My hotel is full of emperors throughout history.

In the tenth year of Zhenguan, at the Dengzhou Wharf.

When the first batch of "divine artifacts" transported from Chang'an arrived, even the well-informed Cheng Yaojin was dumbfounded.

Those were twenty enormous wooden crates, each requiring eight strongmen to lift.

The box was sealed with a seal from the Imperial Workshop, and on the seal was Li Shimin's own handwritten annotation: "Do not open during peacetime."

Cheng Yaojin circled the box three times, scratching his head in frustration.

"Your Highness, what exactly is in here?"

Li Chengqian did not answer.

He simply pulled out a key from his pocket, which his father had personally given him before he left.

When the first box was opened, everyone present took a step back.

There were fifty black iron implements lying inside.

It wasn't a knife, it wasn't a gun, it was some kind of shape I'd never seen before.

It has a wooden stock, a curved grip, a slender iron pipe, and a crescent-shaped magazine.

Li Chengqian picked up a cigarette.

"This is called an automatic rifle," he whispered. "It can fire bullets continuously, a hundred times faster than a crossbow."

Cheng Yaojin opened his mouth wide.

A hundred times faster than a bow and arrow? What does that even mean?

Li Chengqian smiled but said nothing more.

The second box was opened.

Inside were rows of neatly stacked bullet boxes, the bright yellow bullets gleaming dazzlingly in the sunlight.

The third box was opened.

Rocket launcher.

Although I don't know what this is or how to use it.

Just by looking at it, Cheng Yaojin knew that this thing was no ordinary object.

"Your Highness," his voice trembled, "this thing...are we really going to use it?"

Li Chengqian stared at those things and remained silent for a moment.

"General Cheng," he said, "my father once said something..."

"What did you say?"

"War is never fair."

Li Chengqian turned his head.

The warships were ready at the dock.

The Imperial Workshop Directorate barely slept for a month, rushing to build over two hundred warships of various sizes.

The largest of these ships consisted of twenty five-story towers, each capable of carrying five hundred soldiers. They were designed specifically for naval warfare, with iron-clad bows and crossbow windows on both sides.

In addition, there were grain transport ships, scout ships, fire attack ships... densely packed, filling Dengzhou Bay.

"Ready, ready! Let's go!"

"OK!"

Cheng Yaojin chuckled, turned around, and roared at the busy officers and soldiers on the dock:

"Hurry up, all of you! Are you dawdling around waiting for the Japanese to cook their rice so you can freeload?!"

Twenty days later, Tsushima Island.

This is the westernmost barrier of Japan and the gateway to Kyushu.

The island is garrisoned by Japanese troops—about three thousand men, according to scouts, mostly private soldiers of local powerful families, with mediocre combat capabilities.

Cheng Yaojin means to go around.

"Let's take over the entire Nine Provinces!"

He pointed at the nautical chart, his large fingers making a loud thud on the parchment.

"Tsushima is such a tiny place, it's useless to take it, it'll only waste time. Once we take Kyushu, it'll have no choice but to surrender."

Li Chengqian shook his head.

"We can't go around it."

Cheng Yaojin was taken aback: "Why?"

Li Chengqian gazed at the small black dot on the nautical chart and slowly said:

"General Cheng, think about it—if our army circles the island, won't the Japanese troops on the island follow us? If they take advantage of our battle with the Kyushu garrison to stab us in the back, leaving us attacked from both sides, how will we cope?"

Cheng Yaojin was stunned.

How to deal with it?

Let's clean it all up together!

Just a few thousand Japanese!

"not to mention,"

Li Chengqian pointed to the nautical chart.

"Tsushima Island is the last line of defense for the Japanese mainland. If our army bypasses it and marches straight into Kyushu, the news will cause panic throughout Japan, and they will definitely fight to the death. But if we take Tsushima first..."

He paused.

"First cut off one of his fingers, then take his head."

Cheng Yaojin stared at him for a long time.

Suddenly, he smiled.

"Your Highness," he said in a deep voice, "I now believe—you are truly His Majesty's son."

Li Chengqian did not laugh.

He simply stared at the small piece of land on the nautical chart and murmured.

"Send the order—prepare for landing."

North coast of Tsushima Island.

The sea was as black as ink, with only a few sparks burning on the beacon towers on the distant islands.

Thirty small boats silently docked at the shore.

Li Chengqian was the first to jump into the sea.

The seawater was icy cold and instantly soaked through his robes.

He gritted his teeth, holding a sword in one hand and protecting the wooden box wrapped tightly in oilcloth in the other, and walked step by step toward the shore.

Behind him, five hundred people followed silently.

No one spoke, no one made any unnecessary noise.

The only sounds were the rushing seawater and the soft rustling of footsteps on the sand.

Thirty feet away on the shore was the Japanese army's camp.

Faint voices could be heard coming from the camp; some were drinking, some were laughing, and others were singing some strange tune in Japanese.

They clearly did not notice anything unusual.

Li Chengqian lay on the beach, staring at the camp, his heart pounding like a drum.

He reached out and gently untied the oilcloth covering the wooden box.

The wooden box was opened.

Inside lay ten black iron weapons—automatic rifles—and several bulging magazines.

This was the first time he had actually used these things.

Even if you've seen it on TV countless times before, it's still just watching.

This is the first time it will be used on the battlefield.

He took a deep breath, picked up a rifle, and, following the steps he remembered, released the safety and pulled the bolt.

"Click."

The sound was exceptionally clear in the quiet night.

The laughter in the camp seemed to pause for a moment.

Li Chengqian's heart was in his throat.

A moment later, laughter rang out again.

He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to look at the soldiers behind him.

Five hundred men, one gun for every five men.

This was something he and Cheng Yaojin had agreed upon—there were only so many guns, and not everyone could use them.

The first wave of attacks was led by gunmen who cleared the way, with the rest following with knives.

He raised his right hand and clenched his fist.

Five hundred people held their breath.

He suddenly swung his right hand down.

"beat!"

The first gunshot shattered the silence of the night.

The sound was so loud, it seemed otherworldly.

The muzzle flashed, illuminating half of Li Chengqian's face.

His shoulders were jolted back by the recoil, and he almost fell over.

But he didn't stop.

He pulled the trigger, again and again—

"Da da da da da—"

Bullets rained down like a storm.

Splinters of sawdust flew up from the wooden fence. The tents were riddled with holes.

Before a Japanese soldier holding a wine bowl could react, a burst of blood erupted from his chest, and he fell backward.

"Aaaaaahh ...

The camp was in an uproar.

Screams, gasps, and the sounds of people falling mingled together.

More gunfire rang out.

Five hundred men, ten guns, taking turns firing.

Gunshots rang out like popping beans, crackling and popping, echoing throughout the entire beach.

One by one, the lights in the camp went out—not because they wanted to, but because the oil lamps were knocked over by bullets, and the flames spread everywhere.

Someone rushed out of the tent, but before he could run three steps, he was shot down.

Someone knelt on the ground, covered their head with their hands, and was shouting something frantically in Japanese.

Someone grabbed a bow and arrow, but before the bow could be drawn, the person had already fallen.

Li Chengqian emptied the first magazine.

His hands were trembling.

It's not fear.

It's an instinctive reaction after an adrenaline surge.

"Keep fighting!"

He roared.

Gunshots rang out again.

The camp is already on fire.

Flames shot into the sky, illuminating the entire beach.

Those who hadn't been killed rushed out of the inferno, their bodies engulfed in flames, screaming as they collapsed to the ground, struggling before falling still.

The air was thick with the stench of burning—charred wood, charred cloth, and charred...

Li Chengqian felt a churning in his stomach.

He forced himself to suppress it, gritted his teeth, and continued firing.

"Click."

Empty gun.

He looked down and saw that the magazine was empty again.

He raised his head and looked at the camp.

The firelight illuminated half the sky.

The village gate had been riddled with holes and hung crookedly.

The shouts in the camp gradually subsided, leaving only the crackling of flames and the occasional faint groan.

"……stop."

He raised his hand.

The gunfire stopped.

The beach was deathly silent.

Only flames were burning, only waves were crashing, only the wind was howling.

Li Chengqian stood up and walked step by step toward the camp.

He was standing on sand, gravel, and bullet casings, and—when he looked down, he saw a severed hand.

His stomach churned again.

He forced himself to move forward, stepped over the hand, and continued walking.

Entering the camp.

The ground was littered with corpses.

Some collapsed inside the tents, some at the entrance, and some by the fire. Their postures and expressions varied, but they all shared one thing in common—

They are all dead.

Then, the banner of the Tang Dynasty was raised.

Not long after, Cheng Yaojin arrived with his men, and Chen Mo was stunned by the sight of the corpses scattered on the ground.

A quarter of an hour.

Of the three thousand people, more than half were gone.

He shook his head.

"Your Highness," he said, "this thing...should be used sparingly in the future."

Li Chengqian turned to look at him, remained silent for a moment, and then suddenly blurted out a sentence.

"Times have changed."