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

In Luoyang City, where Changshou had lived for two years, the autumn wind was blowing the clear waves of the Luo River against the embankment. The sound of the bronze bells in the Mingtang spread for three thousand miles in the twilight, but it could not dispel the scent of war smoke that was urgently sent from the northwest border.

The eight hundred li horse trampled the morning frost on the Tianjin Bridge. When the postman rolled over, the ice on his armor splashed on the gold bricks of the Ziwei Palace and instantly melted into a pool of dark water - the wolf flag of the Western Turks had swept across the Jinshan Mountain, the yak formation of the Tibetans was rolling over the source of the river, the cavalry of the Later Turks drank water from the Yellow River, and the arrows of the Shiwei penetrated the beacon tower of Yingzhou.

"The Four-Nation Alliance?" Wu Zhao threw the report onto the dragon table, causing the malachite pen washer on the gilded pen holder to buzz.

Her fingertips ran across the border line marked with cinnabar on the map. There was a large area of ​​territory that Emperor Qianwu had once circled with a jade sceptre, but now it looked like a bone gnawed by wild dogs, revealing jagged teeth marks.

Twelve bronze mirrors were hung between the beams and pillars of the Mingtang, reflecting her shadow into twelve, and the same fire was burning in each shadow.

"Your Majesty, please calm down." When Di Renjie came out, the jade belt of his court dress hit the bronze crane lamp, making a clear sound.

"The Western Turkic Khan Sibi sent an envoy to pledge allegiance just last year, and the Tibetan king even accepted the title bestowed upon our dynasty by Princess Jincheng. Yet, the ink of these barbaric alliance letters hasn't even dried yet, and yet..."

“You’re actually imitating the Zhongshan wolf?”

Wu Zhao sneered, and the pearl curtains on her phoenix crown rustled. "I want to ask, who gave them the courage?"

The breathing sounds in the hall suddenly became lighter.

The crunching sound of the ministers' boots rolling over the floor tiles, mixed with the sound of the wind rising outside the window, seemed like some kind of ominous omen.

Everyone remembers that when Wu Zhao ascended the throne, white banners were hung at the Vermillion Bird Gate of the Ziwei Palace for three months - not to mourn the late emperor, but to burn memorials from the old ministers of the aristocratic families who opposed the "Wu Zhou Revolution."

At that time, envoys from various countries were vying to pave the ground of Tianjin Bridge with gold, just to ask for a letter to meet the new emperor.

"Your Majesty," Minister of War Wu Tianyan suddenly kowtowed, "I submit to battle!" He lifted the hem of his court robe, revealing a hideous scar on his left leg—one left from the campaign against the Japanese pirates. "With the Modao Battalion under my command, we can pacify the northern desert in three months!"

But Wu Zhao didn't look at him.

"Remember the reign of Emperor Qianwu?"

She suddenly spoke, and her voice echoed strangely through the chimes hanging from the beams.

Speaking of Emperor Qianwu, everyone raised their chests.

"He always talked about 'pacifying the people with virtue and culture,' and distributed the land of the four Anxi towns to the tribes, allowing them to grow barley and raise cattle and sheep on their own."

"The results of it?"

The shadows in the bronze mirror suddenly overlapped, like the rise and fall of countless dynasties flashing in an instant.

General Han Sizhong's hand on the hilt of the sword suddenly tightened, and his knuckles turned white - his father had died in the battle of Tubo, and his body was still buried under the frozen soil of Tubo.

He was only twelve years old that year, and watched as the Tibetans whipped the Tang army's flagpole in half.

"Convey my will."

"Propagate my decree. Declare war on Tubo, declare war on Western Turks, declare war on Western Turks, declare war on Shiwei!"

Wu Zhao slowly stood up. Twelve bronze mirrors focused the sunlight into a single point, which fell on the sun, moon, mountains and rivers embroidered on her dragon robe. "Han Sizhong led the left guard and the imperial troops out of Hexi and attacked the Tibetan city of Luoshui."

"Wang Xiaojie led the Right Imperial Guard north through Yanmen Pass to engage the Later Turks."

"Li Duozuo led the Leopard Cavalry Battalion eastward to Yingzhou and strangled the Shiwei."

Then he ordered Su Qingjie, the grandson of Su Dingfang, to lead light cavalry to harass the royal court of Western Turkic.

She paused, her eyes sweeping across the courtiers standing solemnly below. "Tell them, I don't want captives, I don't want tribute, I just want the skulls of the rebels, to be piled up into four Jingguans."

When the decree was announced, the weapons workshop in Luoyang City suddenly became bustling.

The sound of the blacksmiths swinging their hammers caused ripples on the Luo River, and the well water used for quenching rose three feet in three days - it was heated by the boiling swords and guns.

The Sinong Temple, which was in charge of food and fodder, discovered that the corn in the warehouse was enough to feed the 100,000-strong army for three years. The newly made Ming Guang armor in the armor warehouse could reflect people's shadows, and even the cold light on the Mo Dao was sharper than in previous years.

"General, this is an arrow passed down from my ancestors."

A bearded captain was handing Wang Xiaojie a feathered arrow with the Zhenguan era engraved on the shaft. "My grandfather said that when he was fighting the Turks with General Li Jing, he used this arrow to pierce Jie Li Khan's golden wolf flag."

Wang Xiaojie took the arrow and found that there was still dark red rust on the arrowhead, like coagulated blood.

In September in the Hexi Corridor, Han Sizhong's army was marching on the fallen leaves of the Populus euphratica forest.

The Tibetan scouts hid behind the sea buckthorn bushes and saw the word "Tang" embroidered on the Tang army's flag. They couldn't help but sneer - they heard that the new emperor in Luoyang City had changed his surname and even the country's name to "Zhou". These soldiers were probably still living in a dream.

They didn't know that those soldiers carrying Mo Dao had a wooden plaque engraved with "Tang Dynasty" hidden in their boots. It was a relic they received from their fathers or grandfathers.

When the Tibetan king's yak formation collided with the Tang army's Modao wall, a blood-red color suddenly rose between heaven and earth.

Han Sizhong reined in his warhorse and watched the Tibetan soldiers covered in yak skins fall down like grass being cut. The crisp sound of the Mo Dao chopping bones reminded him of the sound of camel bells he heard when he was a child in the Anxi Protectorate.

A Tibetan nobleman rushed over with a gold-inlaid scimitar, and was shot through the throat by him with an arrow. When the man fell off his horse, half a piece of uneaten wheat cake fell from his arms - that was wheat grown with seeds given by the Tang Dynasty as a reward last year.

In the wind and snow of Mobei, Wang Xiaojie's army was breaking ice to water their horses.

The cavalry of the Western Turks rushed forward on the ice, the sound of their horses' hooves like beating drums, but they suddenly stopped a hundred steps away from the Tang army - they saw a row of wooden stakes standing in front of the Tang army, and a head was nailed on each stake. Those were the Turkish nobles captured a few days ago.

"Tell you, Khan," Wang Xiaojie's voice, like snowflakes, hit him. "This is the fate of betraying the Tang Dynasty!"

The most brutal battle took place in Yingzhou.

The rain of arrows from the Shiwei people covered the sky, but Li Duozuo ordered his soldiers to take off their armor and charge bare-chested. "Let them see the scars on our chests!"

He roared and ripped open his clothes, revealing a crescent-shaped scar on his left chest - it was left when he followed Xue Rengui to conquer Liaodong.

The shouts of the Tang army shook the snow off the branches. The Shiwei shaman was dancing a blessing dance when he was nailed to the altar by a flying Tang army spear.

This war brought an unprecedented nightmare to these barbarians.

In nine months, all four countries were defeated.

It didn't even last a year. What a bullshit Great Zhou! This is clearly the undefeated Tang army of the past.

In this battle, Wu Zhou won a great victory and its power was feared throughout the world.

Let those barbarians who have ulterior motives put their thoughts aside.

Now is definitely not the time to betray.

After this battle, under the advocacy of Wu Sansi and the great chief of the Persian Empire, countries around the world built an unprecedented column of honor for Wu Zhao.

All nations of the Great Zhou praised Tianshu for his virtues.

As the Tianshu of the Great Zhou Dynasty, which was praised by all nations, Japan, as a loyal dog of the Tang Dynasty, sent most of its laborers.

All expenditures are borne by each country.

Measure the material resources of each country and win the favor of the Queen Mother.

……

Wu Zhao was watching the craftsmen casting the model of Tianshu in the Mingtang.

It was cast with brass tributed from the Western Regions and gems sent from Persia. It was one hundred and five feet high, with the names of various countries engraved on the base and a gilded human figure standing on the top - it was cast in her image.

"The head of Western Turkic Khan Shibi has been sent to the city gate tower."

Li Dezhao, the chief eunuch, bowed and reported, his voice filled with uncontrollable excitement, "The Tibetan king, accompanied by his princess, knelt barefoot at Heyuan to surrender, offering to herd horses for generations."

Wu Zhao didn't look up, but ran her fingers over the patterns carved on the model.

Hidden in those patterns are totems from various countries: the wolf of the Turks, the yak of Tibet, the sun of Persia, and even the Yatagarasu of Japan.

"Have the Japanese envoys to the Tang Dynasty arrived?" she suddenly asked.

"They are coming, Your Majesty," Li Dezhao replied hurriedly. "They have brought three thousand craftsmen with them, saying they want to carve the patterns on the base of the Tianshu personally."

"Let them carve." Wu Zhao smiled, the pearls on the phoenix crown reflecting tiny glints of light. "If they don't carve well, throw them into the Luo River to feed the fish."

Nine months later, when the last remnants of the Shiwei were driven into the tundra of Siberia, the main body of the Wan Guo Tian Shu was finally cast.

The great chief of Persia, along with envoys from seventy-two countries, knelt before Tianshu and kowtowed three times and bowed nine times. The gold they brought filled the side halls of the Ziwei Palace, and silk carpets stretched from Tianjin Bridge to Mangshan.

Wu Sansi stood on the top of Tianshu and read the eulogy in seven languages. His voice was carried far away by the wind - there, the Tang army was dredging the river channels in the Western Regions, preparing to send the newly minted "Wu Zhou" coins to the more distant Persia and Daqin.

"Your Majesty," Di Renjie said suddenly while looking at the gilded statue on top of Tianshu, "Look at the sleeves of this statue, they are very similar to the style of the Zhenguan period." Wu Zhao followed his gaze and saw the sunlight passing through the sleeves of the statue, casting a long shadow on the ground, which looked very much like the silhouette left by Li Shimin in front of the Lingyan Pavilion.

She suddenly remembered a sentence she had heard the late emperor say under the pear tree in Luoyang Palace when she was young: "It is easy to gain a kingdom, but it is difficult to keep the people's hearts."

That night, the night market in Luoyang City was particularly lively.

The vendor selling Hubing set up a wok in front of his stall. The sound of the oil splashing was mixed with the sound of the pipa played by a dancer from the Western Regions.

An old soldier, holding a wine bowl, recounted the battles of the Mobei region to a nearby child. The calloused skin on his knuckles brushed against the child's cheek. "Remember, no matter whether the country is called Tang or Zhou, the land beneath our feet will always belong to the Tang Dynasty."

The child nodded, not quite understanding, and reached out to grab the scimitar at his waist - there were two words engraved on the knife: Zhenguan.

The copper bell of Tianshu swayed gently in the night, shaking the moonlight into fine gold foil, which sprinkled on the face of every sleeping Tang person.

There may be flashes of swords and shadows in their dreams, or there may be thousands of acres of fertile farmland, but there will never be any difference between the "Wu Zhou" and the "Tang Dynasty" - because the blood flowing in their veins is always the same kind of boiling blood.