Inside the Chengdu prefectural headquarters, Zhang Song's lingering question hung heavily in the air, leaving the hall in stunned silence.
An emperor and his concubines drowning in hedonism. Sycophantic generals dancing for favor. A Prime Minister who bought his way in through nepotism. Military authority tossed out like cheap party favors.
They could not fully comprehend the so-called century of prosperity of the Great Tang, but they understood exactly what kind of state it had become.
Luxurious.
Decadent.
Diseased to the core.
Liu Bei finally broke the silence, letting out a quiet sigh.
"Yep," he said flatly. "That is the face of a dying dynasty."
---
From Sun Simiao's perspective, the Emperor of the Great Tang looked less like a sovereign and more like a walking medical emergency.
Li Shimin's relaxed posture had completely vanished. He paced the hall in tight circles, fists clenched, jaw locked hard enough to crack stone. At last, he stormed toward the light screen, snatching up his brush to vent his fury into the comment section.
As soon as the words flashed on the screen stating that An Lushan had been granted control over three frontier garrisons, Li Shimin froze. His finger rose, trembling. His mouth opened, ready to unleash a barrage of curses. Not a single word came out. Instead, his face twisted. The veins at his temples pulsed so hard they looked ready to burst.
Zhangsun Wuji caught him immediately.
Before the ministers could spiral into panic, Sun Simiao reached into his belt pouch with the calm of a man who had seen this exact meltdown a hundred times. He popped out a black-and-yellow pill and shoved it into the Emperor's mouth. Hou Junji hurriedly poured water and helped wash it down.
"What exactly was that?" Zhangsun Wuji asked, still gripping the Emperor's arm tightly.
"Wild chrysanthemum, meadow rue, bezoar, and pearl powder. A Heat-Clearing Pill," Sun Simiao replied in the tone of a bored pharmacist reciting a grocery list.
As for Li Shimin's face scrunching into a tight ball of agony? Sun Simiao did not blink. Medicine is bitter. Deal with it, Your Majesty.
While the Emperor was forcibly placed into a medical time-out, Du Ruhui frowned deeply.
"And what of Prime Minister Zhang Jiuling?" he asked. "With the state infested by such a parasite, should he not have rallied the loyalists to purge the court?"
He was actively trying not to think about the grotesque harem politics involving Emperor Xuanzong, An Lushan, and Yang Guifei.
The Tang Dynasty was losing face across the spacetime continuum, humiliated in front of future generations, and worse, humiliated in front of the Marquis Wu.
At that moment, Du Ruhui genuinely wanted to mount a horse, ride an eight-hundred-li express relay straight to Marquis Wu's shrine, and scream: Please believe us, Zhuge Wuhou. Not all Tang rulers were this catastrophically stupid.
"He was definitely dismissed," Fang Xuanling concluded with clinical bluntness. "If a Prime Minister of Zhang Jiuling's caliber had still remained in office, how could a clown like An Lushan possibly have risen to Military Governor?"
Du Ruhui choked on his own words before finally forcing out a hollow consolation.
"I only hope he died peacefully."
Wei Zheng let out a cold snort.
"Rally the loyalists?" he said flatly. "Judging by the way the Emperor shields this merchant-broker, if someone truly attempted to purge the traitor… who exactly do you think the Emperor would classify as the traitor?"
The civilian officials shut their mouths. You could not outmaneuver imperial stupidity.
---
[Lightscreen]
[From the moment Zhang Jiuling diagnosed that this man will tear Youzhou apart, up until An Lushan officially raised the banners of rebellion in 755 AD, his treason was an open secret across the Tang Empire.
In 754 AD, after his bid for the position of Prime Minister was blocked by Yang Guozhong, An Lushan did not waste time sulking.
Instead, he immediately carried out a massive internal reshuffle, promoting more than five hundred generals and over two thousand mid-ranking officers in a single sweep.
The moment that personnel roster reached Chang'an, the entire capital practically erupted.
The streets buzzed with panic. Officials whispered behind closed doors. Even ordinary citizens were openly shouting: "He is building a rebel army!"
And Emperor Li Longji's response?
He glanced at the list and stamped APPROVED across the whole thing without hesitation.
A few months later, in early 755 AD, An Lushan's deputy, He Qiannian, arrived in the capital for an official debriefing.
He brought another request from his superior.
An Lushan wished to systematically remove more than thirty Han Chinese commanders from the Fanyang army and replace them exclusively with non-Han officers loyal to himself.
The regional commanders from the Heshuo districts, who had entered the capital alongside He Qiannian, were completely horrified.
They immediately submitted a joint memorial to the throne, practically begging Emperor Li Longji to wake up to reality.
"Your Majesty, are you blind?!" one official nearly exploded. "Everyone knows what An Lushan is planning! Even the grandmothers in the marketplaces know! Even the toddlers running around Chang'an know this man is going to rebel!"
Emperor Li Longji's solution to the crisis was breathtaking in its absurdity.
Not only did he enthusiastically approve every single one of An Lushan's requested personnel changes, he even turned around and declared that the officials opposing them were merely "jealous of An Lushan's talent."
The entire imperial court fell silent.
At that point, nobody knew what else they were supposed to say.
When the CEO refuses to live in reality, the only move left is to nod politely and wait for the company to drive straight off the cliff.
Step forward, Prime Minister Yang Guozhong, who surveyed this gigantic powder keg and somehow arrived at a masterpiece of disaster decision-making.
His logic was beautifully self-destructive:
"If I force An Lushan to rebel right now, it proves I was right all along. Perfect logic, right?."
Convinced of his own brilliance, Yang Guozhong launched a rogue operation completely behind Emperor Li Longji's back.
He ordered a violent raid on An Lushan's estate in Chang'an. Retainers were dragged out in chains, interrogated on the spot, and executed without mercy.
Unfortunately, timing is everything.
Xuanzong had just arranged a royal marriage for An Lushan's eldest son, An Qingzong, who was still in the capital preparing for the wedding ceremony.
The moment An Qingzong heard about the bloody raid, he immediately dispatched emergency couriers northward, riding horses to death to warn his father in Hebei.
From An Lushan's perspective, the calculation was simple.
Yang Guozhong would never dare execute the retainers of a supreme frontier military governor without at least implicit approval from the throne. If he traveled to Chang'an now for the wedding, he would be walking directly into a trap.
The banquet wine cups would shatter.
Royal axemen would burst from behind the curtains.
And his body would be hacked into minced meat before sunrise.
Based on this entirely reasonable conclusion, An Lushan abruptly claimed illness, skipped the royal wedding, and slammed his foot down on the accelerator toward total war.
Six months later, under the politically convenient slogan of "Clearing the Emperor's side of the traitor Yang Guozhong," An Lushan and Shi Siming officially mobilized their armies in Hebei.
Thus began the An Lushan Rebellion, an eight-year apocalyptic meat grinder in which absolutely nobody truly won.]
---
Back inside Ganlu Hall, Li Shimin's migraine had only just begun to subside.
He sat there rubbing his temples, quietly savoring the brief moment of relief.
But the instant he watched Emperor Li Longji repeatedly fight against his own officials, his own generals, and practically his own empire just to protect An Lushan, the pains came roaring straight back.
Fortunately, Sun Simiao's bitter medicine was working overtime, barely preventing the Emperor's collapse on the spot.
Even so, Li Shimin abruptly shot to his feet.
"Is this An Lushan some kind of nine-tailed fox spirit in human disguise?!" he roared. "Does the man possess mind-control sorcery?!"
His chest heaved violently as fury boiled across his face.
"I originally thought Yang Guifei was the root cause behind the dynasty's collapse," he snapped. "But no! The blood of this catastrophe belongs squarely to Xuanzong and An Lushan themselves!"
His ministers scrambled to calm him. Hou Junji nodded in agreement. "It makes sense now. The Heshuo garrisons were not inherently treasonous. An Lushan systematically purged the loyalist officers and replaced them with his own cronies to secure control."
That was the most suffocating part. Fang Xuanling counted on his fingers. "The civilians knew. The ministers knew. The border generals knew. It was an open secret."
Du Ruhui shook his head. "Xuanzong knew too. He just refused to believe it."
Whether Xuanzong genuinely trusted the man or was running from reality did not matter. The bomb was already planted.
"I just did not expect the detonator to be so profoundly stupid," Du Ruhui muttered.
It really was that stupid. The Prime Minister acting like a rogue cowboy, a border general drowning in paranoia. A series of misunderstandings severing the fragile trust between adoptive father and son.
Wei Zheng summarized the tragedy with a sigh. "If Yang Guozhong had launched his raid before An Lushan finished replacing the Han generals, it might have worked. But waiting until the enemy leveled up to poke the bear? Too late."
For a brief moment, Wei Zheng felt bad for the loyal Tang officials of that era. When the monarch becomes the meat shield for the final boss, who can stop him?
Li Shimin stared at the screen, asking the question burning in his chest. "A century of prosperity. Where were the warriors? Where was the heart of the Great Tang?!"
---
Over in Chengdu, Zhang Fei scratched his head, utterly baffled.
"Is this Emperor Li Longji actually brain-damaged?"
Handing the enemy a freshly sharpened blade while simultaneously sticking your own neck out was no longer a matter of poor strategy.
That was practically a formal application for dynastic suicide.
Zhao Yun pursed his lips slightly.
"Even so," he said slowly, "a dynasty that enjoyed over a century of prosperity should not have been completely devoid of loyal and capable men."
If future generations praised this era so passionately, then somewhere within the empire there had to be officials willing to bleed for the state.
So how did a foreign mercenary manage to snowball his power this absurdly fast?
Off to the side, Xu Shu casually tossed a roasted peanut into his mouth before letting out a dry, humorless chuckle.
"Maybe," he drawled, "the loyal men had already died at their posts... and the competent ones had long since been reduced to ashes."
---
[Lightscreen]
[The truth is, An Lushan's impending rebellion was not just a rumor in the capital. It was recognized by true military professionals across the board.
When discussing the Gods of War in the Early Tang, names like Li Jing, Li Ji, and Su Dingfang share the VIP table. But during Xuanzong's era, only one man earned that title. Wang Zhongsi.
Wang Zhongsi was Xuanzong's first adoptive son. By family hierarchy, he was An Lushan's older brother, right?
His biological father, Wang Haibin, was a Tang commander who died a hero's death against the Tibetans when allied reinforcements abandoned him.
Grieving the loss, Li Longji brought young Wang Xun into the palace, raised him as his own, and renamed him Zhongsi, Loyal Heir. He painted a vision for the boy. You will be my Huo Qubing. Grow up, and I will make you my grand general.
Li Longji looked at Wang Zhongsi and saw a legendary conqueror. Wang Zhongsi looked in the mirror and demanded nothing less.
As an commander, Wang Zhongsi was the epitome of military excellence. He enforced ironclad discipline, treated his soldiers like family, and led from the front. His prestige was monumental.
In the seventeenth year of the Kaiyuan era, the Tibetan forces were reeling from brutal defeats against the Tang. Morale was in the gutter. Desperate to stabilize the front, the Tibetan Tsenpo personally traveled to the border, organizing a massive military parade at the Yubiao River.
Stationed in Zhangye, Wang Zhongsi heard the news and smelled blood. This was the opening.
Under darkness, he mobilized an elite strike force of seven hundred heavy cavalry. Channeling the aggressive, deep-strike energy of Huo Qubing, every Tang soldier brought three remounts. Fully armored, they rode into the freezing night.
A thick fog rolled across the Western Regions, but Wang Zhongsi navigated the terrain with precision, pushing his men across three hundred kilometers in a single night.
When the morning fog broke over the Yubiao River, Wang Zhongsi found himself staring point-blank at the Tibetan Tsenpo's royal guard. Twenty thousand elite troops.
Neither side expected to collide this close. The Tang officers panicked. Faced with a sea of enemies, their instinct was to pull back and set up a defensive crossbow perimeter.
Wang Zhongsi was not having it. He roared across the front lines.
"If we step back, they will shoot us until we are wiped out! Nobody moves! Watch me break them!"
Without another word, the General spurred his warhorse, charging alone into the sea of twenty thousand Tibetan soldiers. He hit the enemy line like a freight train, and the Tibetan vanguard lost their minds.
Seeing their commander dive into the meat grinder, the seven hundred Tang cavalry did not hesitate. They threw down their crossbows, drew their steel, and plunged into the breach Wang Zhongsi had carved open.
The Tibetan banners blotted out the sky, their spears formed a dense forest, but nothing could stop Wang Zhongsi. A Tibetan general on a white warhorse tried to rally his lines. Wang Zhongsi effortlessly chopped him off his horse.
At that critical moment, the Tibetan Tsenpo made the same fatal blunder Sun Quan once made. He moved his command banner to higher ground for a better view.
To the terrified Tibetan soldiers on the ground, seeing the royal banner move backward meant only one thing. The Boss is running.
Their morale flatlined. Wang Zhongsi capitalized on the chaos, routing twenty thousand with seven hundred men. They took thousands of heads and erected a towering monument of skulls right there on the battlefield to haunt the region for generations.
Only after the skull pyramid was finished did the seven hundred Tang riders casually herd tens of thousands of captured cattle and sheep back home to Zhangye.
Following that battle, Wang Zhongsi went on an absolute rampage across the frontier.
He shattered the allied armies of the Xi and Khitan tribes, forced thirty-six Khitan clans into submission, and hammered the Tibetan forces so relentlessly that they eventually began avoiding his territory altogether.
His reputation alone stabilized the Western Regions.
Nobody wanted the smoke.
As Emperor Li Longji's adoptive son and one of the military prodigies of the era, Wang Zhongsi was granted enormous imperial trust.
And in return, he delivered one victory after another.
For one brief, shining stretch of history, it genuinely seemed as though Xuanzong and Wang Zhongsi had become the reincarnation of Emperor Wu of Han and Huo Qubing reborn.]
---
Back in Ganlu Hall, Li Shimin's migraine vanished. His leg stopped aching. He shot out of his seat, eyes blazing with fanboy energy as he roared at the screen.
"YES! NOW THAT IS A DIVINE GENERAL OF MY GREAT TANG!"