That journey from Rongzhou to Luoyang and then back to Chang'an covered over ten thousand miles. It was brutal. Mud, rain, bad roads, and enough misery to make anyone reconsider government service.
But it also changed a man.
Wang Xuance followed his guide through the maze of streets in the imperial city. They bypassed the outer admin buildings and headed straight for the palace grounds. His body was tired, but his stomach was tied in knots.
The Emperor wanted to see him.
He'd imagined this moment plenty of times. During that miserable trek to the southern swamps, he'd passed the time reading the Records of the Three Kingdoms.
One quote stuck with him.
Taishi Ci said a man born into chaos should carry a seven-foot sword, climb the steps of the Emperor, and forge a legacy.
Wang Xuance loved that quote.
Problem was, his actual resume was pathetic. He'd done nothing noteworthy in Rongzhou. No powerful family backing him. No famous teachers. No achievements worth mentioning.
He was a nobody.
So why was the Emperor summoning him?
His thoughts were spiraling, which made the long walk feel way too short. Before he could even prepare an opening line, the armored guards stepped aside. Their hands rested on their sword hilts. They nodded toward the massive wooden doors.
"Go in."
Inside, Li Shimin heard the footsteps and turned away from his desk. He looked at the young bureaucrat, noticed the deep tan on his face, and smiled.
"So, you're Wang Xuance?"
Wang Xuance dropped into a deep bow, hands crossed over his chest.
"The Deputy Magistrate of Huangshui County in Rongzhou pays his respects to Your Majesty."
Li Shimin studied him.
Young. Healthy. Clean background. No political baggage.
And look at that. Not shaking. Most low-ranking officials practically wet themselves the first time they stand before the throne.
This one? Calm.
The kid's got a spine.
Perhaps... worth cultivating personally. See what he could become.
He felt the itch. The urge to test this raw material.
The Tang Dynasty already had plenty of brilliant generals. But I've never been one to say no to more talent.
"Tell me about Rongzhou," Li Shimin said casually.
Wang Xuance immediately understood it was a test.
He steadied himself and replied, "Rongzhou's biggest challenge is transportation, Your Majesty. The roads are difficult, many settlements are isolated, and local administration often struggles to reach the more remote communities."
Li Shimin nodded.
"And the people?"
"They are hardworking. Most concerns revolve around flooding, harvest stability, and access to medicine. Since the court expanded medical services, local sentiment has improved considerably."
"Mm."
The Emperor tapped the desk lightly.
"What about Jiaozhi?"
Wang Xuance blinked.
The question came so suddenly that it almost caught him off guard.
"Jiaozhi, Your Majesty?"
Li Shimin smiled.
"Have I asked something impossible?"
"No, Your Majesty."
Wang Xuance gathered his thoughts.
"Jiaozhi sits at the southern edge of our influence. Trade is valuable there, but direct control is difficult. Distance favors local interests."
"Good."
Li Shimin immediately moved on.
"The Western Regions."
Wang Xuance felt a headache forming.
"The Western Regions control access to the Silk Road, Your Majesty. Whoever secures them gains influence over merchants moving between east and west."
"What about maintaining supply lines?"
"Difficult. Distance alone creates enormous costs."
Li Shimin seemed pleased.
Then another question came.
"The Indian kingdoms. Tianzhu, as some call it."
Wang Xuance hesitated.
"I know only what I've read in reports, Your Majesty."
"Then tell me what you've read."
"The region appears wealthy, fragmented, and heavily influenced by Buddhism. The current ruler, King Harsha, has been friendly toward us. He sent an ambassador to our court a few years ago."
Li Shimin nodded thoughtfully.
"And Goguryeo?"
That one nearly made Wang Xuance groan.
He had barely finished discussing India.
"Goguryeo possesses strong fortifications and difficult terrain, Your Majesty. Any campaign there would face serious logistical challenges."
"Only logistical challenges?" Li Shimin asked.
Wang Xuance carefully chose his next words.
"And stubborn enemies. They've held out against expeditions for generations. The Sui learned that lesson the hard way."
That earned a laugh. For a moment, the atmosphere relaxed.
Then Li Shimin pointed at another section of the map.
"Liuqiu."
"The island to the southeast, Your Majesty?"
"The same."
Wang Xuance frowned.
"I know little beyond merchant reports, Your Majesty. It's remote, humid, and expensive to reach. The locals don't answer to any central authority. Most of our people don't even know it exists."
Li Shimin chuckled.
"An honest answer."
Before Wang Xuance could celebrate surviving that exchange, the Emperor continued.
"Japan."
Wang Xuance stared.
"The country across the eastern sea, Your Majesty?"
"The same."
Wang Xuance took a breath.
"They sent their first embassy to us in 630, I believe. Your Majesty received them personally. Since then... we've exchanged diplomatic missions. The relationship is still new, but they seem genuinely interested in learning from us."
Li Shimin smiled.
"You've done your reading."
Wang Xuance released a slow breath.
"At this rate, Your Majesty, I'm discovering that it doesn't extend nearly as far as yours."
That answer seemed to amuse Li Shimin even more.
"Good."
The Emperor leaned forward.
"A man who knows the limits of his knowledge can still learn. The ones who worry me are those who think they already know everything."
Wang Xuance was completely out of his depth. He answered as best he could. Educated guesses. Logical deductions. Some answers were just desperate.
Li Shimin noticed the young man sweating and chuckled. He abandoned the quiz, grabbed a giant rolled-up map, and spread it across the desk.
Wang Xuance froze.
The map was enormous. And terrifyingly detailed. Mountain ranges. River systems. Trade routes. Kingdoms he'd only heard mentioned in obscure records. Regions so distant that most people considered them legends.
Li Shimin spent the next hour explaining it. Patiently. Methodically. Like a teacher lecturing a student.
When he finished, Wang Xuance felt like an entirely new world had been shoved into his head.
Then the Emperor started the interrogation again. The second round was even worse.
By the end, Wang Xuance looked like he was about to collapse.
That was when Li Shimin leaned forward and dropped the bomb.
"Do you want to be a general?"
Wang Xuance stared.
Leading armies. Expanding borders. Earning titles through bloodshed. Carving his name into history. A few hours ago, that was a kid's fantasy.
Now the Emperor of China was dangling it right in front of his face.
He swallowed hard. Raised his hands in another bow.
"Your Majesty, forgive my insolence. I have one question."
Li Shimin nodded.
Wang Xuance pointed at the map. "How can this possibly be real?"
Because he genuinely couldn't understand it. He'd just spent months walking ten thousand miles. He knew how vast the world was. Yet this map showed distant lands with insane precision.
How?
Li Shimin smiled mysteriously.
"If I told you the truth, you wouldn't believe me." He shook his head. "Instead of wasting my breath, stay in Chang'an for half a month. When the time comes, you'll understand everything."
Wang Xuance was escorted out, completely bewildered.
Halfway back to the courier station, he suddenly realized something.
He'd never actually answered the question.
Did he want to be a general?
The Emperor had asked. He'd forgotten to respond.
For a moment, he considered turning around. Then he gave up. The Emperor had ordered him to wait. So he'd wait.
But walking through the bustling streets of Chang'an, his thoughts kept returning to that map.
If it was accurate, the world was impossibly vast. The mighty Tang Dynasty occupied only a fraction of it. There were thousands of strange nations out there in the fog.
Could one general conquer all of it in a single lifetime?
A strange ambition bloomed in his chest. Suddenly, the busy streets of Chang'an looked boring.
For the first time in his life, Wang Xuance found himself looking beyond the empire's borders.
---
On the other side of the capital, the legendary Medicine King Sun Simiao was having a rare moment of appreciation for the city.
Most days, he complained about the city constantly. It was crowded, noisy, dusty, and packed with nobles who seemed to believe that waving enough gold around could cure any illness.
In Sun Simiao's opinion, half the aristocracy suffered from a severe medical condition called having too much free time.
Go away, he always wanted to say. I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker.
Still, Chang'an had its advantages.
If he needed rare herbs, the markets had them.
If he wanted exotic ingredients, Silk Road merchants brought them straight to his doorstep.
If he needed ancient medical texts, the imperial archives were open to him.
And if he dreamed up some bizarre medical instrument at midnight, the craftsmen from the Directorate of Imperial Manufactories would probably build it before breakfast.
For a physician obsessed with research, it was difficult to complain too much.
Well, not too much.
Fine, he admitted. Maybe the place isn't completely terrible.
Lately, most of his time had been divided between teaching at the Medical Academy and treating two very important patients personally assigned to him by Li Shimin.
One was Empress Zhangsun.
The other was Qin Qiong.
The Empress required careful attention.
Qin Qiong required a miracle.
The famous heavy cavalry commander had been bedridden for nearly a year.
Before Sun Simiao arrived, the consensus among the capital's physicians had been grim. Most had quietly concluded that the old general was running out of time. Their treatments consisted mainly of expensive tonics, complicated prescriptions, and vague optimism.
Tonics, Sun Simiao thought. For a rotting intestine. Brilliant.
What's next? Herbal tea for a severed leg? Acupuncture for a crushed skull? Might as well pour it directly into the grave and save everyone the trouble.
He wasn't surprised, though. Qin Qiong had spent his whole life charging into the meat grinder. Over two hundred major battles. Always the vanguard. His body was a map of scar tissue.
The old veterans loved to boast. Said he'd bled several hu of blood in his career.
Sun Simiao did the math. One hu would require draining four grown men dry.
So either the veterans are terrible at counting, or Qin Qiong is secretly a river spirit disguised as a general.
He snorted. My money's on the veterans being wrong.
Ignoring the terrified gasps of the imperial doctors hovering behind him, Sun Simiao finished his examination.
The family immediately gathered around him. "Master Sun, how is the Duke? Can he still be saved? What's his condition?"
He didn't sugarcoat it. "We need to cut him open."
"Cut him open?" One family member nearly dropped his cup. Another looked ready to faint. "What kind of treatment is that? The worst? On the Duke of Eguo? Are you trying to kill him?"
Another chimed in, "It's just old war wounds! Just give him herbs!"
Sun Simiao had zero bedside manner. He packed up his kit. "You want herbs? Fine. The herb is called a knife. Don't worry, he'll be fine. After I cut his abdomen open."
The room erupted. Cut open one of the greatest heroes of the dynasty? Absolutely not. There had to be herbs. Medicinal soups. Rare roots. Secret formulas. Anything except slicing him open.
Sun Simiao listened for about ten seconds. Then he picked up his medical kit.
"If you're refusing treatment, there's nothing more to discuss."
"Surgery is the final answer," Sun Simiao confirmed. "And we must do it immediately."
The family panicked. "Master Sun, wait!"
"No."
"Perhaps another prescription?"
"No."
"Maybe a stronger tonic?"
"No."
"Master Sun—"
"No."
The negotiations collapsed instantly. Sun Simiao had many virtues. Bedside diplomacy was not one of them.
The standoff dragged on until Li Shimin finally heard about it.
After learning that the empire's greatest physician and one of its greatest generals were locked in a contest of mutual stubbornness, the Emperor solved the problem the way emperors usually did.
He issued an imperial edict. The surgery would proceed. No further discussion.
A few days later, Sun Simiao opened Qin Qiong's abdomen.
The imperial physicians helping with the operation looked like they were about to collapse.
"Master Sun," one stammered, "how are you so calm? This is a human body. Are your nerves made of steel?"
Another whispered to his colleague, his face pale, "Maybe this job isn't for me, guys. I think I preferred counting herbs."
Sun Simiao didn't even glance up. He located the damaged section of intestine, removed the dead tissue, joined the healthy ends together, and stitched everything carefully back into place.
Then came the recovery. Strict diet. Strict rest. No arguments. No exceptions.
The famous general who had survived hundreds of battles spent weeks living on food so bland it probably qualified as a punishment.
Qin Qiong swore he saw his rice porridge stare back at him once.
But it worked.
The color returned to Qin Qiong's face.
His strength slowly returned.
For the first time in months, people stopped preparing for his funeral.
During a follow-up chat with Li Shimin, Sun Simiao voiced his frustration.
"Your Majesty, when you go to war, you have brilliant strategists, fearless soldiers, and the best armor." He sighed. "But a competent doctor? Somehow that never makes the list."
He wiped his hands.
"The Treatise on the Pathogenesis and Manifestations of All Diseases discusses abdominal trauma clearly." He tapped the table for emphasis. "If the intestines are damaged, they must be stitched properly with silk thread. Afterwards, the patient requires thin rice porridge for weeks. No solid food for an extended period."
He pointed toward Qin Qiong's estate.
"Qin Qiong's condition was avoidable."
Sun Simiao folded his arms. "Either the battlefield physicians stitched him incorrectly years ago, or someone ignored medical instructions and started eating meat far too early."
The old doctor snorted. "My money's on the second option."
Li Shimin immediately pictured Qin Qiong sneaking roasted lamb the moment no one was looking. Honestly? He could almost see it.
Li Shimin rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
His mind drifted back to the light screen. That massive glowing rectangle in Ganlu Hall. The strange videos from the future.
He remembered one scene clearly. Soldiers without weapons. No spears. No swords. Just... running. Through smoke. Through explosions. Dragging wounded men to safety. Bandaging injuries right behind the front lines while bullets flew overhead.
At the time, he'd been confused. What kind of army sends men into battle without weapons?
Now he understood.
They weren't there to fight. They were there to save.
That's it, he realized. That's what we've been missing.
He knew warfare. Had studied it his whole life. The old texts. Spring-Autumn strategies. Wei-Jin formations. He knew how to organize soldiers, deploy cavalry, position archers.
But those light screen soldiers? They did something completely different.
What if...
He looked at Sun Simiao. The old doctor was still grumbling about incompetent battlefield medics.
What if I combine both?
He leaned forward, eyes shining.
"Master Sun."
Sun Simiao stopped mid-grumble. "...What?"
"What if we created a special medical unit?"
The old doctor blinked. "A what?"
"A dedicated medical corps. Under the Court of Imperial Sacrifices." Li Shimin was already talking faster. "We recruit civilian doctors. Train them in trauma surgery. Disease control. Emergency treatment."
Sun Simiao stared at him.
"During campaigns, they follow the main army. No spears. No frontlines. Their only job? Drag the wounded off the field. Keep them alive."
The old doctor opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"Your Majesty," he said slowly, "are you asking me to design an army medical corps?"
"I'm asking for your opinion. Would it work?"
Sun Simiao was stunned. He was an old doctor. He healed people. He didn't build armies.
Why is the Emperor asking me this?
He thought about it. Really thought about it.
The wounded died needlessly. Always had. Always would. Unless someone did something about it.
"...It could work," he said finally.
Li Shimin's eyes lit up.
"But." Sun Simiao raised a finger. "You'd need entirely new military laws."
"Explain."
"Soldiers earn rewards for killing enemies. Doctors don't kill enemies. So how do you reward them?"
Li Shimin paused. That was a good point.
"You'd need a system that rewards lives saved instead of enemies killed," Sun Simiao continued. "Promotions based on survival rates. Bonuses for successful surgeries. Something like that."
He shrugged.
"But I'm no good at writing legal codes. I heal people. I don't draft laws."
Li Shimin burst out laughing.
"Fair enough." The Emperor waved a hand. "Don't worry about the paperwork. I'll lock the Supreme Court and the Medical Academy in a room together. They'll figure it out. Or I'll kick their asses if they don't come up with something good."
Sun Simiao sighed with relief.
Thank the heavens. Leave the politics to the politicians.
---
For Li Shimin, reforming the medical corps was just a side project. Interesting, sure. Useful, absolutely. But it wasn't what kept him awake at night.
What kept him awake was the light screen.
The next broadcast was coming. The mysterious narrator had teased the topic, and Li Shimin had spent days trying to figure it out. Based on the clues, he was almost certain it would feature his core group of Zhenguan veterans.
Which means I need to choose the viewing party carefully.
He pulled out a sheet of paper and started writing names.
Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui were mandatory. No question. His most trusted advisors. Du Ruhui would be the scribe, frantically writing down every word before it vanished from the screen.
The two Yan brothers, Liben and Lide, were also essential. Their artistic skills were unmatched. They could memorize bizarre images and sketch them out later for the archives.
Speaking of which.
Earlier that month, Yan Liben had proudly presented Li Shimin with a beautifully bound illustrated manuscript. He'd taken Du Ruhui's transcripts from the last broadcast and matched them with his own paintings. The result was stunning.
Li Shimin praised the artwork. Gave Yan Liben a huge bonus. Then immediately locked the book in a guarded vault.
He refused to open it.
Just looking at the title on the cover gave him a headache.
It read: From the Disaster of the Aristocratic Families to the An Lushan Rebellion.
Nope, he thought. Not reading that. Not today. Not ever, if I can help it.
He knew reading about his empire's future collapse would trigger a migraine that no amount of herbal tea could cure.
Moving down the guest list.
Zhangsun Wuji was a lock. The man was family, brilliant, and knew how to keep secrets.
Qin Qiong, now recovered, definitely needed to be wheeled in. The old general had earned that seat with his blood.
Generals Li Jing and Li Ji had just destroyed the Eastern Turkic Khaganate last year. They were essential consultants if the broadcast discussed military matters.
He also remembered his promise to that young bureaucrat, Wang Xuance. The one with the spine. He'd told the kid to wait half a month. The light screen was the reason.
And Sun Simiao, he added to the list. The old doctor is revolutionizing my army. He deserves to see what else the future has in store.
Li Shimin counted the names in his head.
Fang Xuanling. Du Ruhui. Yan Liben. Yan Lide. Zhangsun Wuji. Qin Qiong. Li Jing. Li Ji. Wang Xuance. Sun Simiao.
Ten people.
The secret viewing room behind Ganlu Hall was going to be packed.
He wiped sweat from his forehead.
Thank goodness I sent Hou Junji to the Hexi Corridor.
The man was brilliant but volatile. A loose cannon. Having him in the room during a broadcast about the future? That was asking for trouble.
And Cheng Zhijie. The loud, chaotic general was currently stuck managing civil affairs down in Luzhou. Good. Keep him there. The man couldn't sit still for five minutes, let alone through an entire light screen broadcast.
Keeping those two troublemakers out of the room was a blessing.
Li Shimin set down his brush and leaned back.
Ten people. All brilliant. All loyal. All capable of handling whatever the future threw at them.
He smiled.
The Zhenguan era really does have too much talent.
It was a good problem to have.
---
While Li Shimin celebrated his overflowing roster of geniuses, hundreds of years in the future, the founding Emperor of the Song Dynasty was drowning in terror.
Zhao Kuangyin couldn't find peace. The closer it got to the three-month deadline, the more his heart raced.
He wanted an escape. He wanted the deadline to pass in silence. If the screen didn't show up, he could declare the last event a hallucination. A cruel prank. A temporary breakdown.
But if that glowing rectangle appeared right on schedule? That meant the nightmare was real. Every horrible thing the narrator said was an undeniable fact.
It meant his glorious Song Dynasty was destined to become a pathetic, cowardly joke.
Unable to handle the suffocating presence of his court officials, Zhao Kuangyin ordered the imperial garden cleared. He dismissed everyone. Even his trusted eunuchs. Even his personal guards.
"Leave," he said. "All of you."
They hesitated. He glared. They left.
He sat alone at a cold stone table in the middle of the garden. Hands clenched into fists. Staring at the empty sky.
Waiting.
Praying for nothing to happen.
The sun moved across the horizon. Shadows grew longer. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance. A normal afternoon. A peaceful afternoon.
Maybe it's over, he thought. Maybe the screen only appears once. Maybe I worried for nothing.
He almost smiled.
Then the air changed.
He felt it before he saw it. A pressure. A weight. Like the sky itself was holding its breath.
Zhao Kuangyin's smile vanished.
He looked up.
Nothing.
Then—
A blinding rectangle of light ripped through the clouds above the garden.
Right on schedule.
Zhao Kuangyin closed his eyes. Let out a shaky breath. Forced himself to look.
The light screen was there. Glowing. Hovering. Waiting.
Here we go again, he thought.
His hands were shaking. His heart was pounding. But he didn't look away.
[Lightscreen]
[From the God of War of the Great Tang to the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King: How Did Li Wei Gong Ascend to Godhood?]