Chapter Sixty-Nine: Urgent Military Intelligence

This is a painted pleasure boat.

At first glance, it is the sort of extravagant vessel that only aristocratic families can afford, a massive ship nearly thirty meters in length—a true colossus, at least for this era. Of course, during the Qin and Han dynasties, ships far larger than this existed; it is said that in the Qin period, the largest sea vessels approached a hundred meters in length and several dozen meters in width, able to transport nearly a thousand soldiers at a time.

But after the Three Kingdoms, with the Jin dynasty weakened and the chaos of the Five Barbarians, shipbuilding technology was thoroughly ruined. Now, even fifty-meter ships cannot be built, effectively trapping the Chinese heartland within the continent for nearly a thousand years after the Sui and Tang dynasties.

Li Kong understood a fair bit of shipbuilding, though his knowledge pertained to steel warships. As for these wooden boats, he honestly could not build one. He wondered whether the Eastern Roman Empire might have large vessels now—perhaps he should find a way to acquire some?

“Kong, look, they’re playing a riddle game. Should we join in?” Just as Li Kong was lost in thought, Li Tai tugged at his sleeve, his face full of eager anticipation.

Much as in his previous life, Li Tai still loved poetry, song, and literature. His literary cultivation was second only to Li Chengqian among all the princes, and because he was younger, he liked to show off—his vanity was unmatched.

Li Kong glanced at him in surprise, then looked at the other three, and said, “If you want to play, go ahead, but don’t make a scene. It wouldn’t look good.”

“Under heaven, everything follows the law. As long as we don’t damage Father’s image, the rest doesn’t matter,” Li Chengqian said with a smile, then led Li Tai, Li Ke, and Li You to the open space ahead, discussing the riddles hanging from the pleasure boat.

“Aren’t you going to take a look?” Li Lizhi asked curiously, watching Li Kong remain where he was.

“No, let’s relax here, enjoy the autumn sky, and savor the warmth before winter comes. Don’t you find this quite delightful?” Li Kong replied with a smile. Truth be told, he was simply lazy, and his knowledge of poetry and literature was scant.

It was the same reason as ever—he was familiar with military poetry, but in other literary matters, he was almost completely ignorant, and he never aspired to win fame as a scholar.

Now, in Li Lizhi’s eyes, he was a near-perfect figure, and he would never allow anything to tarnish his image. Yes, this riddle game felt rather beneath him.

Li Lizhi suspected nothing, and remembering what Li Kong had said in the villa, she felt a little shy. She sat quietly beside him, her eyes drifting toward the nearby Wei River, where shimmering waves were broken by fish leaping from the water, sending ripples across the surface. As winter approached, these creatures were displaying their last brilliance of the year.

The sky was high and the water wide, and everything seemed so beautiful.

Though Li Kong had grown accustomed to such natural scenery, there was still a dreamlike quality in his heart—an aftereffect of the polluted air in his previous life.

Not far away, two unremarkable men leaned together and whispered. One quickly slipped away, while the other walked toward Li Kong.

Li Kong knew their identities. Both were secret guards from the Xuanjia Guards, recently separated into two groups: one to protect the imperial family, the other to relay messages. Beneath them was a vast intelligence network that collected information from all around.

“Master Li, His Majesty commands the Crown Prince and the princes to return to the palace immediately. You are to come as well—urgent military news!”

Li Kong was bewildered. Was there a war in the fourth year of the Zhenguan era? He couldn’t recall—his time here had been long, and many details had faded. Besides, the current Tang dynasty had diverged greatly from historical records, rendering what he knew obsolete.

But since it was deemed urgent military news, the matter must be serious. Li Kong was not one to ignore priorities. He stood at once and said, “I’ll call them right away. We’ll return immediately.”

With that, Li Kong headed toward the pleasure boat. Li Lizhi, dissatisfied but silent, knew as a girl who took her mother as a role model that she must not interfere when men were at work, lest trouble ensue.

Beside the pleasure boat, Li Chengqian and Li Ke were on the fringes, while Li You followed Li Tai like a faithful dog. Li Tai wore a triumphant expression, and Li Kong could tell he had won much.

“Had enough fun?” Li Kong’s abrupt question startled Li Chengqian, who then looked at him and said, “Kong? What’s the matter? Can’t resist playing yourself?”

“Play, my foot. Call Li Tai here—something’s come up!” Li Kong shot Li Chengqian a look and turned to leave.

Seeing that Li Kong was serious, Li Chengqian quickly sent Li Ke to fetch Li Tai. Though reluctant, Li Tai was no wastrel; he politely declined everyone’s admiring glances and dashed out of the crowd.

Meanwhile, in the Taiji Palace.

Li Shimin stared intently at the military map on the wall. With Li Kong’s guidance and improvements, the map was now far superior to that of three years before. Though it was no match for a satellite map, its precision surpassed old maps by a hundredfold.

Behind him, Li Jing, Li Ji, Cheng Yaojin, Hou Junji, Changsun Wuji, and other high ministers stood in solemn ranks, their faces grave.

After a long silence, Li Shimin finally turned and said, “Goguryeo has been quiet for nearly ten years. Why have they suddenly sent troops to Liaodong? Do they not fear that the Eastern Turks might stab them in the back?”

“Perhaps the two have already allied,” Fang Xuanling analyzed, “but our first concern is how to respond to Goguryeo’s attack. With winter approaching, the climate in Liaodong has already turned cold. If we send troops, it will be extremely difficult, and we may repeat the disaster of Emperor Yang. But if we do nothing, we cannot answer to the people. Goguryeo has indeed chosen the perfect moment!”

Without Du Ruhui at his side, Fang Xuanling felt immense pressure.

Everyone remained silent, for as Fang Xuanling had said, there was no good option—whether to advance or retreat, both were fraught with peril.

Most importantly, they had to worry whether the Eastern Turks and Goguryeo had joined forces. If so, their predicament would be even greater, even more dire.