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

In the late spring of the fourth year of Yonghui, the surging waves of the Adriatic Sea, carrying the smell of sulfur, beat against the charred walls of Dyrrachium.

The catapults of the Byzantine defenders on the city wall were still roaring, and burning asphalt fireballs streaked across the sky, exploding scarlet flames on the Tang army's position.

Thick smoke obscured half the sky, making the bloody setting sun look even more eerie. The air was filled with the pungent smell of burnt flesh and gunpowder.

There were piles of corpses under the city wall, including fragments of Tang army's black armor and broken chain mail of Byzantine soldiers. The blood-soaked mud made a disgusting trampling sound under the horses' hooves.

Wu Tianyan stood on the top of the siege tower. His bronze wristband was still stained with blood from the fierce battle the day before. The dark red bloodstains glowed black and purple in the sunlight.

He squinted his eyes and looked at the soldiers climbing the ladders. Those brave Tang soldiers were attacking the crumbling city walls with their flesh and blood, under rain of arrows and boiling oil.

A soldier's shield was hit by a fireball and instantly caught fire. He screamed and fell from the ladder. There was a dull thud when he hit the ground, but no one had time to pay attention.

Suddenly, the sound of rapid horse hooves pierced through the smoke.

The herald's horse was covered in blood and foaming at the mouth. It fell to the ground under the tower, neighing, and splashing a cloud of blood and mud.

The young man dismounted, his black armor dented and deformed in places. The bright yellow scroll in his arms was particularly glaring under the blood-red setting sun: "Order of the Emperor of the Great Tang!"

His voice was hoarse from the long journey, and his sharp voice cut through the clamor of the battlefield.

Wu Tianyan's fingertips touched the edge of the imperial edict soaked with rainwater. He didn't know whether it was the spring rain in Chang'an or the sweat of the young man who traveled thousands of miles.

&34;Stop all fighting.&34;

The moment the words reached my ears, the whole world seemed to suddenly become silent.

Wu Tianyan heard a familiar roar coming from not far away - Deputy General Li Xiao was wielding a Mo Dao to split the enemy's shield, and the flying brain matter bloomed like red plums on the bronze armor, while the soldiers behind him were forming a human wall with their shields, and stubbornly withstanding the boiling asphalt poured down by the defenders.

Screams and the crackling of burning flames once again flooded into the ears. The flag of the Roman Empire behind the battlements of the city wall was faintly visible in the thick smoke, like the last struggle of a dying man.

……

&34;I implore the general to reconsider!&34;

Li Xiao rushed forward, covered in blood, the wound on his face still oozing blood. "The west gate has cracked. It only takes half an hour... half an hour for us to level this city!"

There was a crazy fighting spirit burning in his eyes, but it suddenly went out when he touched the imperial edict in Wu Tianyan's hand.

Before he finished speaking, Wu Tianyan had already slammed the imperial edict against his breastplate. The sound of metal collision was mixed with suppressed sobs: "Look carefully, this is the will of His Majesty!"

The cinnabar imperial seal at the end of the edict looked like a solidified blood scab in the twilight, reflecting the beacon fire that was about to go out in the distance.

When the retreat horn sounded, the entire battlefield erupted in suppressed wails.

A young soldier cried loudly while holding the body of his brother who died in the battle. His tears mixed with blood seeped into the scorched earth beneath his feet. Other soldiers angrily smashed their weapons to the ground, and the sparks that flew up disappeared in an instant.

At the same time, thousands of miles away in the Taiji Palace in Chang'an, a drama of power transfer was taking place.

Li Zhi was wearing a dragon robe woven with gold thread, and the twelve chapter patterns embroidered with gold thread sparkled in the candlelight.

The nobles of the post-Roman Empire knelt with hunched backs on the cold marble floor. Their gorgeous clothes had long lost their luster, and their jewel-studded crowns were thrown aside casually.

&34;From this day forward, the post-Roman Empire ceases to exist.&34;

Li Zhi's voice echoed in the empty hall, and the flames on the gilded candlesticks flickered. "I will divide this land in the west into twelve principalities, each with a vassal king."

Before he finished speaking, suppressed sobs were heard from the crowd.

The representative of the Later Roman Empire took the edict with trembling hands. The silver thread on the edge of the parchment scratched his fingertips, and blood dripped onto the words "half of the national treasury will be donated to the Tang Dynasty every year."

He suddenly coughed violently, and the blood foam that seeped out from between his fingers splashed on the word "vassal state" on the edict.

Muawiyah, the de facto leader of the Arab coalition, was stroking the ruby-encrusted scimitar at his waist in the flickering candlelight.

The blade reflected his gloomy face. It was this knife that had cut off the head of the Tang army's vanguard.

When Justinian looked at him, the Caliph said calmly: "Your Majesty, at least we are still alive."

His thoughts returned to that tragic war.

The 100,000-strong coalition army collapsed like autumn leaves under the impact of the Tang Army's Black Armor Army. The Euphrates River was blocked by floating corpses and stopped flowing for three days. The stench made the vultures circling in the sky unwilling to land.

On the battlefield, the Arab warriors' scimitars collided fiercely with the Tang army's Mo Dao, and the blood dyed the entire desert red.

Finally, when the Tang army's battle flag was planted in the coalition camp, Muawiyah knew that only by seeking peace could he preserve his strength.

Outside the city of Duratium, Wu Tianyan stroked the sword at his waist as the horns of the Tang army's camp were sounded.

This weapon, which had accompanied him through Persepolis and across the Mesopotamian region, now made an unwilling humming sound because it had not drunk all the enemy's blood.

He recalled the grand scene of the people of Chang'an lining the streets to see him off when he set out on the expedition, and the flower petals thrown by the dancers falling on the shoulders of the soldiers. No one had thought at that time that this Western Expedition would triple the territory of the Tang Dynasty, and no one foresaw that every inch of new soil would be soaked with the blood and tears of the soldiers.

When a soldier was packing his bag, he took out a letter from home from his pocket. The handwriting of his mother on the letter paper was blurred by tears.

The letter read: "Don't worry, my son. Everything is fine at home. I just hope you will return home soon."

&34;But now, the war ended suddenly, and his brother stayed in this distant land forever.

In the Chang'an court, the debate about the governance of the western border became increasingly fierce.

Minister of Revenue Li Yifu shook the account book, his voice filled with tears: "Your Majesty, just to maintain the garrison in Constantinople, we need to consume 300,000 pieces of silk and 1 million dan of grain every year!"

"Not to mention the expenses of building post stations and pacifying refugees... the national treasury is already overwhelmed!"

Wei Zheng's great-great-grandson risked his life to make a suggestion.

"The western border is now thousands of miles long. Forcible rule may lead to civil unrest!"

Li Zhi suddenly slammed the table and stood up, and the Western Region luminous cup on the imperial table shattered.

"I will let the flags of the Tang Dynasty fly wherever the sun and moon shine! How can the foundation of the Tang Dynasty be eroded in my hands?"

There was a fanatical glint in his eyes, and he saw only a vast empire unprecedented in history.

Muawiyah was teaching his son Zid.

The campfire cast his shadow on the rock wall. "Look at this desert," he grabbed a handful of hot sand and let it flow slowly through his fingers.

"The surface is calm, but underneath lies a quicksand trap."

"The larger the territory of the Tang Dynasty, the more cracks there will be."

"Persian survivors still secretly worship Zoroastrianism, Arab slaves curse Han Chinese rule in the mines, and Byzantine nobles hide their heirloom icons in cellars..."

He pointed eastward, his eyes burning with the flames of revenge: "The emperor of the Tang Dynasty will not remain so wise and powerful forever."

"That's our homeland. One day you'll have to take it back. If you don't have the chance, your son will go."

"My Arab Empire cannot survive forever."

"Remember, patience is the sharpest blade of the Sons of the Desert. We just need to wait, wait for the moment when the giant beast of the Tang Dynasty reveals a flaw."

As night fell, the walls of Dyrrachium glowed a cold gray in the moonlight.

Wu Tianyan looked at the sea in the distance, where there seemed to be countless pairs of eyes flashing in the darkness.

He knew that this so-called peace was just the calm before the storm.

Although the flag of the Tang Dynasty was planted on the land of the western border, the fire of resistance had already quietly spread to every corner.

If the country is not destroyed and the race is not exterminated, these people will become a great threat in the future.