Inside Ganlu Hall, Li Shimin was having a very strange emotional moment. He genuinely could not decide whether he should laugh or cry.
The good news had arrived first. It was now the 5th year of Zhenguan, and thanks to the future broadcast playing right in front of his face, he had just received the ultimate historical spoiler. He and his entire cabinet could finally breathe a collective sigh of relief. They now knew for a fact that this year and the next would be completely free of natural disasters.
Wonderful.
Then came the bad news.
Starting from the 7th year, his empire was apparently about to get dragged through 26 consecutive years of misery. Catastrophic famines, sudden floods, violent earthquakes, and apparently whatever other disasters Heaven felt like throwing at him.
Li Shimin stared at the broadcast for a long moment.
His ministers stared too.
For a brief, beautiful moment, everyone had been celebrating the fact that the next two years would be peaceful.
Now they were collectively doing the mental arithmetic of just how long 26 years actually was.
These two violently conflicting emotions collided in Li Shimin's chest. On one hand, he had just learned that the immediate future was safe. On the other, he had also discovered that Heaven apparently had a very ambitious long-term disaster schedule.
In the end, the creeping dread of that looming 26-year marathon of misery won out.
A long, heavy sigh escaped his lips before he even realized he was sighing.
He had no idea whether to be grateful for the good news or offended by the timing of the bad news.
Probably both.
The only silver lining was their current spot on the timeline. It was still the very beginning of year 5. They had a solid two-year buffer of guaranteed peace before the nightmare started.
Prime Minister Du Ruhui felt a literal weight drop off his shoulders. Knowing the current year was safe was a huge tactical advantage.
Right now, the imperial court was burning resources at a staggering rate to support General Li Jing on the western front. The veteran general was locked in a brutal campaign against the Tuyuhun kingdom. If a flood or drought suddenly crippled their home provinces, the logistical strain would have shattered the administration instantly.
This future spoiler meant they could finally stop looking up at the sky in terror. They did not have to worry about the heavens throwing a temper tantrum this year.
Noticing the conflicted look on the Emperor's face, Du Ruhui stepped forward with a warm comforting smile.
"Your Majesty," Du Ruhui said softly. "At the very least, heaven has given us a two-year head start. We have this year and the next to protect our forests and stabilize our soil. If we act right now, we might be able to intercept and neutralize a lot of these upcoming disasters before they even form."
Li Shimin listened carefully. Then he slowly shook his head.
"These impending disasters do not fall from heaven," Li Shimin replied. His voice was quiet but firm. "They are brewed entirely by the hands of men."
Honestly, the future host was not preaching some profound philosophy. The core logic was painfully simple.
A single tree does not make a forest. Every peasant understood that.
A thousand-mile dam can collapse from a single ant hole. Even children playing in the mud knew that rule.
When the torrential rains fall, a thick mountain forest holds the earth together. Meanwhile, flat farmland instantly washes away into a sea of mud. Everyone had seen this happen with their own eyes.
Yet when it came to actually managing the sprawling mountain forests on a national scale, no one in the government had the vision to connect the dots.
Chopping down an ancient forest to clear a few extra fields solved the hunger problem for a single day. But it destroyed an ecosystem that took a century to grow. That shortsighted greed planted the seeds for a thousand years of ecological disaster. A vicious curse that would ruthlessly torture their descendants forever.
Li Shimin etched this lesson deeply into his heart. He glanced over at the scribes Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui, who were rapidly writing down every word spoken in the room.
Suddenly, a phantom memory hit him. The raw sickening taste of that squishy locust flared back up in the back of his throat. He gagged slightly and shook his head to clear the thought.
He forced his attention back to the screen. He focused on a detail that genuinely piqued his interest.
"This city called Beijing," Li Shimin muttered to himself. "The host said it was the capital of the Ming Dynasty. Where on earth is it located?"
His geographical worldview was built entirely on classical history. During the ancient Zhou Dynasty, Luoyang held the title of Eastern Capital. So when the host talked about later Tang emperors fleeing to Luoyang for food, Li Shimin understood the logic perfectly.
During the Eastern Han Dynasty, his own city of Chang'an was referred to as the Western Capital. He had already accepted that future generations eventually renamed his home to Xi'an.
Furthermore, he had listened to the host ramble about the Three Kingdoms era. He had learned that the southern city of Jinling was eventually upgraded to a major capital called Nanjing. Considering that Jinling controlled the Yangtze River and anchored the entire southeast economy, that made perfect strategic sense.
But a primary capital city located deep in the freezing north? A city so important that the modern Republic still used it as their center of power today?
Li Shimin was deeply amazed. However, as a proud native of the Chang'an region, he also felt a slight sting of geographical rivalry. He was incredibly curious.
What kind of unbelievable strategic advantage did this Beijing possess to win the ultimate favor of future generations?
Chengdu was a magnificent basin. Xi'an was a glorious fortress. What kind of breathtaking metropolis was this Beijing supposed to be?
Obviously, no one standing in Ganlu Hall could answer his questions. Standing alone at the peak of the empire, Li Shimin let out a profound sigh of genuine regret.
"To not be able to travel to the future and witness these incredible sights with my own eyes," he whispered. "What a crushing tragedy."
---
Meanwhile, inside the Han Dynasty command center in Chang'an, the reaction to the Tang Dynasty's horrific disaster report was much more blunt and chaotic.
"What a truly vicious turn of heavens!" Ma Chao shouted out loud. His eyes were wide with shock.
"The sheer administrative competence of the Zhenguan cabinet is genuinely breathtaking," Zhuge Liang murmured. His voice was filled with sincere professional respect. He waved his feather fan slowly.
Right on cue, Zhang Fei's hand shot out like a striking snake.
Flick.
The sound was sharp, like a pebble cracking against a wooden board. Ma Chao yelped, his whole body jerking backward.
"Hey, what the..." he started, but the words died in his throat.
His hands flew up and slapped over his own mouth. His eyes went wide, locked on the screen above. His chest heaved. His face had gone pale, then red, then pale again. The man looked like he had just insulted the heavens themselves and was waiting for a lightning bolt to crash through the roof.
He slowly sank toward the floor, knees folding, shoulders curling inward.
"Ohh, heaven, forgive my mouth," he whispered behind his fingers. "Just take my words as a fart. Do not take them seriously. Please, heaven. Please."
Zhang Fei, still leaning forward with his arm extended, tilted his head. "Oi. What are you doing down there?"
Ma Chao shook his head furiously. He did not even glance at Zhang Fei. His eyes stayed glued to the Light Screen, unblinking.
"If that thing goes dark because of me..." he hissed, voice cracking. "If this light screen disappears because of me, what sin have I committed... I will throw myself into the river."
Zhang Fei blinked. Then he burst out laughing. "Good. You understand, Mengqi."
Liu Bei let out a long, tired sigh. He had long since given up trying to control his chaotic generals.
He simply nodded in quiet agreement with Zhuge Liang, choosing to focus on the one man in the room who still made sense.
Looking at the objective data, the early Tang administration was a juggernaut. They took a twenty year beating from Mother Nature. Yet they held the empire together, maintained internal stability, and projected military power outward. The Emperor and his cabinet were unquestionably legendary figures in the art of governance.
"You know, this Tang Dynasty really knows how to keep things entertaining," Zhang Fei chuckled. He was completely unfazed by the terrifying history. He actively rubbed his knuckles after assaulting Ma Chao.
"They are constantly expanding their borders on the outside," Zhang Fei chanted with a grin. "And they are constantly fighting apocalyptic disasters on the inside."
He paused for a second.
"They kick things off with a bloody royal prince rebellion. Then they follow it up by letting a literal Empress steal the throne!"
Liu Bei could not help himself. He mirrored Zhang Fei's exact motion. He reached over and sharply flicked the general on his bobbing forehead.
"Hey, it hurts..." Zhang Fei started, but the protest died in his throat. "Oops. Sorry, Big Brother."
"Your mouth is full of very terrible dark poetry," Liu Bei scolded with a slight smirk. "Are you trying to pass the imperial exams to become a top scholar?"
The heavy tension in the command tent instantly shattered. The room erupted into roaring laughter.
Pang Tong had spent years dealing with Zhang Fei's unique brand of chaos. He quickly jumped into the conversation to draw the heat away from his friend. He waved his fan and agreed with Zhuge Liang.
"Honestly, I cannot decide," Pang Tong laughed. "I do not know if I should say the early Tang Dynasty just got incredibly lucky with that freakishly warm weather. Or maybe I should just drop to my knees and worship the sheer administrative genius of their founding Emperor."
The other generals nodded in agreement. The diplomat Jian Yong leaned forward with a serious expression.
"Jokes aside," Jian Yong noted. "A man who loves his starving peasants so deeply that he would furiously swallow a live locust out of pure anger. That level of dedication is completely unprecedented in human history."
It was a very sharp observation. The future broadcast had spent very little time actively praising the Emperor himself. Li Shimin's ultimate unification of the empire was glossed over in a single brief sentence. The credit mostly went to the legendary Tang generals and the brilliant ministers.
But if you really stopped to think about it, the truth was obvious. The fact that one Emperor managed to command and perfectly control that pool of arrogant geniuses was the ultimate proof of his capability.
And that locust story? That was raw, unfiltered charisma.
Zhang Fei rubbed his chin, nodding slowly at Jian Yong's assessment. Then a competitive fire lit up in his eyes.
"Bah. From my stand, when it comes to loving the common people, Big Brother absolutely refuses to lose to anyone. Even Li Shimin. No contest."
Liu Bei: "_"
The broadcast continued smoothly. The host shifted the historical timeline forward.
[Lightscreen]
[If we move past the early Tang and look at the catastrophic An Lushan Rebellion, you can actually see the heavy hand of climate change pushing the dominos.
When you analyze the timeline from the start of the Tang to its destruction, the movements of the northern nomadic empires were completely dictated by global temperature fluctuations.
Let's look back at the historical Chinese climate chart. The first major temperature shift during the Sui and Tang era aligns perfectly with the Kaihuang reign of the Sui Dynasty.
During this exact timeframe, a huge geopolitical event occurred in the north. The great internal civil war of the Turkic Khaganate exploded.
Using the Altai Mountains as a geographic boundary, the Turkic Empire split in half. It fractured into the Eastern and Western Turkic Khaganates.
Now, if you study history, violent internal power struggles among nomads are incredibly common.
What is unusual here is the aftermath. After this brutal civil war, both halves of the empire remained powerful, yet neither of them launched a desperate invasion into the south. That tells us one crucial thing. The warm climate up north was good enough that they felt no real survival pressure. With green grass and fat herds, they had no biological need to migrate south and steal resources. They were comfortable.
The Eastern Turkic faction that emerged from the split was terrifyingly strong. By the end of the Sui Dynasty, practically every Chinese warlord in the north had to deal with them one way or another. Some begged for military support, others for diplomatic protection. Heavyweights like Liu Wuzhou, Guo Zihe, Dou Jiande, Xue Ju, and even Li Yuan, the founding Emperor of Tang, all bowed the knee at some point.
But once the civil wars ended and the dust settled, the Tang Emperor finally turned his full attention to the northern threat. During the Zhenguan era, Li Shimin unleashed his top generals, Li Jing and Li Ji. They marched north and annihilated the Eastern Turks, then wiped out the Xueyantuo Khaganate for good measure.
Because the northern climate was still warm and pleasant, the surviving nomads did not care that much. To them, they just got a new boss. The grass was green. The sheep were fat. Life went on. This is why the northern borders remained largely peaceful for the first 100 years of the Tang Dynasty.
The An Lushan Rebellion marks the tipping point of Tang climate change. Roughly between the years 740 and 820, the global temperature did something crazy. It spiked slightly, and then it plunged off a cliff.
How did this sudden freeze affect history? The plunging temperatures instantly triggered survival panic on the steppes. The northern borders exploded. The Turgesh Khaganate and the Later Turkic Empire both launched rebellions. The Tang Dynasty formed a desperate military alliance with the Uyghurs to crush the Turks. Afterward, the Uyghurs became the new undisputed overlords of the northern steppes.
Then, the temperature briefly stabilized and warmed up. The Uyghurs maintained a relatively stable peaceful diplomatic relationship with the Tang Dynasty. They firmly established the powerful Uyghur Khaganate without feeling the pressure to invade.
This small window of warmer weather also gave the Tibetan Empire a huge boost. With the Tang Dynasty bleeding out during the An Lushan Rebellion, the Tibetans seized the chance and launched invasion after invasion. They bit off huge chunks of Tang territory and grew into a superpower, dominating the high plateau, the Hexi Corridor, the Sichuan region, and the Western Regions.
Many scholars actually argue that this slight bump in temperature provided enough agricultural surplus for the rebels to keep fighting. This is a major reason why the An Lushan Rebellion dragged on for so long.
But that slight warming period was a complete illusion.
By the beginning of the 9th century, the Sui-Tang Warm Period officially ended. The deep freeze began. And with it, the death knell sounded for both the Uyghur Khaganate and the mighty Tibetan Empire.
Starting in the early 800s, the Uyghur territories were hit with back-to-back years of apocalyptic blizzards. Famines swept the steppes. Disease ran rampant. The vast herds of sheep and horses died in the millions. The Uyghur power collapsed. Twenty years later, they were easily crushed by a subordinate tribe, the Yenisei Kyrgyz. The surviving Uyghur nobility fled south in a mass exodus and integrated into Chinese society. By 840, the Uyghur Khaganate was officially dead.
The mighty Tibetan Empire could not escape the freezing wrath of nature either. The sudden climate shift triggered food shortages. This sparked violent rebellions across their entire empire. A hero named Zhang Yichao launched an uprising. He successfully tore the Hexi and Longyou regions away from Tibetan control and returned them to the Tang. Simultaneously, the starving Tibetan elites tore each other apart in endless civil wars. This triggered slave revolts. By 877, the entire Tibetan Dynasty completely disintegrated.
The only reason the Tang Dynasty did not completely die immediately after the An Lushan Rebellion is climate. They somehow managed to shamble forward like a zombie for another century because the climate gave them that one final bump of warmth in the middle.
The timing is perfectly poetic. The very next year after the Tibetan Empire collapsed in 877, the Huang Chao Rebellion exploded across the Tang Dynasty. That rebellion broke the empire's spine. The Tang Dynasty became a hollow name.
So when people say the Tibetan Empire and the Great Tang Dynasty rose and fell in tandem, they are absolutely right.
Ultimately, the man who put the final nail in the coffin of the Tang was the warlord Zhu Wen. In the year 907, he forced the final Tang ruler, Emperor Ai, to hand over the throne. Shortly after, Zhu Wen poisoned the Emperor.
And just like that, the Tang Dynasty was officially wiped from the map.]