LFHYB -Chapter 118 Receiving Intelligence from the Western Turks for Free

After Li Xuanba swore a blood oath with Khagan Shekui and became a sworn brother of another surname, he did not immediately leave Yiwu City.

Heavy snow fell over Yiwu City. For safety, Li Xuanba decided to wait until the weather warmed slightly before departing.

Thus, this year he had the rare experience of celebrating a birthday without his twin brother by his side.

Li Zhiyun, still clinging to Li Xuanba’s back like in childhood, teased with a grin, “Without Second Brother, I’ll keep you company!”

“Mm-mm-mm, get down, Xiao Wu.” Li Xuanba turned to look at the frolicking Li Zhiyun and couldn’t help but sigh.

Even in snowy weather, being able to chase rabbits and foxes with a group of Turks—Xiao Wu is truly a pure Li family member.

Could it be that only his own temperament leaned toward his mother, with a greater love of reading?

Li Xuanba refused to admit it: he didn’t dislike hunting, it was just that his body was weak.

Li Zhiyun jumped down from Li Xuanba’s back. “Third Brother, are you off chatting with the Turks again today? How do you always have so much to talk about with those barbarians?”

Li Xuanba patiently explained, “Their understanding of the Western Regions comes from first-hand intelligence. Rarely, they are willing to open up to me, so I naturally ask more questions.”

Li Zhiyun was puzzled. “But aren’t they willing to share intelligence with you because your intelligence is more detailed?”

Li Xuanba revealed a mysterious smile. “No, my intelligence is not more detailed. I merely successfully deceived them, making them believe my intelligence is more comprehensive.”

Li Xuanba put down his book and beckoned Li Zhiyun to sit beside him.

Just then, Luo Shixin came in asking Li Zhiyun if he wanted to go catch rabbits again, and Li Xuanba also kept him there.

Seeing this, Zhou Da ran off immediately, leaving Li Xuanba helpless.

Li Xuanba had hoped to cultivate Zhou Da into a renowned minister, but everyone has their own aspirations. Zhou Da got headaches just listening to Li Xuanba’s long lectures, let alone reading books himself.

Historically, Zhou Da would have been a household-born son of the Duke of Tang. Many followed the Duke’s uprising, yet few left their names in history. Most household-born sons of the Duke left no mark on the annals, perhaps because their abilities were lacking in addition to their status.

Ma Sanbao, also a servant in the Chai Shao household, was no better off in birth than this group of household-born sons, yet he still secured a place among Tang’s early generals.

Since Zhou Da was unwilling to strive, Li Xuanba did not force him.

After all, even if Zhou Da did not rise to the level of a top-tier meritorious official, he could at least become a mid-level official—a class leap in itself. Not striving wasn’t a problem.

But Luo Shixin had talent; if pushed, he could focus on learning, and Li Xuanba would not let him off.

Li Zhiyun also would not let Luo Shixin off.

Luo Shixin was Li Zhiyun’s first friend, so whether enjoying fortune or suffering misfortune, Li Zhiyun would drag Luo Shixin along. Same for attending lessons.

Luo Shixin cherished Li Zhiyun as well. Even if keeping up with Li Zhiyun’s progress was difficult, he gritted his teeth and persisted.

With the students in place, Li Xuanba opened the conversation.

The content he wanted to explain was actually quite simple.

Previously, Li Xuanba had mentioned to Li Zhiyun and Luo Shixin that the Han Dynasty’s understanding of Western nations relied on the Silk Road.

This did not mean the Han knew nothing of the world beyond the Silk Road, but rather the difference between “first-hand” and “second-hand” intelligence.

The former, like Changsun Sheng administering the Western Regions, personally collected intelligence after living among the Turks for over ten years; the latter, like Pei Sheju administering the Western Regions, relied on merchants from Zhangye and border towns to gather information.

Although Li Xuanba relied on later-generation records, with many first-hand details preserved today, the historical texts recorded only a few lines, which surely differed significantly from the true situation in the Western Regions.

He used the concrete event of the “Battle of Jerusalem” to plant the subconscious idea in Khagan Shekui’s mind that his intelligence must be first-hand.

Then, he added some “second-hand” intelligence from networks and museums to reinforce the lie, successfully making Khagan Shekui believe he knew the Western nations inside out.

Afterward, the matters in the Western Regions that Li Xuanba discussed with Khagan Shekui, though made vivid by online images and museum artifacts, could actually be learned directly from the people of the West—whether it was architecture, military, goods, or currency. Without the pretext of the “Battle of Jerusalem,” Khagan Shekui would never have been deceived.

What Li Xuanba was doing now was pretending to “share intelligence” under the pretense that he had already tricked Khagan Shekui, taking advantage of the Khan’s firsthand information about the Western nations for free.

The intelligence that Khagan Shekui openly provided filled in the bare bones of Li Xuanba’s knowledge about the West, giving it flesh and blood, which made it easier for Li Xuanba to deceive Khagan Shekui and extract even more information.

For example, Li Xuanba only knew about the current Persian Emperor, Khosrow II.

Khagan Shekui had planted many “spies” in the Persian Empire and knew all the high-ranking officials and noble families. Li Xuanba then used world historical information about Khosrow II as a cover to extract the truly valuable intelligence on Persia’s aristocracy from Khagan Shekui.

This was not just to continue deceiving Khagan Shekui—it was also for the Tang dynasty’s strategic planning in the Western Regions.

In an age without airplanes or satellite mapping, all knowledge of foreign lands came from what one could reach on foot.

The stronger a nation, the more it knew of the world. Just as the Eastern Han obtained firsthand information about the Greek Peninsula.

But just as the Han’s attempt to establish relations with Rome was blocked by the Parthian Empire, Tang’s trade routes with the Eastern Roman Empire were also cut off by the rising Arab Empire.

Li Xuanba did not want the Eurasian land bridge to become unified. It was far more beneficial to Tang for a few empires to be in chaos.

If this region stabilized, powers like the Western Turks and Tibet would also settle, and their attention would turn to Tang.

Tang had not even fully developed Jiangnan, Lingnan, and the Yunnan-Guizhou regions. The territories of the Western Turks and Tibet were indispensable—they could not be abandoned, but needed to be made compliant as Tang’s tributaries under external pressure.

Achieving this, however, would be extremely difficult for Li Xuanba.

In the East, there was a “mandate-endowed” person named Li Shimin, and in the West, another “mandate-endowed” figure appeared.

This “overpowered” individual was Muhammad.

Muhammad, the prophet of Islam and founder of the Arab Empire, lost his parents at six, his grandfather at eight, and was raised by his uncle. At 23, he managed a caravan for a wealthy widow, and around 40 married her, finally living in comfort.

For a normal person, life might peak there—but his legendary journey was only beginning.

At 50, Muhammad devoted himself to religion; at 60, he was persecuted by nobles and driven away. He realized that preaching alone could not save the fractured Arabs, so he worked for ten years, and at 70 established the Arab Empire.

To the Arab people, his story was like Confucius traveling the states during the Spring and Autumn period, realizing that teaching alone could not unify the divided Central Plains, and thus uniting the Eastern Zhou with his disciples—becoming a figure akin to the First Emperor.

Of course, this does not suggest he was greater than Confucius or the First Emperor. It just shows a level of extraordinary “cheat code” power that even Qin Shi Huang, Han Wu, or Tang Taizong would admire.

Under Muhammad’s legacy, his successors destroyed the once-powerful Persian Empire in just ten years, swallowing Egypt along the way.

The path ahead was vast; even if Li Xuanba pulled in his equally overpowered second brother Li Shimin, they could not stop the prophet’s unstoppable rise.

Moreover, Tang could not afford to expend huge manpower and resources on such distant conflicts. Tang people themselves were struggling just to feed themselves.

What Li Xuanba wanted to do was much like the historical Tang Gaozong.

By Gaozong’s reign, Tang had some understanding of the Western Regions and tried to use Persia to counter the Western Turks.

But Persia was weak and corrupt, and could not withstand the overpowered Arabs, eventually being destroyed. Tang even considered helping Persia restore its empire, but the distance made it impossible.

Li Xuanba aimed to intervene early in Persian politics, hoping to inject some vitality into the declining Khosrow II and prevent internal collapse.

The rise of the Arab Empire was inevitable, but with Persia acting as a buffer between Tang and the Arabs, Tang could handle the Western Regions far more smoothly.

Moreover, Persia had been flourishing there since ancient times. Tang’s intervention was just and rightful, and the Persian descendants had always resisted the Arabs, with a chance to restore their kingdom.

Historical records clearly show that Tibet’s annexation of the Western Regions and the repeated rebellions of the Western Turks were all connected to the Arab Empire.

During the Kaiyuan era, Arab-supported allies clashed five times with the Turks who submitted to Tang. These proxy wars were all victories for Tang, delaying the Arab eastward expansion by nearly fifty years.

But the Arab Empire remained aggressive, constantly pushing east.

Thus, in the 10th year of the Tianbao era (751 CE), Tang and Arab forces met in the Congling Mountains (modern Kazakhstan), and Tang was defeated.

Famed historian Barthold believed this battle decided Central Asia’s fate, giving it to the Arabs.

Western historians generally adopt this view, seeing the Battle of Talas and the same-year Tang failure against Nanzhao as triggers for the An Lushan Rebellion.

In recent years, Chinese historians, using new evidence, argue that although Tang lost, it was only a probe; both sides halted further expansion, delineating spheres of influence. Tang and the Arab Empire were unharmed and relations unaffected.

However, four years later, in the 14th year of Tianbao, the An Lushan Rebellion broke out. Tang declined, Tibet seized the Hexi Corridor, and Tang lost control of the Western Regions.

Li Xuanba personally favored his own historians’ account, but it was certain that Tibet’s rise and the Western Turks’ rebellion were supported by the Arab Empire.

If the Persian Empire could be preserved, it would face pressure from the Arab Empire and thus serve as a stable ally for the Tang Dynasty. The Western Turkic and Tibetan powers would then lack support from the Arabs.

Even if the Tang were to decline again, China would have fewer external threats and the people might suffer less.

Without external threats at all, it might even be possible for the Tang to implement reforms and revive the dynasty, potentially allowing the next unified empire to emerge without going through the “Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms” period—a time even darker than the Wei, Jin, and Northern and Southern Dynasties.

Future matters would be slowly discussed between Li Xuanba and his second brother after he returned. Li Zhiyun and Luo Shixin’s fragile hearts could not yet bear such pressure. Li Xuanba only spoke of the future Western campaigns and the involvement of several major Western empires.

“They, like the Turks, cannot be too strong, nor can they be wiped out. Ideally, they would remain in perpetual stalemate so that they can maintain friendly relations with us,” Li Xuanba said. “We can directly govern the Turkic territories, but the Western regions are too distant to control directly. Therefore, we must make them come to us willingly.”

Li Zhiyun clicked his tongue repeatedly. “Third Brother! My Third Brother! It’s still the Sui Dynasty! Second Brother hasn’t even become emperor yet! We don’t know how long it will take to unify the empire, let alone defeat the Eastern and Western Turks! How can you already be scheming over the Western countries?”

Luo Shixin felt dizzy.

He had thought that life’s greatest achievement would be helping the general unify the empire. If he lived a little longer, maybe adding the conquest of the Eastern and Western Turks. But the Western countries were so far away!

Li Xuanba laughed: “You must have confidence in General Li Er. The world is within reach. Perhaps my schemes concerning the Western countries won’t be useful in our generation, but if they can lighten the burden for future generations and ease the suffering of future people, and it costs so little effort, why not do it?”

At the very least, in this timeline, even if the Tang lost the Western regions, with the help of “allies,” the isolated army of the Protectorate of Anxi could be brought back safely.

The Protectorate of Anxi, hanging alone overseas, had Tang troops fighting alone for more than forty years, and by 808 CE, all had fallen on the battlefield.

Fallen leaves return to their roots; loyal souls return home.

Li Zhiyun propped his chin in his hand. “Alright, Third Brother has such lofty ambitions. Your younger brother supports you! So what you’re saying is that in places we cannot directly govern, they must have multiple leaders. They cannot be unified under one ruler who might come to attack us, right?”

Luo Shixin nodded vigorously. “I understand! Just like the Western and Eastern Turks fighting each other! We absolutely cannot allow the Turks to unite!”

Li Xuanba sighed. “Very clever. Exactly like that.”

This approach was something the historical Tang Taizong executed very well, commonly called the “art of balance.”

After Tang Taizong destroyed the Eastern Turkic regime, he did not eliminate the Eastern Turkic khans. Instead, he placed several khans of the Ashina lineage among the Turks, letting them fight each other. Whoever grew weak, he would tip the balance against them, preventing unification.

The Qing Dynasty later applied the same principle with the Mongol “banner system.”

Early in his reign, Tang Gaozong continued Tang Taizong’s policy. But later, the emperor and empress felt they needed to achieve even greater accomplishments than Taizong, so they abandoned the “art of balance,” allowing and helping their allied powers to unify the steppes.

However, at that time, the Tang’s technology and economy could not directly govern the Western regions and the steppes, which led to repeated rebellions by the Western Turks and reunification of the northern steppes by the Ashina clan, straining the Tang treasury.

Tang Xuanzong also made mistakes in this regard. When he saw that Nanzhao was in chaos, he helped one of its tribes unify the region. Once Nanzhao became strong, it rebelled.

The Tang army failed to suppress the rebellion. Western historians consider this, along with the Battle of Talas, as one of the triggers for the Anshi Rebellion. Leaving that aside, the campaign did indeed bring great losses to the Tang.

Tang Gaozong and Empress Wu were politically capable rulers. Tang Xuanzong, when making this decision, was not incompetent either—still a wise ruler.

But Tang Taizong, as one of the few “strategists” in Chinese history, had superior vision.

Military generals are common; strategists are rare.

This time, Third Brother should carefully document his strategic thinking to teach future generations. Even if later descendants lack strategists, they might follow the ancestors’ guidance and learn a thing or two.

Of course, it’s more likely that some future emperor, thinking “I’m strong; I will achieve what my ancestors could not,” will still mess things up.

As for writing “ancestral teachings must not be changed” to prevent future chaos—it’s unrealistic. Situations change rapidly, and rulers need to adjust policies according to reality.

Looking at the Ming Dynasty’s “lessons from the past,” vested interests are very good at exploiting “ancestral teachings must not be changed” for their own gain.

Li Zhiyun looked puzzled. “Third Brother, what are you daydreaming about?”

Li Xuanba withdrew his wandering thoughts and smiled. “Even Xiao Wu can understand. Looks like my teaching skills are quite good.”

Li Zhiyun beamed. “That’s because I’m smart! Third Brother, you should say even Shixin can understand, proving your teaching skills are good.”

Luo Shixin rolled his eyes at Li Zhiyun and mouthed for him to wait.

Once Third Brother left, he would definitely have a proper sparring session with Li Zhiyun.

Seeing Luo Shixin’s little gesture, Li Xuanba laughed and concluded today’s lesson, letting Luo Shixin and Li Zhiyun go “spar” outside.

Being verbally cheeky comes with the expectation of “getting hit”—another lesson from their elder brother.

Li Xuanba revealed a kind, caring smile for his brothers.

…

In early February, the temperature in Yiwu warmed. Although the river had not yet thawed, Li Xuanba, seeing clear weather for several days, prepared to take leave from Khagan Shekui and return to Zhangye.

Shekui Khagan dispatched a thousand men to escort Li Xuanba. Led by his trusted tribesman Nishu and carrying a large quantity of gifts, including three hundred fine horses, they formally  allied with Li Shimin, the general of the Sui Dynasty’s He You army.

Nishu was a middle-aged man with a kind face and spoke Chinese even more fluently than Khagan Shekui.

In conversation with Li Xuanba, he showed surprising familiarity with Confucian classics, which most Turks do not care to read. If not for his attire, one might have thought he was a Sui scholar.

Li Xuanba always felt that the name “Nishu” sounded somewhat familiar.

But most Turkic names tended to be repetitive, and sometimes personal names were almost like official titles. It was similar to how in China, some people had the surname “Sima” because an ancestor once held the office of Sima. With just one awkward-sounding name, Li Xuanba found it really hard to connect this person with the historical figures recorded in the books.

It wasn’t until Nishu expressed his admiration for Central Plains culture that Li Xuanba reluctantly equated him with someone from the historical records.

The Nishu family held the hereditary office of “Mohe She.” Currently, the Mohe She of the Western Turks was Nishu’s father, and in the future, Nishu would inherit this position.

If one linked “Nishu, Mohe She” with “admiration for the Central Plains,” then this middle-aged “scholar” Nishu was very likely the first Western Turkic khan appointed by the Tang Dynasty—the Khagan Chuluo.

If that was truly him, his father would have become sworn brothers with Prince Li Shimin, who was then living leisurely in Chang’an during the Wude era. So… this means he’s my future nephew?

Seeing Li Xuanba’s strange expression, Nishu asked in confusion, “Li Sanlang, is there something on my face?”

Li Xuanba said, “Nothing… I just noticed your beard is really unique.”

Nishu touched the large braid of his beard with pride. “I love my beard the most. I take great care of it! With this style, do I count as one of your Central Plains ‘Bearded Gentlemen’?”

Li Xuanba complimented him, though insincerely: “Yes, absolutely!”

Nishu was extremely pleased by the praise. “You compliment my beard, then we’re friends. I hear you can train hawks. When I return to my tribe, I’ll send you some fine hawks.”

Li Xuanba was about to reply when a clump of grass fell from the sky, hitting Nishu on the head.

Nishu looked up in shock. A golden eagle circled overhead, chirping as it flew.

Another golden eagle came swooping in, flapping its wings at the first eagle, seemingly trying to drive it away from dropping the grass.

Nishu took a deep breath. “A Grassland Spirit?!”

Li Xuanba rubbed his forehead. “Not a Grassland Spirit—it’s my golden eagle. It’s a little… petty.”

Nishu looked puzzled. “Petty?”

Li Xuanba explained, “You just mentioned sending me hunting hawks…”

Nishu’s eyes widened. “It actually understood what I said? Ah, I remember now! I heard you raise Grassland Spirits! So it’s true! When I was in Yiwu, why didn’t I see these two Grassland Spirits?”

Li Xuanba’s expression turned strange.

How could he explain that these two eagles, except for flying out at noon, usually despised the freezing Yiwu weather and preferred to burrow in their bedding for a nap?

He even wondered if Hangu and Wudi would get too fat to fly when they returned.

Seeing Li Xuanba’s expression, Nishu immediately understood. “I get it, I get it. Grassland Spirits are free by nature. They must circle over snowy plains and high mountains, unwilling to descend into human cities!”

Li Xuanba: “…Right.” Not into cities—into their blankets.

Nishu looked enviously at the golden eagles cursing in the air. “Seeing these Grassland Spirits makes my hundreds of hawks look pale in comparison.”

Li Xuanba: “…Hundreds?!”

He calmly asked, “You’re also skilled at training hawks? Could you part with a few to sell to me? I want to give them to the Emperor of Sui.”

Nishu smiled. “Sell a few hawks? I’ll personally pick the best ones for you when I return.”

Li Xuanba bowed on horseback. “Thank you. I’m in charge of the border market at Zhangye. If you ever want any Central Plains specialties, just let me know.”

“Li Sanlang, you’re generous!” Nishu said happily. “Since you say that, I won’t hold back.”

Li Xuanba said, “Good, you shouldn’t. I live among soldiers most of the year and can’t tolerate timid people.”

Nishu nodded. “Same here.”

Li Zhiyun, seeing his third brother still happily chatting with the Western Turkic noble, yawned and said to Luo Shixin, “Why hasn’t our second brother arrived yet? We’re almost at Zhangye.”

Luo Shixin raised his hand to shield his eyes and looked into the distance. “Someone’s coming, but I’m not sure if it’s the general.”

Soon, Li Xuanba also noticed the approaching person.

“Changsun Silang?” Li Xuanba was surprised. “When did you get to Zhangye?”

Changsun Wuji had been pleased to see Li Xuanba, but upon hearing his words, his expression turned slightly resentful. “You left just as I arrived. I suspect you did it on purpose. Li Er went to visit the Tianzhu tribe again. Seeing his sneaky look, he must be plotting something, but he didn’t tell me. So I’m here to meet you—are you disappointed?”

Li Xuanba sighed. “Not disappointed—worried. It’s freezing, so our second brother surely didn’t go hunting. I just don’t know what mischief he’s up to.”

Changsun Wuji said, “Fang Xuanling is in Xihai Commandery; he should be able to keep an eye on Li Er.”

Li Xuanba replied, “Even if he can, it’s impossible—I can’t even keep an eye on him myself. Changsun Silang, let me introduce you: this is the young Mohe She of the Western Turks, Nishu.”

Having been trained under his father’s strict guidance, a piece of knowledge flashed reflexively in Changsun Wuji’s mind: “The Nishu family, hereditary Mohe She of the Tongyehu tribe? Welcome, welcome.” This was a major Western Turkic noble—the big fish!

The knowledge instilled by his father began spinning on its own in Changsun Wuji’s mind, popping up one idea after another like bubbles.

Nishu, surprised, asked, “You know me? Are people from Sui this familiar with the Western Turks?”

Li Xuanba smiled and continued the introduction. “Nishu, this is Changsun Wuji, courtesy name Fujji, fourth in order—so I call him Changsun Silang. He is the youngest son of General Changsun Sheng of Sui and the one most loved and valued by his father.”

Changsun Wuji came back to himself. Though he didn’t know why Li Xuanba was praising him, he couldn’t help feeling a bit proud. “Not at all… Hiss! What are your expressions!”

Just after Li Xuanba finished introducing him, Nishu and almost all the Western Turks who had heard the introduction suddenly turned serious, their eyes burning as they fixed on Changsun Wuji.

Nearly a hundred people turned to look in unison, and the sight nearly spooked Changsun Wuji’s horse.

Nishu examined Changsun Wuji for a long moment before speaking in a strange tone, “His father… is that General Changsun?”

Li Xuanba smiled: “It’s that General Changsun.”

Nishu took a deep breath: “I’ve heard that General Changsun could kill two birds with one arrow. A tiger begets no dog, so I suppose Young Master Changsun can as well. Please, Young Master Changsun, teach me!”

Changsun Wuji: “Ah?!” What’s going on? Why do they suddenly want to compete in archery with me?

After Nishu spoke, the Western Turk nobles behind him also began speaking with displeased expressions—they all wanted to compete in archery with Changsun Wuji.

Changsun Wuji: “……”

He finally realized the problem.

It seemed, perhaps, maybe, he had just encountered “the sins of the father fall upon the son”?