Inside the Ganlu Hall, a detailed map of the Korean Peninsula was carefully unrolled and pushed to the center of the room.
Relying entirely on the geographical layouts provided by the Light Screen from the future, Li Shimin had personally commissioned his cartographers to draft multiple localized maps. He was fascinated by the precision of future geography.
Take the Liaodong theater map laid out before them right now. It used the exact topographical framework of future generations as its foundation. On top of that perfect grid, Tang military officials had meticulously plotted the current locations of every commandery and county. They then color coded the overlapping spheres of influence belonging to the three major regional powers: Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla.
Li Jing, the legendary God of War, stood over the table. He studied the layout with intense focus, his weathered fingers tracing mountain ridges and river valleys across the parchment. Then he picked up a piece of specialized drawing charcoal and sketched several bold lines across the map, marking projected marching routes for the Tang expeditionary forces.
By this point, the senior military leadership of the Tang Dynasty had fully adapted to this futuristic method of military cartography. They loved it. A simple curved arrow could dictate the direction of an entire army group. It was intuitive, stripping away pages of confusing written descriptions and presenting tactical reality at a single glance.
Li Shimin leaned over the table, his eyes following every mark Li Jing made. He stroked his beard thoughtfully before speaking.
"Look at this network of routes," he said, tapping a finger on the map. "If the unexpected rebellion in Baekje had not erupted, launching this many coordinated columns simultaneously would barely be manageable. Our logistics are stretched to the breaking point, but I know we could pull it off if conditions were ideal."
Li Jing nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving the map.
"Your Majesty speaks truly," he said, his voice carrying the weight of decades of command. "In my heart as a soldier, I know mobilizing such a vast force for an overseas campaign is like walking a tightrope over a canyon. One misstep and our supply chains will collapse completely. But I understand the politics of it all. Sometimes the only way to guarantee peace is to hit hard enough that the enemy never dares rise again."
He moved his hand across the parchment and sketched a series of horizontal hash marks over Baekje territory, marking the entire region as hostile. Only one small blank circle remained in the center. Sabi city, the sole stronghold still under Tang control.
With those few strokes, the full chaos of the Korean Peninsula was clear to everyone in the room.
Li Jing then shifted his charcoal to the far right edge of the map and drew a thick arrow pointing west from the island nation of Wa, what future generations would call Japan.
Li Shimin stared at the tangled web of hostile forces surrounding his army and let out a heavy sigh.
"The delicate balance of the three kingdoms has been shattered," he said, rubbing his temples with both hands. "I thought I understood how fragile it was, but I never imagined things could fall apart this fast or this violently."
Future historians constantly referred to the Korean Peninsula as a place of fragile equilibrium. Looking at the map, Li Shimin finally understood exactly how true that assessment was.
From intelligence gathered by the Zhenguan court, he knew the basic facts.
Goguryeo was a military giant in the north, though even they lacked the strength to conquer both Baekje and Silla at once.
The origins of these states created layers of ancient hatred too. The royal family that founded Baekje were once political refugees who fled Goguryeo. Because of this shared heritage, the Tang court considered Baekje a peripheral vassal within the Han cultural sphere. Silla meanwhile had been built by native tribes of the southern peninsula.
"Baekje and Silla claim to be allies," Li Shimin scoffed, pointing at their respective territories. "But everyone here knows they despise each other. They only work together when Goguryeo threatens to crush them both like grapes underfoot."
"And now we learn the situation is even worse," Li Jing added, tapping the arrow from Japan. "The Light Screen showed us Baekje has been secretly making deals with the Japanese. If Baekje is playing these games, I would wager Silla is no cleaner. They are doing the same behind our backs."
A sudden surge of irritation washed over the Emperor. His brow furrowed deeply, and for the first time in a long while, he felt an overwhelming urge to just flip the table.
"It is a small, insignificant scrap of land!" Li Shimin growled, slapping the edge of the table. "Yet it is crawling with monsters, demons, and backstabbing cowards!"
Li Jing paid no mind to the outburst. He was already recalling more details from the future broadcasts and sketching a new arrow, this one pointing away from Liaodong toward the northern steppes.
"Your Majesty will remember what the screen showed us about Xue Rengui," he said calmly. "How he secured the Tianshan mountains with just three arrows. That campaign happens at precisely this same time."
He tapped the charcoal against the map to drive his point home.
"Also, the screen named Xiao Siye as one of Xue Rengui's commanders in that northern campaign. Right now, Xiao Siye serves as deputy general under Su Dingfang here in Liaodong. The meaning is clear."
Li Jing finally looked up to meet the Emperor's eyes.
"When trouble erupts in the north, the court will have no choice but to pull elite troops and capable commanders away from here. Resources meant for our primary objective will be diverted to put down that rebellion."
As Li Jing finished his markings, the full disaster facing the Tang's northeastern front was laid bare. It was a logistical structure built on sand, ready to crumble at any moment.
Li Shimin let out another long sigh, looking visibly tired from the weight of knowing what lay ahead.
"If only Baekje had stayed stable," he muttered. Then he corrected himself quickly. "No, if only we had properly secured and pacified the Ungjin Commandery when we had the chance."
He did not need to finish the thought. Every military leader in the room understood perfectly.
If the Tang forces had successfully stabilized the Ungjin Commandery, it would have served as an invincible forward operating base. From that secure position in the south, they could push supplies northward to support the main assault on Goguryeo. They could project naval power eastward to sever the grasping claws of the Japanese military. Simultaneously, a strong presence in Baekje would serve as a loaded gun pointed directly at Silla, forcing their supposed allies to behave.
If the south was secure, the entire deadlock on the peninsula could be unraveled.
But reality was far different.
Then Li Shimin's eyes locked onto the arrow pointing from the Japanese islands. A dangerous smirk slowly crept across his face.
"This so called Empress of Japan," Li Shimin said, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly quiet register. "Her ambitions are certainly naked for all to see."
He slapped his hand against the table again, but this time it was not out of frustration. It was pure, predatory anticipation.
"I swear it," Li Shimin declared, his eyes burning with the old fire of the Heavenly Strategy Admiral. "Before my time on this earth is done, I am going to have my generals drag that woman into this very hall. I want her bound in chains at the foot of my throne. I want her to look me in the eye and personally explain her grand strategy for conquering my empire."
Ambition was not something that angered Li Shimin. He loved fighting ambitious people. Breaking the pride of arrogant rulers was his favorite hobby. The most intriguing part of the whole scenario was that the enemy leader was a female monarch from a foreign island, a true rarity in the geopolitical landscape. That made the victory even sweeter in his mind.
Without a doubt, the Emperor's interest in the island nation of Japan had just skyrocketed. They had officially earned his undivided, destructive attention. The Yamato court had just made a very powerful enemy.
[LIGHT SCREEN]
[After the desperate imperial decree came through, Liu Rengui, a man who had been stripped of every rank and reduced to a common criminal, was suddenly resurrected as the supreme commander of the region. Talk about a career glow up.
But the official promotion paperwork did not travel alone. Riding in the exact same courier pouch was an illegal secret order from Chancellor Li Yifu.
From the safety of his cozy office in Chang'an, Li Yifu sent a direct command to the Tang general currently holding Sabi city, a man named Liu Renyuan. The corrupt Chancellor ordered him to invent any excuse necessary, fabricate a military crime, and execute Liu Rengui immediately under martial law.
You really have to admire Li Yifu's commitment to hatred. His obsession with destroying Liu Rengui was basically pathological. The guy chased him across the ocean like a toxic ex who just would not let go.
Now, a quick historical clarification: Liu Rengui and Liu Renyuan shared the same surname, which might make people think they were brothers. They were not. Zero biological connection, not even distant cousins.
General Liu Renyuan's family tree was actually fascinating. His ancestors were Xiongnu nomads, and he was a direct descendant of Liu Yuan, the famous Xiongnu warlord who founded the Han Zhao dynasty during the chaotic Sixteen Kingdoms period. The logic back then was beautifully simple: since the Xiongnu royal families had intermarried with Han Dynasty princesses centuries ago, they decided to claim the imperial Liu surname. So a Xiongnu Liu was a real Liu, and a Xiongnu Han dynasty was a real Han dynasty. History is full of these delightful little ironies.
Regardless of his ancestry, General Liu Renyuan read the secret assassination order from the Chancellor. He was speechless. Then he threw the letter in the trash.
Look at the situation on the ground: the Ungjin Commandery was literally burning down around them, and the Tang army was surrounded by millions of screaming rebels. And this idiot politician sitting safely in Chang'an wanted them to start a bloody internal purge? Could the civilian government be any more pathetic?
Furthermore, Liu Renyuan was not a man easily intimidated by corrupt bureaucrats. He used to serve as a frontline bodyguard for Emperor Li Shimin himself. Official records mention an incident where an enraged wild beast broke loose during an imperial hunt. Liu Renyuan stepped in front of the Emperor and literally beat the animal to death with his bare hands. This was a notoriously tough, violently upright officer. He lacked the political cunning to openly oppose a Chancellor in the capital, but he refused to act as Li Yifu's personal hitman. He ignored the order and kept Liu Rengui alive.
Meanwhile, right next door, the kingdom of Silla was playing a two faced game.
When Goguryeo and Baekje were ganging up on them, Silla acted like the ultimate loyal servant, begging the Tang Dynasty for help and offering total obedience. But the second the mighty Tang army crossed the ocean and smashed Baekje into the dirt, removing the immediate threat, Silla suddenly suffered a severe case of convenient amnesia. They started giving their Tang overlords the cold shoulder.
As the Tang garrison bled and died fighting the massive Baekje restoration army, the Silla military deliberately pulled their forces back from the frontlines. They sat on the hills and watched the carnage like spectators at a wrestling match, cold, calculating, and ready to pick up the pieces.
When Li Zhi sent a direct imperial edict commanding the King of Silla to send reinforcements to rescue the trapped Tang forces, the King responded by sending a few hundred poorly armed conscripts. It was an insulting token gesture designed to technically fulfill the order without risking any real assets, basically, the bare minimum required to avoid being labeled traitors.
The Supreme Commander, Su Dingfang, was furious. He ordered Silla to honor their original military pact and launch a coordinated assault against Goguryeo. The King of Silla officially complied and deployed an army, but this Silla force instantly ran away the second they made contact with the enemy. And the craziest part? After fleeing the battlefield, the Silla generals had the audacity to march right into the Tang camp and demand their share of combat rewards and grain rations.
Imagine running away from a fight and then asking for the victory bonus. The audacity was next level.
This blatant sabotage paralyzed the southern front. Su Dingfang's advance ground to a miserable, frustrating halt.
And while the southern front was drowning in political betrayal, the northern front was experiencing a total tactical meltdown.
Yes, General Xue Rengui looked incredibly cool when he forced the surrender of the Tianshan tribes with three legendary bow shots. It was great PR. But the overall commander of that northern army, Zheng Rentai, ruined the victory.
Blinded by greed and a desperate thirst for military glory, Zheng Rentai launched a reckless, unauthorized pursuit deep into hostile territory without proper supplies.
The result was a catastrophic joke. Over ten thousand elite, heavily armored Tang cavalrymen froze to death in a sudden blizzard. They were wiped out not by the enemy, but by the weather, all because of one man's arrogance. Mother Nature said, "Not today."
Seeing the Tang army stumble, the scattered remnants of the Nine Tiele Tribes immediately began coordinating, planning to unite and strike back while the Tang were weak. Panicking, Li Zhi desperately ordered his best cavalry commander, Qibi Heli, to abandon the Goguryeo front and rush north to crush the Tiele uprising.
This order was a disaster. Qibi Heli was currently serving as the supreme commander of the northern thrust into Goguryeo, and he was winning. His vanguard had already smashed their way to the very gates of Pyongyang. But an imperial order is absolute. Qibi Heli packed up his camp and marched away, giving the terrified defenders of Goguryeo a life saving breather. They probably could not believe their luck.
The sudden withdrawal of the supreme commander left a gaping tactical hole in the Tang defensive line. The legendary dictator of Goguryeo, Yeon Gaesomun, was a master strategist. He instantly recognized the vulnerability and launched a devastating counterattack.
Operating with overwhelming numerical superiority, Yeon Gaesomun successfully encircled a Tang army group led by General Pang Xiaotai.
Pang Xiaotai commanded an elite unit of five thousand fiercely loyal warriors from the Bai ethnic minority. They fought with terrifying bravery, refusing to surrender a single inch of ground. In the ensuing bloodbath, General Pang Xiaotai and all thirteen of his biological sons fought to the bitter end and died side by side on the battlefield. Thirteen sons, all gone, wiped out by the Goguryeo swarm.
Let us summarize this apocalypse real quick: the northern front was collapsing. The southern front was paralyzed by sabotage. Their supposed allies in Silla were actively plotting their downfall. The Japanese military was sharpening their swords across the water. And the Baekje rebels were fighting a holy war in the center. The Korean Peninsula had essentially evolved into a meat grinder of unprecedented chaos.
When Li Zhi initially launched this war, he was riding high on dreams of glory. But watching the situation degenerate into a bloody, expensive quagmire broke his spirit. The Emperor was physically exhausted and mentally drained. Then a massive winter storm dumped feet of snow across the entire theater. For Li Zhi, that was the final straw. He decided to cut his losses and initiate a total withdrawal.
He was ready to abandon the entire project. He sent a direct order to Liu Rengui in Sabi city.
The order was simple: Stop fighting. Abandon the fortress. Retreat into Silla territory, beg the King of Silla for safe passage, and bring the survivors home. We are done here.
Liu Rengui received the order and politely rejected the Emperor's logic. Actually, scratch that. He did not just reject it. He dismantled it piece by piece like a scholar taking apart a poorly written essay.
Liu Rengui looked at the strategic reality and saw things differently from the panicking Emperor back in Chang'an. Before the Tang army arrived, the peninsula was a hostile standoff between three kingdoms. If the Tang ran away now, the Baekje rebels would instantly rebuild their nation, and everything would return to exactly how it was before. That would mean tens of thousands of Tang soldiers had bled, frozen, and died for nothing. It was a senseless waste of human life, and Liu Rengui was not about to let that happen on his watch.
Therefore, Liu Rengui flatly refused to retreat. He locked the gates of Sabi city and prepared for a siege. Then he sat down and drafted a massive, brilliantly argued memorial to the throne, designed to slap some courage back into Emperor Li Zhi.
His argument was straightforward and brutally logical.
First, abandoning Sabi would be a catastrophic strategic blunder. The Baekje restoration forces were still burning with righteous fury, and if the Tang gave up their only foothold, those rebels would rebuild their kingdom within months. Everything the Tang had sacrificed would be for nothing.
Second, Goguryeo was still breathing, still dangerous, still waiting for the Tang to stumble. If the army pulled back now, when would they ever get another chance to crush the northern giant? The opportunity might not come again for decades, if ever.
Third, Sabi city was positioned right in the heart of enemy territory. It was the Tang's only foothold, their dagger aimed at the rebels' throat. Abandoning it would be like giving your enemy your strongest fortress and hoping they did not use it against you. That was not strategy. That was suicide.
But the most interesting part of his argument focused on the enemy alliance. Liu Rengui pointed out that it was not as solid as it looked from the outside. The Baekje rebels were led by Buyeo Pung, a prince who had been raised in Japan and brought back to lead the restoration. His top general was Boksin, a fiercely ambitious military commander who had his own ideas about who should be in charge. These two men were supposedly allies, but Liu Rengui could smell the tension from a mile away. They were united by hatred of the Tang, sure, but hatred only goes so far. Eventually, their personal ambitions would clash. The alliance was built on sand.
The best strategy, Liu Rengui argued, was simple: dig in, hold the line, and wait. Let the enemy alliance stew in its own resentment. Let Buyeo Pung and Boksin tear each other apart. Let the Japanese grow impatient. Let the Korean winter do what Korean winter does best, test every army's endurance equally. The Tang army just had to survive. If they could do that, the enemy would eventually fracture under its own weight.
Furthermore, Liu Rengui explicitly stated that trusting the King of Silla was a death sentence. He had seen their behavior on the battlefield, watching them run away and then demand rewards. Silla was playing the classic strategy of letting both sides exhaust each other so they could swoop in and claim the prize. Their treacherous intentions were so obvious it was almost comical. Liu Rengui warned the Emperor in no uncertain terms: Silla was not an ally. Silla was a vulture waiting for the Tang to drop dead so they could pick at the bones.
Liu Rengui's chillingly accurate strategic assessment was validated almost immediately. The moment he sent that letter, the island nation of Japan officially deployed their military forces across the water. The Yamato court had been watching the chaos unfold, sharpening their swords and waiting for the perfect moment. And now, they were coming.
But Liu Rengui was not afraid. He had already made his choice. He locked the gates, sharpened his own sword, and prepared to prove to Emperor Li Zhi that retreat was never the answer.]
Far away in Chengdu's busy government hall, Zhuge Liang fanned himself slowly with his feather fan. The man looked like he was contemplating the very meaning of existence, and honestly, with everything he had been watching, who could blame him?
"A thousand mile dam breaks because of one small ant hole," Zhuge Liang quoted softly, his eyes fixed on the magical screen. "A tall mansion burns to ash from just one spark slipping out of the stove."
He tapped his fan against his palm like a professor about to deliver a lecture.
"Li Zhi's small minded obsession with holding back rewards and not honoring his soldiers, that was the spark that set off this whole Baekje mess."
He tapped his fan again for emphasis.
"And then there's Zheng Rentai, rushing ahead just for his own glory. That gave Goguryeo the chance to catch their breath and stay alive, a chance they never should have had."
Zhuge Liang shook his head sadly. He found himself wondering if General Su Dingfang, the one who would sail home empty handed and disgraced in that future, ever felt even a little sorry for letting his men hurt the people of Sabi city. Probably not. Ego was a hell of a drug.
A commander could make a hundred excuses for letting troops loot and kill, talking about keeping morale up, saving supplies, or punishing the enemy. But the truth was simple: the point of defeating Baekje was to make it part of the empire. The goal was to turn those people into loyal subjects. If you kill their families and make them hate you forever, can you really say you have conquered anything? You have just made a place that will never stop fighting you. It was like winning a fight and then accidentally burning down your own house.
Thinking about how fragile conquest could be, Zhuge Liang looked over at Zhang Fei. He felt a new kind of respect for the big warrior.
The fact that Zhang Fei, famous for blowing his top at the smallest thing, had seen right away how this Baekje disaster was just like what could happen with the Qiang tribes in Yongzhou and Liangzhou? That was more than just being a fighter. He was thinking like someone who would have to rule one day. Maybe there was a brain under all that muscle after all.
"This is crazy!" Zhang Fei suddenly blurted out, his eyes wide with shock. He slapped a heavy hand on Pang Tong's shoulder, nearly knocking the smaller advisor off his seat. The man did not know his own strength.
"This Goguryeo place is something else!" Zhang Fei roared. "They have fought off and shamed three Chinese emperors! First the Sui guys, now this Tang Emperor. How do they keep doing it?!"
Pang Tong winced and rubbed his sore shoulder, but he nodded in agreement. He studied the mess with sharp eyes, trying to make sense of the chaos.
"When Li Zhi sent out all those armies at once, I thought for sure he was going to finish it, hit them so hard they would never get up again. I thought he was trying to get ten years of work done in one go."
Pang Tong shook his head, looking thoroughly disappointed. His expectations had been shattered.
"But look at how it turned out, total mess. They did not listen to what their scouts were saying before they started. Once the fighting began, they let everything fall apart, supplies, discipline, everything. And right when they had the enemy on the ropes, Li Zhi got scared and pulled his best general away to chase bandits in the desert."
Pang Tong pointed at Zhang Fei like he was making a closing argument.
"Yide, you were right about this Tang Emperor. His worst problem is that when things get tough, he panics. He makes choices out of fear, not sense. He tries to protect everything at once, and ends up protecting nothing at all."
A heavy silence fell over the Shu Han command center. Pang Tong let out a quiet sigh, thinking about all that could have been. The weight of missed opportunities hung in the air.
"It is such a waste," Pang Tong said thoughtfully. "If Su Dingfang had kept his men in line and not let them run wild in Sabi, if Li Zhi had picked a proper leader for the north instead of that glory seeker Zheng Rentai, things might have gone so differently."
Pang Tong could not help but imagine what could have been. If Tang had won clean and solid, they would not be pouring men and money into that Korean mud pit. The whole future of their empire might have been far brighter. But wishes were not horses, and beggars could not ride.
But Zhuge Liang saw it differently. He did not believe in accidents causing disasters like this. Every mistake on that screen was a sign of something wrong deep in how the empire worked, symptoms clear to any trained eye.
Not enough ways for good men to move up in the army. Rich nobles' kids getting put in charge just because of their family name. The Emperor himself not thinking about the big picture. It was a system designed by idiots to reward idiots.
Zhuge Liang felt like every one of these failures could fill whole books on how to run a country, the perfect example of what not to do, a masterclass in military incompetence.
But as he reached for a brush to write down his thoughts, he stopped cold. A sharp realization hit him like a brick to the face.
The Tang Dynasty had the Han Dynasty's mistakes to learn from, and yet, they were making the exact same ones. History was not just repeating itself. It was copying and pasting.
Zhuge Liang stared at the blank parchment for a long moment. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he set the brush back down. What was the point?
Hoping future generations would just read books and get better at ruling was just wishful thinking. The Tang Dynasty proved that people rarely learn from what happened before them. They were too busy being arrogant.
If they really wanted to fix what was wrong with an empire, they had to look beyond just learning from the past. The Light Screen had shown them the answer over and over these past months. It was staring them right in the face.
If you are not moving forward, you are sliding backward. That is how the world has always been. There is no standing still in history.
New ways to build things. Better ways to count and plan. Knowing more about keeping people healthy. Teaching everyone to read and understand their own culture. Every single one of these things needed people to keep working at them, making them better. The future folks just called it making things better with new ideas, innovation, they called it.
In that quiet moment, Zhuge Liang felt like he understood the world a little more clearly. The path ahead was plain to see. It was not about conquering more land. It was about building something that would last.
Sitting nearby, Liu Bei was not thinking about big ideas like progress. He was stroking his beard, fascinated by the story of General Liu Renyuan.
A man from the Xiongnu, calling himself Liu? Liu Bei thought to himself. That was certainly unusual.
He shook his head. It did not matter where a man's family came from. If he respected their ways, lived by their values, and was willing to bleed to protect their home, then he was one of them, not some barbarian. Labels were for people who did not understand the world.
Anyone who lives in the wild lands but honors the light of Hua Xia is a true child of Hua Xia. That was the only test that mattered.
Back in Ganlu Hall, Li Shimin let out a rough sigh. He was practically buzzing with worry as he watched the disaster unfold on the screen. His blood pressure was probably through the roof.
When Li Zhi ordered the Goguryeo war right after Baekje, without giving his troops time to rest, Li Shimin had called it reckless, a child rushing into a fight without catching his breath.
When Li Zhi sent four huge armies to attack all at once, Li Shimin had said it was too much, stretching food supplies to the edge of breaking, like trying to feed four elephants with one banana.
And when Li Zhi panicked and pulled Qibi Heli away from Pyongyang, leading to Pang Xiaotai and his thirteen sons dying in battle, Li Shimin felt like reaching through the screen, grabbing his son by the neck, and throwing him out of the tent.
"Do you have any idea how to lead an army?" Li Shimin wanted to shout across the years. "Step aside and let me take over!"
But a cold dose of reality cooled his anger fast. Li Zhi was his son. He had raised him, taught him how to rule. His son's failures were his failures too. The apple did not fall far from the tree, and that was the most painful part.
Teaching a child how to run an empire, Li Shimin realized with a heavy heart, was a thousand times harder than conquering one. Conquering was easy. Parenting was the real challenge.
Still, looking for something good to hold onto, Li Shimin noticed that his son was not hopeless. He glanced over at the space where Liu Rengui would one day stand in the hall. At least the boy had some instincts.
At the very least, Li Zhi had sense enough to bring back a good man when things got bad. And more than that, when Liu Rengui told him the hard truth about needing to hold Sabi city, Li Zhi actually listened. That counted for something.
Li Shimin remembered the screen mentioning a future Emperor Xuanzong, who had ignored his loyal general Feng Changqing's warnings and brought ruin on himself. That guy was the real disaster.
Compared to that, Li Shimin thought, trying to make himself feel better, maybe his son Li Zhi was doing alright after all. At least he was not deaf to good advice. Small mercies.