Deposed? I couldn't be happier! I wouldn't even be a dog to the crown prince.

On the official road east of Chang'an, which was originally used to receive tribute envoys from foreign countries, a strangely styled procession was slowly moving.

At the head of the procession were several elderly Western men with stubble beards, dressed in gold-trimmed red robes. Behind them, on an oxcart, were piles of heavy gold crosses, dusty parchment scrolls, and various sacred objects said to grant "ascension to heaven."

The one at the head was none other than the Pope of Rome, who claimed to be acting on behalf of Heaven.

He originally enjoyed supreme power in that land called Europe. But ever since Prince Li Zhi of Jin landed with several thousand soldiers of the Shenji Battalion, carrying muskets and grenades, the Pope found that his "voice of God" suddenly stopped working.

Those kings used to kiss the tips of his shoes when they saw him. Now, they're all practically begging to recognize him as their own father just to get a few pounds of gunpowder from him.

The Pope was repeatedly humiliated and bullied for half a year, and finally, under Li Zhi's "caring for the vulnerable" gaze, he chose the last path.

He was coming to Chang'an. He wanted to meet the legendary Tang emperor, who could command lightning (telegraph machines) and steel dragons (trains), and use the Western Bible to influence this lost land.

"Bishop, is this the East we are meant to conquer?" The Pope lifted the carriage curtain, trying to maintain a holy smile.

However, the moment his gaze fell upon the outline of Chang'an, the poem of praise he had prepared got stuck in his throat.

The city walls were no longer simply made of rammed earth. Under the sunlight, the cement buildings, covered with smooth tiles and reflecting dazzling light, pierced the sky, each one more than ten stories taller than the Vatican's spires.

On the wide cement road, black horse-drawn carriages with rubber wheels shuttled back and forth. Even in the distance, a long steel train, billowing white smoke and roaring like thunder, sped past along the tracks.

"By God the Father...is this heaven?"

The silver cup in the hands of the accompanying archbishop clattered to the ground.

He stared at the neon signs made of light bulbs lining the street and quickly made the sign of the cross: "Those glowing spheres, do they imprison countless angels burning their souls inside?"

The Pope did not answer; he simply stared blankly at the majestic Taiji Palace, his once upright spine unconsciously collapsing halfway.

When this group of Westerners dressed in exotic clothing and looking horrified were brought into the Xuanzheng Hall, Li Chengqian was sitting on a specially made rocking chair next to the dragon throne, idly picking at his nails.

Li Shimin sat upright above, his majestic gaze sweeping over the Pope's magnificent yet comical red robe.

"Is this the Pope who...rules over half of Europe?" Li Shimin asked in a low voice.

Tang Jian quickly stepped forward: "Your Majesty, that's right. His words carried weight over there, but now the people there believe in Prince Jin's 'Scientology'."

The Pope took a deep breath, struggling to steady his trembling legs. He stepped forward slowly and shouted in a high-pitched Latin voice, sharp with tension:

"Great King of the East! I come representing God's will, carrying the Bible to save the world, crossing countless mountains and rivers. I hope to sow the seeds of God on this land..."

Before he could finish speaking, a sharp metallic scraping sound interrupted his speech.

Li Chengqian stood up from the rocking chair, picked his ear, and looked at the old man in red robes with disgust.

"Stop, stop, stop!"

Li Chengqian casually tossed the silver ear pick onto the table, lazily glancing sideways at the Pope.

"Old man, I don't care what your status is in Europe. But in the Tang Dynasty, no matter what kind of deity you are, once you arrive at my doorstep, you must first learn to speak Chinese."

The Pope was stunned. He looked blankly at the translator, then at the Tang Dynasty prince with a cynical expression.

The translator, sweating profusely, relayed the message.

The Pope, somewhat unconvinced, puffed out his belly: "Latin is a sacred language, the bond that connects us to God. To save the millions of lost souls of the Tang Dynasty, Your Majesty should..."

"Should be my ass."

Li Chengqian interrupted him directly.

"Old man, let me give you a lesson. In the Tang Dynasty, we worshipped the Dragon King for rain, the God of Wealth for wealth, and Guan Yu for loyalty. Your so-called God, can he help us build railways or help us grow corn?"

The Pope blushed and was about to retort when Li Chengqian pulled out a booklet from his robes that read "Supervised by the Ministry of Education of the Great Tang Dynasty" and casually tossed it onto the floor tiles in front of the Pope.

The booklet cover prominently displays four large characters: "Chinese Language Proficiency Test Level 4".

"Want to preach in the Tang Dynasty? Sure. I'm a democratic person and I don't engage in religious persecution."

Li Chengqian walked up to the Pope and patted him on the shoulder, a gesture no different from patting a stray dog.

"But the Tang Dynasty has its own rules. All foreign personnel who wish to engage in cultural dissemination activities in the Tang Dynasty must hold a certificate to work."

"Starting tomorrow, you will live in the international student dormitory at the Honglu Temple. When you pass the HSK Level 4 exam and can recite 'The Ballad of Mulan' fluently, I will consider issuing you a temporary business license."

The Pope stared at the book on the ground, filled with strange, square characters, and was completely bewildered, a state he had never experienced before.

He couldn't even understand the title of the booklet, let alone comprehend the complex tones within it.

"Holy Father...this...this is too difficult," the bishop behind the Pope pleaded softly.

Li Chengqian sneered and turned to look at Tang Jian.

"Lord Tang, you are in charge of supervising. Not only will you test his Chinese language skills, but also his history and law. Focus on 'picking quarrels and provoking trouble' and 'illegal fundraising.' If he dares to use the guise of a deity to swindle money from the common people, send him directly to Bai Qi as a laborer."

Tang Jian, understanding the implication, bowed respectfully: "Your Highness is wise. This humble subject will certainly show His Holiness the Pope the profound and extensive culture of the Tang Dynasty."

Li Shimin watched from above with amusement. He had initially worried that these Westerners might cause trouble, but now, judging from Li Chengqian's procedures, the trouble was probably all on the Pope's side.

"Well... Your Holiness. Since Chengqian has set the rules for you, just follow them. I think the material of your red robe is quite good. Send it to the Imperial Wardrobe to have two undergarments made for my beloved concubine. Later, I will reward you with a set of Tang Dynasty linen robes. Those things are breathable."

The Pope swayed and almost fainted on the spot.

His original vision was that he would use miracles to awe the East, and the Tang emperor would worship him.

The reality, however, was that he had to memorize Chinese characters like a child and hand over the red robe he regarded as sacred.

"Your Majesty... Your Highness the Crown Prince... I really can't..."

Li Chengqian raised an eyebrow, his voice turning colder.

"What? Don't want to learn? Xu Xiao, see them out. Just then, Lao Jiu sent a telegram saying England needs a few toilet cleaners..."

"I'll learn! I'll learn!"

The Pope knelt down with a thud, clutching the "Chinese Proficiency Test Level 4" book tightly, as if it were his only lifeline.

Li Chengqian lay back down in the rocking chair and waved to Wu Meiniang.

"Meiniang, go get a pen for this Pope, and while you're at it, sell him a copy of the Xinhua Dictionary. Remember, it's a limited edition, priced at two hundred taels of gold, no discounts."

Wu Zetian smiled secretly and turned to go to the inner treasury to retrieve a book.

The Pope stood in the center of the hall, holding the heavy dictionary. A gentle breeze ruffled his beard, making him appear both forlorn and comical.

Meanwhile, outside the long street, a caravan returning from Tibet was discussing the price of cloth for the season in fluent Chang'an Mandarin.

This silent, insidious cultural assimilation is far more terrifying than guns and cannons.

"Your Highness, shall we really allow them to open churches in the Tang Dynasty in the future?" Tang Jian leaned closer and asked in a low voice.

Li Chengqian squinted, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

"Go ahead and open it, why not? I've already thought of a name for it: 'The Office of the Great Tang Sinicized God.' Inside, we'll not only enshrine God, but also Buddha and Laozi. Since everyone's a deity, wouldn't it be more lively to sit together and play mahjong?"

Tang Jian was stunned for a moment, then gave Li Chengqian a thumbs up.

"Your Highness, you understand religious integration. I just wonder if the Pope would be so angry upon hearing this that he would immediately renounce his vows."

Li Chengqian waved his hand and looked at the still magnificent Chang'an outside the palace.

"Whether he returns to secular life or not is none of my concern; I only care about his score on the Chinese exam next year."

"Your Highness, what if he actually passes the exam?"

"He passed the exam? Then let him take the HSK Level 6 exam, and... that Tang Dynasty Administrative Ability Test."