Li Shimin faked his death? Then I will be powerful enough to conquer the world!

The dusk was like silk soaked in blood, wrapping the ancient walls of Isfahan layer by layer.

Muawiyah stood at the highest point on the city wall, his black cloak rustling in the night wind. The gilded patterns on the scimitar at his waist shone coldly in the setting sun, making the gloom in his eyes even heavier.

The smoke from the Tang army camp in the distance rolled up like thick ink, entwining with the lead-gray clouds, gradually dyeing the entire sky an eerie dark purple.

He gripped the battlements of the city wall tightly, and the rough stone edges left deep blood marks on his palms. Behind those seemingly silent tents, there was clearly a terrifying force lurking that was enough to destroy the entire civilization. Every breeze that blew by brought with it the murderous aura of tens of millions of soldiers.

The military report from three days ago is still ringing in my ears, and the thrilling words between the lines still make me shudder.

Outside the city of Lai, Tang soldiers used oil-soaked oxhide rafts to force their way across the Euphrates River. The surging river water slammed against the rafts, but it could not suppress their shouts.

The sound was so deafening it shook the heavens and earth, even the roaring river stagnated. Even more alarming was the secret report from Shiraz—three thousand Modao warriors, clad in black armor, their six-foot-long Modao blades forming a silvery-white ribbon under the blazing sun, like the Milky Way pouring down upon the world.

When they raised their swords and chopped in unison, the swords flashed so sharply that the circling vultures were blindly pierced by the cold light reflected from the sharp blades and fell to the ground. Even the birds in the sky did not dare to approach this terrifying murderous aura.

At this moment, the two armies were galloping along the thousand-year-old trade route, their iron hooves crushing the earth, and billowing dust and gravel rising into the air, outlining two fangs and claws of yellow dragons in the sky. Wherever they passed, the earth trembled.

The oldest astrologer in the city trembled as he threw his astrolabe to the ground. He pointed his withered finger to the northwest and said in a shrill and desperate voice, "Mars is retrograde. This is a sign of the 'blood comet' that will foretell the destruction of the nation!"

"Caliph, the third section of the defense line has been reinforced!"

The guards' roars pierced through the whistling wind, but they could not dispel the tense atmosphere that permeated the city walls.

Muawiyah looked down at the winding trench beneath his feet. In the three-meter-wide ravine, sharpened date wood stakes grew densely like thorns. The asphalt coated on the ditch wall glowed with a sticky black light in the setting sun.

Craftsmen once proudly said that this line of defense incorporated the most exquisite Persian craftsmanship and could prevent any attacker from returning.

But when he thought of the Tang army's thunder chariots that made the earth tremble, its huge wheels could roll over the ground and throw huge rocks half a mile away. Wherever they went, the city walls collapsed and smoke and dust rose.

There were also arrows fired from crossbows, as thick as a child's arm, with the force of thunder, able to penetrate three layers of rammed earth walls. A feeling of powerlessness welled up in his heart - no matter how sophisticated the defense line was, in front of such a war machine, it was just a sand tower built by a child, and could not withstand a single blow.

"Send the order to keep the defenders along the Tigris River on alert."

Muawiyah turned around suddenly, and the clear sound of his armor colliding was particularly harsh on the silent city wall.

The setting sun lengthened his shadow and cast it on the city wall.

"If the Tang army splits up to attack the port of Basra..."

The voice stopped abruptly, and a dull horn sound came from the west, startling the crows roosting on the city wall. They fluttered into flight, emitting bursts of wailing.

His pupils suddenly shrank as the double-headed eagle flag of the Byzantine Empire slowly emerged in the twilight. The silver eagle pattern on the blood-red satin now looked like a broken wing soaked in blood, fluttering weakly in the wind.

Justinian II climbed the heavy stone steps, his purple cloak trailing behind him, covered in dust, revealing his exhaustion.

Although the double eagle emblem on the golden breastplate was still bright, it could not hide the weariness in his eyes.

The young emperor's eyes swept across the ten-mile-long defense line outside the city and the layers of fortifications.

Finally, his gaze fell on Muawiyah's tense jaw. "It's rumored that the Tang army's horse lances can penetrate three layers of heavy armor?"

There was a deliberately suppressed suspicion in his voice, but it couldn't hide a barely perceptible nervousness, as if he was expecting a negative answer, but was afraid to hear the truth.

Muawiyah stroked the sapphire inlaid on the scimitar, and the scene three months ago replayed itself in his mind like a nightmare.

The captured Tang army scout was escorted to the front of the tent. Although he was covered in blood, he still held his head high and his chest out. The tiger talisman on his waist was still shiny. The four seal characters "开疆转地" were as powerful as swords, revealing a domineering aura that no one else could do it better than him.

"Their hail of arrows could blot out the midday sun." His voice was mixed with the wind and sand.

"Back then, the 20,000 Tang troops allowed my vanguard to dye the river red in three days and three nights."

"Survivors said that the arrows floating on the battlefield were denser than fallen autumn leaves."

The tragic scene is chilling.

Justinian II's Adam's apple rolled, and the portrait of his father Heraclius I appeared in his mind.

The great emperor who had repelled Persia and restored the glory of Rome was full of vigor and had made great military achievements.

However, they were eventually defeated on the banks of the Yarmouk River and were defeated by the Arab hero in front of them.

At this moment, the man who made his father hate him actually looked solemn because of an Eastern army, which made him feel a chill in his heart.

"The French envoy said that their palaces were built with colored glaze and even children could recite the Analects."

The young emperor's voice was filled with stubbornness, trying to find some comfort in the beautiful appearance. "How can such a country be so keen on war?"

Muawiyah suddenly burst into laughter, which was full of helplessness and sadness, and startled the night owl so much that it fluttered out from the cracks in the city wall.

He pointed to the east. The clouds were already glowing red from the campfire, as if the whole sky was on fire.

"Why do you think the Tang army embarked on this long expedition? They had movable type printing presses on their chariots, but they used them to print Sun Tzu's Art of War!"

"Their bags contained tea and silk, but they also contained cannonballs that could reduce a city to ashes in an instant!"

His fingers slid heavily across the eagle emblem on Justinian II's chest, as if to carve the cruel reality into his heart. "When their warships appear in the harbor of Constantinople, you will understand—what is more terrifying than the Roman legions is the civilization that turns war into an art!"

The sound was heart-shaking.

Night fell completely over the land, and Justinian II stood alone on the city wall. The lights of the Tang army camp in the distance fell like stars. Through the flickering light, the faint reverberation of horses neighing and ceremonial drums drifted in. The rhythm was like the heartbeat of death, hammering at his nerves again and again.

He subconsciously stroked the sword passed down from his father, and the sword suddenly reflected a strange light - not moonlight, but a signal rocket rising from the Tang army camp, piercing the night sky with a long tail of fire and blooming into a golden peony.

Petal-shaped sparks fell like a death notice from the gods, illuminating his pale face.

"Will it really be more powerful than Rome..."

The whispers dissipated in the wind. He was unaware that the mysterious weapons, known to the Easterners as "Divine Fire Flying Crows," lay quietly within the Tang army's armory.

When the first ray of sunlight at dawn breaks through the clouds, these arrows wrapped in tung oil and linen will come roaring in with blazing flames, allowing the entire West Asian continent to see what it means to "shoot thousands of arrows at once like the Milky Way pouring down."