Inside the Chengdu Prefectural Office.
Hearing those few sparse words, even Zhang Fei let out a sigh.
"Yide has something on his mind?" Liu Bei asked, a little surprised.
Zhang Fei lifted his hand and pointed vaguely into the distance.
"I was just suddenly reminded of the Qiang people."
Zhang Fei's gesture was casual, almost careless—but Liu Bei understood at once.
The Qiang people. Or rather, the Qiang Hu.
In the lands of Sanfu, Yongzhou, and Liangzhou, the Qiang Hu were everywhere—too many to count.
Back in the time of Emperor Wu of Han, in order to restrain the Xiongnu, the Han court had deliberately maintained friendly relations with the Qiang tribes.
By the reign of Emperor Guangwu, internal chaos had torn the Xiongnu apart. They split into northern and southern factions, slaughtering one another. The Southern Xiongnu submitted to Han authority and even followed Han armies to strike their northern kin.
With the Southern Xiongnu acting as a check, and with the full weight of the Han empire added on top, the Northern Xiongnu were beaten so thoroughly they could barely lift their heads.
And under those circumstances, the Qiang Hu gradually lost their usefulness in the eyes of the court.
Once they were no longer needed, everything changed.
Excessive taxation of the Qiang Hu became routine. Abducting their wives and daughters was treated as nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
The weak were seized and turned into slaves. The strong were pressed into service by powerful local clans, worked to the bone like draft animals. That was the norm.
As Kongming once put it rather bluntly:
the Qiang Hu gradually stopped being treated as people at all—at the very least, they were no longer considered Han.
These were matters Yide would naturally feel deeply about now.
After all, in just two months, Liu Bei and Kongming would be moving their armies into Hanzhong.
Yizhou was already settled. The next step was to manage Hanzhong, keep an eye on Yongzhou and Liangzhou, and from there plot a path into Guanzhong.
If one wanted to do any of that properly, the Qiang Hu were unavoidable.
That was precisely why Kongming had recently been spending time every single day organizing reports for Liu Bei on the conditions in Yong and Liang.
In Kongming's words:
"If the Qiang Hu are at peace, Yong and Liang will be stable.
If Yong and Liang are stable, the empire can be decided."
And because of this painful precedent involving the Qiang Hu, Liu Bei understood at once what Yide was getting at. He nodded slowly.
"Baekje," Liu Bei said, "has instead become a burden to Tang."
To destroy its state, an army of a hundred thousand would suffice.
But to truly suppress and govern its land—even a hundred thousand troops would not be enough.
Liu Bei took this deeply to heart.
This was a lesson he absolutely could not afford to relearn the hard way.
[Lightscreen]
[A distant bout of pillaging on the Korean Peninsula was not something anyone truly cared about.
Su Dingfang didn't.
Li Zhi cared even less.
Especially after the captives were presented at the Imperial Ancestral Temple, Li Zhi announced without hesitation:
"The time is ripe. Goguryeo must be erased."
Su Dingfang returned to Luoyang with prisoners in the eleventh month. By the twelfth month, Li Zhi could barely wait to issue new appointments:
Su Dingfang was named Commander-in-Chief of the Liaodong Route.
Qibi Heli was assigned to the Pae River Route.
Liu Boying to the Pyongyang Route.
Cheng Mingzhen to the Lufang Route.
Four armies advanced together. Goguryeo would fall.
With another massive campaign underway at the front, Li Yifu immediately grew busy once more.
This also meant one thing rather clearly: Liu Rengui was about to be unlucky again.
Ever since the Sui dynasty's invasions of Korea, the supply route had always run by sea—first shipping grain to Shandong, then crossing the Yellow Sea and Bohai Sea to reach Liaodong.
After being demoted, Liu Rengui was appointed Governor of Qingzhou. Transporting military supplies was well within his official duties.
Thus, with Li Yifu's encouragement, an order was issued with almost indecent haste:
"The military situation is urgent.
Liu Rengui—you must immediately, at once, transport grain to Liaodong and the Korean Peninsula!"
When Liu Rengui saw the order, he was dumbfounded.
He argued forcefully:
"Winter is the season of sea storms.
Sending ships out now—is this a death sentence?"
His reply was entirely reasonable.
It was also entirely useless.
Li Yifu intercepted it.
Under Li Yifu's instructions, the court's demands grew increasingly urgent, and the tone increasingly severe.
Left with no choice, Liu Rengui arranged for the fleet to sail.
And just as Li Yifu had anticipated—
A storm struck.
Ships capsized.
The grain was lost.
Many of the laborers were killed or went missing.
With Li Yifu's assistance, the case was swiftly pushed all the way to Emperor Gaozong.
Li Zhi personally appointed the Investigating Censor Yuan Yishi to handle the matter.
At this point, with Zhangsun Wuji already fallen, Li Yifu was effectively unchecked. He spoke frankly with Yuan Yishi:
"You know how to get things done.
Don't worry—you won't lack official rank."
Once Yuan Yishi reached Shandong, he used every method at his disposal, attempting to intimidate Liu Rengui into committing suicide so the case could be closed.
Liu Rengui's response was simple:
"We will follow the law.
Whatever the Tang Code says—that is how we judge."
The case once again made its way back to Emperor Gaozong.
After more than half a month of debate, the final verdict was issued:
Liu Rengui was stripped of his status as an official, reduced to commoner rank, and exiled to Liaodong as a soldier.
And it was there—on the Korean Peninsula—that Liu Rengui suddenly realized something:
So… I actually have talent as a general?]
Liu Rengui's expression was calm—neither joyful nor sorrowful.
For him, everything he had just experienced felt strangely unreal, like a dream.
Being framed by a chancellor.
Being forced to send ships into winter seas.
Being exiled to Liaodong as a soldier…
With a self-mocking smile, Liu Rengui found his life rather… colorful.
Only—
"This voice," he murmured, "it says even I have the makings of a general?"
"Even?" Li Shimin echoed, curious. "Who else has recognized Zhengze's talent?"
"The previous one," Liu Rengui replied honestly, "was Your Majesty."
Li Shimin could only give an awkward smile.
At the time, he had thought that speaking as the Son of Heaven would surely win this county magistrate's loyalty.
But instead—
"Before Your Majesty," Liu Rengui continued, "the Duke of Lu said I had the bearing of a famed general."
Liu Rengui clasped his hands in salute, entirely ignoring the fact that Hou Junji had nearly buried his head into the floor.
Zhangsun Wuji chuckled.
"So the Duke of Lu even has an eye for talent."
Everyone present knew what that really meant, and more than a few found it hard to suppress their laughter.
Du Ruhui, however, still had the leisure to comfort Li Shimin:
"Judging from Liu Zhengze's rulings, there are still loyal and upright officials in the court.
Men like that traitorous chancellor cannot monopolize power."
"After all," Du Ruhui added calmly, "if that treacherous minister truly had sole authority, the loss of military supplies would have been punishable by execution."
Hearing this, Li Shimin finally felt a little better.
But the moment he thought about how Zhinu had invested so much effort into cultivating this sort of creature, his mood soured again.
"Such treacherous villains," the emperor said gravely, "nearly cost the Zhenguan era a loyal minister!"
Being praised so solemnly by the emperor made Liu Rengui feel awkward all of a sudden.
Du Ruhui, ever composed, pointed out the flaw in His Majesty's wording:
"Your Majesty—during the Zhenguan years, Liu Zhengze only reached the post of Jishizhong."
The implication was clear.
A Jishizhong was merely a fifth-rank official. Though appointments above the fifth rank required imperial approval, and though such a man would at least leave an impression in the emperor's mind—
To speak of heavy use or great loyal ministers was still a stretch.
Li Shimin fell silent.
After thinking it over, he realized that no matter how he argued, he risked hurting Liu Rengui's feelings. In the end, he could only mutter:
"Then it was simply that I failed to place him where his talents could be used."
Yet in his heart, a thought surfaced.
Had it not been for the guidance of that mysterious light-screen, Liu Rengui's execution of a commandant would likely have displeased him greatly.
Seen this way, the man truly had been… cautious.
Li Shimin swiftly dismissed the thought, then looked Liu Rengui over once more.
"Zhengze carries the air of a refined gentleman," he said.
"His bearing as a commander was hidden very deep."
Liu Rengui was instantly dazzled.
On the other side, Li Shiji smiled and patted Su Dingfang on the shoulder, entirely free of resentment.
Even if the chance were handed to you, the gesture seemed to say, you still wouldn't have made use of it, brother.
[Lightscreen]
[In the end, Liu Rengui's second rise was all thanks to the enormous firework Su Dingfang had left behind when he departed—one that exploded spectacularly inside the cesspit known as Baekje.
Tang forces had set a disastrous precedent by looting at Sabi. When Baekje was destroyed, Tang had conscripted Silla as an auxiliary force.
Seeing their masters behave this way, Silla followed suit, launching retaliatory raids and pillaging Baekje without restraint.
In a feudal age, legitimacy mattered. Li Zhi and Su Dingfang cared little for Baekje precisely because the Baekje royal family had been relocated to Luoyang.
With no royal house left, who was there to raise the banner of resistance?
At this delicate moment, Wa chose to enter the battlefield.
They delivered Baekje a former hostage prince who had once resided in Wa—Buyeo Pung.
At the time, Wa was ruled by Empress Kōgyoku.
As the second female ruler in Wa's history, Kōgyoku lacked neither ambition nor resolve.
She was, in fact, the first person in Wa's history to openly declare an intention to conquer China.
After the Taika Reforms, Empress Kōgyoku judged that the moment had arrived for Wa to contend with Tang for control of the Korean Peninsula.
She not only gave full support to Baekje's restoration—
She intended to personally lead the campaign.
After Buyeo Pung returned to Baekje, figures such as Heukchi Sangji, Gwisil Boksin, and Dochim—who had previously surrendered to Tang—rapidly declared independence once more.
They welcomed the prince, raised the banner of restoration, and proclaimed the rebirth of Baekje.
The situation on the Korean Peninsula changed in the blink of an eye.
Thus, Liu Rengui—obediently setting out as a commoner to serve in Baekje under imperial decree—found events growing increasingly bewildering.
No sooner had he arrived than he received shocking news:
Baekje had risen in rebellion across its entire territory.
The Ungjin Commandery established after Baekje's fall existed in name only.
At present, Tang forces controlled just one city—Sabi.
And in the same year, another piece of news arrived—neither entirely good nor bad.
Perhaps affected by the aftermath of Zhangsun Wuji's death, Wang Wendu, the originally appointed head of the Ungjin Commandery, died suddenly under mysterious circumstances.
Baekje was left leaderless.
Under such awkward conditions, Goguryeo in the north was still locked in fierce battle with Tang forces.
The Ungjin supply line was of vital importance to the northern front.
And so, faced with this desperate situation, Li Zhi issued a decree—throwing dice on a dead horse:
Liu Rengui was restored as Governor of Fangzhou and appointed Acting Commander of the Ungjin Commandery.]