basically said: "Dad, come quick! They are ganging up on me!"
Li Zhi looked at the whole situation and did not mess around with small responses. He started things off by playing his best card.
The Tang Emperor sent out the legendary Su Dingfang, ordering him to take charge and crush whoever got in his way!]