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

In the secluded courtyard of the Honglu Temple, the Pope was scratching his head in front of the Xinhua Dictionary. His desolate figure gradually blurred, and the camera shot through layers of clouds, rapidly moving towards the vast territory beyond the Tang Dynasty.

The Earth today is no longer the quagmire of information isolation and fragmented governance.

As the steamships of the Tang Dynasty cleaved through the waves, carrying chests of exquisite silk, snow-white sugar, and jet-black gunpowder to various ports, an invisible yet powerful force was quietly covering the globe.

This power is called the "Great Tang Rules".

Europa, London.

At a high-class ball hosted by local nobles, the elegantly dressed duchesses did not gather to discuss jewelry, but instead surrounded a young nobleman who had returned from studying in Chang'an, their eyes filled with fervor and adoration.

"Viscount Charles, please recite that poem 'Bring in the Wine' one more time. Its powerful, 'flowing to the sea never to return' spirit terrifies my very soul!"

A young countess, holding up her skirt, clutched a copy of "Three Hundred Tang Poems" published by the Tang Dynasty Eastern Palace Publishing House. Overwhelmed with excitement, her fair neck was flushed.

Viscount Charles demurely adjusted his Tang Dynasty-style long gown, an authentic piece he had acquired through countless connections.

He cleared his throat and loudly recited in Mandarin with a London suburban accent, yet trying hard to imitate the flavor of Guanzhong: "Have you not seen the Yellow River's waters come down from the sky..."

The entire hall fell silent instantly, and all the nobles wore expressions of utter fascination.

In today's European high society, if you can't recite a few of Li Bai's poems or write a few crooked Chinese characters, you're considered an uneducated bumpkin who won't even receive an invitation.

Meanwhile, far away on the edge of the Amazon rainforest in South America.

Several Native American chiefs, their bodies covered in paint and feathers stuck in their noses, were squatting on the ground, staring longingly at a Tang Dynasty merchant.

The Tang Dynasty merchant held a glass ball that refracted seven colors in his hand, and said in a calm tone: "The old rules apply. This bag of gold can only be exchanged for ten of them. Moreover, your quotation application must be written in Chinese, or even in pinyin."

The elderly chief, sweating profusely, struggled to control his stiff tongue and uttered the most desperate cry of his life: "Big, big brother! Change! We want, we want this, sparkling, a sacred object!"

The merchant frowned, pulled out a piece of paper, and pointed to it: "Your pronunciation is off. Say it again. It's 'Big Brother, hello,' not 'Call me.' If you can't learn it, I'll go talk to the tribe next door."

The chieftain, terrified, knelt on the ground with a thud, grabbing the merchant's trouser leg and pleading in broken Chinese, "Brother, brother, don't go! I'll learn, I'll study every day, I'll read the dictionary!"

This cultural suppression is comprehensive and leaves no room for negotiation.

The clothing and etiquette of the Tang Dynasty, and even the braised pork recipe developed by the chefs of the Eastern Palace, were sweeping away the local culture.

Walking the streets of Paris, if you see a man wearing a tight-fitting jumpsuit, he will definitely be looked down upon by passersby; but if you wear a traditional Chinese suit with a cross-collar and wide sleeves, no matter how unattractive you look, you will be recognized as the most tasteful gentleman.

In the Eastern Palace, Li Chengqian listened to Wu Meiniang's report, a wicked smile playing on his lips, a smile he had expected.

"Your Highness, according to the current trend, literacy rates around the world are steadily increasing. Of course, they are learning the Chinese characters of our Great Tang Dynasty."

Wu Meiniang closed the account book, a hint of amazement in her beautiful eyes. "Especially in the Americas, Prince Li Ke has forced all rubber plantation workers to pass the Level 1 Chinese language exam, otherwise they will not be paid."

Li Chengqian stretched comfortably and took a bite of the crisp pear.

"That's right. When I first assigned them territory, I said we wouldn't engage in bloody massacres, we'd be doing 'civilization upgrades.' You want to eat? Sure, first learn how to write the word 'food.'"

"If they can't even speak the official language of the Tang Dynasty fluently, how high will the communication costs be? I don't have time to assign a translator to each of their tribes."

Wu Meiniang chuckled softly, "Now the whole world takes pride in speaking Tang language. Some tribal priests have even changed the Bible into the Analects, saying that it is the divine oracle sent down by heaven."

Li Chengqian laughed heartily; this was exactly the effect he wanted.

Military conquest can only provide temporary relief, while cultural assimilation can provide lasting results.

While that pope was carrying the Xinhua Dictionary in Chang'an, his followers were already captivated by the braised pork and Tang poetry of the Tang Dynasty.

"Report—!"

Xu Xiao hurried through the corridor, holding a special emergency report in his hand, with a strange look on his face.

"Your Highness, something has happened overseas."

Li Chengqian raised an eyebrow and asked casually, "Whose son got surrounded by those birdmen this time? Or did Li Tai choke on his steak again?"

"Neither. It's a small kingdom near the Mediterranean Sea, a place called something like 'Cyprus'."

Xu Xiao handed over the report: "An ordinary merchant sent by our Crown Prince was harassed by a local earl when he was buying olive oil."

"It is said that the count wanted to take our goods and even detained us in the dungeon, claiming that it was a rule passed down in his ancestral territory."

Li Chengqian's eyes instantly turned cold, and the pear in his mouth no longer tasted sweet.

"Rules? Under the very nose of the Tang Dynasty, who dares to talk about their own rules?"

Li Chengqian snorted coldly and looked at Xu Xiao, "How's that merchant? Did those barbarians torture him?"

Xu Xiao grinned, revealing a set of white teeth.

"No, that's not true. That merchant was a sensible man; he didn't draw his sword against the guards, nor did he beg for mercy."

He pulled the little red book out of his pocket and slapped it across the count's face.

Li Chengqian was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"That little notebook? He really took a picture of it?"

"It was filmed. It's said that the count was holding a crucifix and praying to God for protection when he saw the golden dragon on the red cover and immediately wet his pants."

The little red booklet that the Crown Prince issued to every merchant going to sea was no ordinary document.

That is the "Overseas Consular Protection Certificate for Chinese Citizens of the Great Tang Dynasty".

The homepage features a line of assertive Chinese characters printed in gold powder:

"Wherever the soldiers of the Great Tang go, they will be your backbone. If you encounter injustice, present this petition, and the Divine Machine Battalion will surely arrive within a hundred miles, and the Red-Clad Cannons will surely fire."

Li Chengqian stood up, straightened his sleeves, and his eyes were filled with murderous intent.

"Xu Xiao, relay my instructions to Lao Jiu. He's been in England for too long; his bones are probably rusting."

"Have him send a steam-powered ironclad ship over there and have it dock outside that little kingdom's pier for a day."

"I do not wish to see rivers of blood flow. I only wish to see that count write a letter of apology to my merchant in the most standard Chinese, no less than three thousand words, and memorize the entire letter."

Xu Xiao bowed and accepted the order: "Your Highness, rest assured, Prince Jin has long wanted to try out the newly equipped side-mounted cannons, and this excuse has come at just the right time."

Li Chengqian sat back down in his chair, gazing at the bustling city outside the window.

The world has changed, and the imprint of the Tang Dynasty is spreading like wildfire.

Whether it's the Pope or the King, they all have to learn what reverence means in the face of the Tang Dynasty's red book.

"Meiniang, do you think that count can write a three-thousand-character self-criticism in Chinese?"

"Your Highness, if he can't write it down, the temple in that little kingdom will probably become a public toilet in the Tang Dynasty."

The two smiled at each other, their laughter sounding especially pleasant in the warm sunshine of the East Palace.

Meanwhile, on that small island in the Mediterranean, the Tang Dynasty merchant was sitting ostentatiously on the count's throne.

Holding a small red notebook, he pointed to the faint black smoke appearing on the horizon outside the window and said to the trembling count:

"My lord, don't be in a daze. The first sentence of this self-criticism should be: 'Long live the Tang Dynasty.'"