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The further north you go, the denser the population becomes, and the more breathtaking the scenery becomes.

Upon entering Jingzhou, the Li clan saw a massive canal project underway, dredging and widening to connect the Yangtze and Yellow River systems. Countless energetic and rosy-cheeked laborers were busy at the construction site, their shouts echoing through the air, and huge waterwheels and simple cranes were being used extensively.

As they passed through Xiangyang, they saw several tall, peculiar buildings billowing thick smoke outside the city. These were said to be the "blast furnaces" of the "Royal Workshop," smelting refined iron day and night.

"Father, that chimney..."

One of Li Shimin's grandsons, a boy with a particular interest in machinery, couldn't help but ask in a low voice.

"Silence!"

Li Shimin spoke in a low voice, his heart equally shaken. This large-scale industrial production model was something he had never imagined. The source of Huachao's power seemed to lie not only in martial prowess and political maneuvering, but also in these seemingly crude yet highly productive "national strength" skilled craftsmen.

They weren't the only group. At several large post stations or ferry crossings, they encountered several other groups of similar size, also escorted by government troops. Examining each other from a distance, and from their clothing, demeanor, and the occasional snippets of conversation they overheard, Li Shimin and his core clansmen recognized some familiar yet unfamiliar figures—

Among them were the Cui clan of Qinghe, the Cui clan of Boling, the Lu clan of Fanyang, the Li clan of Longxi, the Li clan of Zhaojun, the Zheng clan of Xingyang, and the Wang clan of Taiyuan… These were none other than the major branches of the “Five Surnames and Seven Clans,” who had once had close ties with the Sui Dynasty imperial family or considered themselves noble! They too were accompanied by their families, their faces somber, their eyes filled with astonishment, resentment, and deep worry. Their eyes met, and they instantly understood each other's predicament—fellow sufferers, all uprooted from their centuries-old homelands by the irresistible force of this transformative dynasty, and drawn towards the capital, Luoyang.

There were no pleasantries, no conversations, only a heavy, unspoken understanding, a sense of shared sorrow. The glory of past aristocratic families, the kinship ties, and the open and covert struggles between them all seemed so pale and laughable before the absolute will of the state. They were like a flock of sheep driven from their pastures, awaiting unknown slaughter or exile.

In mid-April of the twenty-fourth year of the Dingding reign, after more than a month of trekking, the team finally arrived in Luoyang.

The first thing you notice is how big it is.

It is boundless and vast.

The city of Luoyang in my memory—its magnificent palaces, bustling neighborhoods, and the winding Luo River—has now been replaced by a colossal structure stretching as far as the eye can see, composed of taller city walls, wider roads, and more diverse buildings.

The new Luoyang city wall seems to completely envelop the old city and extend outwards for several miles. Its height and thickness far exceed those of the past, and the wall has a unique bluish-gray color, reportedly made with new materials for greater strength. The moat has been widened into a true "river," with boats traveling on its surface.

The city gates were wide open, their depths unfathomable, and carriages, horses, and pedestrians flowed in and out in an orderly fashion, like a river of fish crossing a ferry. The city gate guards, gleaming in armor and full of spirit, checked documents and directed traffic with remarkable efficiency. The air was thick with a mixture of various food aromas, dust, metal, paint, and the vast, noisy vitality unique to the lives of millions.

"This...this is really Luoyang?"

Li Jiancheng murmured, his face deathly pale. The Eastern Capital of his memory had been completely swallowed up and covered by this colossal city.

"More than ten times..."

Li Shimin gazed up at the towering city walls, his throat dry. Qin Qiong's claim of a population exceeding one million was no exaggeration. Just entering through the city gates and seeing the throngs of people thronging the main street was breathtaking in its density and diversity. Han Chinese, merchants from other regions, monks, Taoists, craftsmen, students, soldiers, peddlers… all sorts of people, dressed in different ways, speaking a cacophony of languages, yet all seemed to follow some unseen rule, flowing ceaselessly through this vast urban fabric.

The streets were wide and straight, paved with huge bluestone slabs and cement, dividing the way for pedestrians and vehicles. Trees lined the streets, with drainage ditches beneath them. The buildings along the street were mostly two or even three stories high, primarily brick and stone structures, with a unified yet varied style, and a dazzling array of shop signs. Even more astonishing were the occasional thick, black "cables" (Li Shimin later learned these were experimental telegraph lines) spanning the streets, and tall "streetlights" topped with glass domes.

The Li clan members were led to a newly established "residential compound" in the southwest corner of the city, surrounded by high walls. The buildings here were uniform, all two-story buildings with gray walls and black tiles, arranged like a military camp, heavily guarded.

They were settled in several of the buildings, living alongside other prominent families who had arrived earlier. Through the small windows, they could see members of the Cui and Lu clans, equally bewildered and uneasy, moving about in the limited courtyard.

The conditions were far better than in the Repentance Quarters; it was clean, sturdy, and even had basic furniture and a separate kitchen. But the feeling of being closely monitored and having no control over their own destiny was much stronger than in Lingnan. This was the heart of the empire, the central hub that controlled their fate.

Afternoon the next day.

Li Shimin climbed alone onto the simple rooftop platform of the small building assigned to them, and then he saw "it".

North of Luoyang, to the northwest of the original site of the Ziwei Palace, stands a colossal tower that defies description, rising straight into the sky!
The pagoda is entirely ivory-white, both warm and hard, and under the slightly hazy spring sunlight, it exudes a luster that is neither gold nor jade, yet transcends the ordinary materials.

The tower is not a traditional wood and stone structure; its lines are extremely simple and smooth, thicker at the bottom and thinner at the top, tapering evenly, like a giant standing tall between heaven and earth, or a sharp sword pointing to the sky. The surface of the tower appears perfectly smooth, with almost no visible seams.

Its height… Li Shimin strained his eyes to try and estimate it. Twenty zhang? Thirty zhang? Definitely more! Just visually estimating its absolute height, which surpassed all the palaces, city gates, bell towers, and drum towers of Luoyang, already brought a strong sense of visual oppression and spiritual shock.

The top of the tower does not appear to be a traditional flying eaves and brackets, but a huge, complex spherical structure that shimmers with the luster of metal and glass, reflecting a dazzling and mysterious brilliance in the sunlight that shines through the gaps in the clouds.

"This is the Altar of Heaven..."

Li Shimin murmured the name, which he had overheard from a casual conversation among the escorting officers. It was a wonder built under the supervision of Emperor Huayi Huawei to "connect heaven and earth and suppress the fate of the nation."

Even from afar, Li Shimin could sense the almost mythical engineering prowess, resource mobilization capabilities, and... ineffable will to rule represented by that colossal tower. This was beyond human capability, more like the work of immortals or demons!

Just how powerful is Emperor Hua in terms of cultivation and control over the empire?

He, Li Shimin, was once the King of Qin, commanding heroes across the land. He knew all too well what such a magnificent construction project of this scale and height meant. It meant conscripting hundreds of thousands, even millions, of laborers. These able-bodied men, separated from their fields and workshops, would consume astronomical amounts of grain over the long construction period. The overseers' whippings, the heavy labor, the harsh working conditions, the inevitable accidents and injuries… each of these would accumulate resentment and erode the nation's strength.

Qin Shi Huang built the Great Wall, constructed the Epang Palace, and built the Lishan Mausoleum; Emperor Wu of Han opened up the southwest barbarians and built palaces; Emperor Yang of Sui opened the Grand Canal and built the Eastern Capital... Which of these achievements, while bringing lasting benefits (or what one might think brings lasting benefits), also sowed the seeds of the nation's decline?
"Wasting national funds, exhausting the people's strength, causing widespread resentment and unrest throughout the land"—this is almost an iron-clad curse associated with such grand projects, a thorn that is difficult to remove from the heart of emperors.

However, what did he see on his way north?
It was a smooth, wide thoroughfare, bustling with carriages and horses, and thriving in commerce, not a lifeless road choked with conscripted laborers.

They are farmers who are busy in the fields but have a relatively calm demeanor, not desolate villages where nine out of ten houses are empty and only women and children are crying out of hunger.

The post station was a well-organized hub for merchants, soldiers, and messengers, while the construction site, though filled with shouts, rarely saw whips being lashed; instead, it was a scene of labor aided by machinery.

The towns along the way, though not wealthy, were bustling with activity, lined with shops, and their faces reflected a focus on a future that looked promising, rather than the numbness and despair of being crushed by heavy taxes and forced labor.

Not to mention Luoyang itself. With a population of millions, the streets are clean and orderly, the security seems well-maintained, and the supply of goods is plentiful. That vibrant, bustling energy cannot be faked by the false prosperity created by forced taxation and extortion.

This is so contradictory! Why did the emperor, who was so ambitious and built this almost miraculous giant tower, not only not cause widespread suffering under his rule, but instead present a scene of prosperity far exceeding that of the Sui Dynasty's heyday?
The initial shock in Li Shimin's heart was gradually replaced by a stronger desire to explore. He was no longer merely awestruck by the tower's height and appearance, but began to rack his brains to think about the logic behind this "contradiction."

First, there's the issue of "wealth." Where did the money and provisions for such a massive project come from? It certainly wasn't solely from exploiting agriculture. The unprecedented prosperity of maritime and land trade along the route, the Persian and Arab merchants, the caravans laden with exotic treasures… the profits from these trade routes were likely staggering.

And those blast furnaces billowing thick smoke, producing refined iron day and night, ironware, and even more advanced metal products, are wealth in themselves. Perhaps the Chinese dynasty has opened up unprecedented sources of revenue, filling the national treasury and enabling it to support such a massive project without excessively exploiting the common people?

Secondly, there's the issue of "force." Where did the million laborers come from? Why hasn't public resentment reached a boiling point?
Li Shimin recalled the condition of the workers at the construction site outside Xiangyang. They did not seem to be ragged, emaciated conscripts. Many of them were dressed uniformly, and although their movements were busy, they were organized...

"Recruitment"? Hiring workers with money and grain? If the national treasury truly had such resources, that would be one method. But even so, organizing and allocating hundreds of thousands of laborers, coordinating countless materials, and ensuring the project's progress is itself a terrifyingly complex systemic undertaking. What kind of efficient, incorruptible, and powerful bureaucratic system would be needed to execute it? Has the Hua Dynasty's governance truly reached the level of "orders being obeyed without question, as if they were one's own arm"? This is far more difficult than mere military conquest!

Secondly, there's the "skill." The materials used for that colossal tower were far from ordinary brick, stone, or wood. Its smooth, seamless surface and towering height must have embodied incomprehensible architectural techniques. And what about the cement roads, blast furnaces, and simple machinery seen along the way? Did these "ingenious craftsmen" greatly improve efficiency and reduce manpower consumption and casualties? For example, if there were a way to quickly transport the massive stone to a height of hundreds of feet, the required manpower and time would be greatly reduced.

Emperor Hua himself is a mysterious and unpredictable martial arts master who surpasses the three grandmasters. Has he applied these extraordinary powers and knowledge to governing the country and building the nation?
Finally, and most chillingly for Li Shimin, was the power of the emperor. He seemed to possess an absolute, unquestionable authority and… credibility. He could convince the entire empire that the construction of this tower was not merely a personal extravagant desire of the emperor, but a necessity concerning the “fate of the nation” and the “way of Heaven.” He could mobilize the vast bureaucratic machine to its fullest extent, convince potential workers that they would be paid, and convince the people of the realm that resources were being channeled towards this project without causing any major upheaval.

This ability to build consensus and unify will, combined with his unfathomable personal military prowess and seemingly genuinely prosperous governance, created an almost "sacred" legitimacy to his rule. The people may not have been "without resentment," but rather, faced with absolute power, tangible benefits, and a carefully crafted "grand narrative," they suppressed, transformed, or dissipated their grievances.

"Could it be... that he has really found a way to reconcile the contradiction between 'ambition' and 'people's strength'? To use 'new sources of funding', 'new technologies', and 'new organizations' to support his 'new ambitions'?"

Li Shimin frowned.

He recalled Qin Qiong's words: "Your Majesty's heart encompasses the whole world, and your ambition lasts for a thousand autumns."

Then I recalled that complete map of the world. Perhaps Yi Huawei's vision truly transcends the gains and losses of a single city, a single territories, or a single year's tax. His ambitions are vast, and therefore his methods must be unconventional. This sacrificial tower might not merely be a building, but rather a symbol, an experiment?
This speculation made Li Shimin feel dizzy. If it was true, then Emperor Hua's vision and methods were indeed beyond his comprehension. He himself had once aspired to create a prosperous era, but his thoughts and actions ultimately failed to break free from the constraints of wise rulers and virtuous ministers throughout history. Yi Huawei, however, seemed to be redefining "governing the country and bringing peace to the world" in an almost subversive way.

Amidst his curiosity, Li Shimin felt a deeper sense of awe, and a hint of something he himself was unwilling to admit...admiration? No, more of a sense of vigilance and caution. Faced with such an opponent and ruler, any judgment based on past experience could be misguided.

Looking up, I gazed at the colossal tower, its outline gradually revealed by the lights in the twilight, appearing even more mysterious and majestic. The spherical structure at the top of the tower began to glow softly, as if emanating from itself, like a low-hanging star in the deepening night.

This light seemed to illuminate not only the night sky of Luoyang, but also faintly reveal a vague corner of Li Shimin's heart. He was about to be exiled to Nan Yinzhou, a purely wild land devoid of Yi Huawei, such miracles, and such complex contradictions. There, could he, and how should he, utilize even the smallest fragment of insight he gleaned from this contradictory landscape?

Should we emulate their decisiveness in concentrating resources to accomplish major tasks? Or should we be wary of their tendency to overlook individual costs? Should we learn from their pioneering efforts in new technologies and resources? Or should we uphold certain bottom lines that they consider more fundamental, concerning "people-centeredness"?

These questions had no answers, but they gave Li Shimin an unprecedentedly complex anticipation for the inevitable meeting with Emperor Hua that was about to take place.

Night completely enveloped the capital city of Luoyang, and the lights of thousands of homes resembled a galaxy on earth. The Sacrifice Tower stood as the most dazzling, the loneliest, and the most enigmatic North Star in this galaxy.

This tower, like a silent declaration of the Chinese Empire, stands between heaven and earth, atop the ruins and rebirth of old Chang'an and Luoyang, and also in the hearts of all former noble families and aristocratic clans like Li Shimin. It coldly reminds them that the old era has long been crushed, and the new era possesses a power and spirit that they cannot comprehend or resist.

the world is huge.

But beneath this tower, personal ambition, family honor and disgrace, and even the rise and fall of dynasties all seem as insignificant as dust.

Li Shimin stood on the rooftop, the spring breeze ruffling his gray hair and faded robes. He gazed at the towering structure for a long, long time. Fear still lingered deep within him, but a more complex emotion, a mixture of utter awe, an overwhelming sense of reverence, and the boundless ambition of a pioneer unexpectedly ignited by this magnificent sight, surged fiercely within him.

The miasma of Lingnan, the mud of Zuojiang River, the humility of Siguoli, the sights and sounds along the way, the colossal pagoda of the capital city before my eyes... all these scenes intertwine together.

Nan Yinzhou, that unknown and wild continent, was no longer a place of pure exile in Li Shimin's heart. It had become a stage where he could perhaps escape the shadow of this giant tower and redefine "greatness" with his own hands.

Li Shimin slowly clenched his fist, his nails digging deeply into his palm. (End of Chapter)