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

Chang'an City, Taiji Palace.

That roar, which traveled across the ocean and almost shattered the marble floor tiles, still echoed between the strong beams of the Imperial Study.

My gaze abruptly shifted from the warm, salty sea breeze of Hawaii, instantly crashing into the oppressive and somber atmosphere of the imperial capital. Inside the imperial study, the enormous LCD screen that once symbolized a high-dimensional civilization had been reduced to a pile of shattered industrial debris.

In the very center of the screen, the deep crater created by the remote control was emitting faint blue-purple sparks and crackling sounds of despair. Tiny shards of glass covered the expensive velvet carpet, like icicles crushed underfoot in winter.

Li Shimin stood at the very center of this scene of devastation.

His chest heaved violently, each breath accompanied by the heavy sound of bellows being pulled, as if two raging fires were burning inside his lungs. Sweat slid down his handsome temples, leaving a glistening trail on his excessively young face.

He stared intently at the shimmering snowflakes, his eyes bloodshot and filled with countless veins.

In that instant, the past decades flashed back and forth in Li Shimin's mind like a montage.

He recalled the early years of the Zhenguan era, when, for the sake of the Tang Dynasty, he painstakingly revised simple wooden slips word by word in the dead of night when the candles had burned out. He remembered how, in order to implement those strange and unusual new policies, he had engaged in heated debates with those old fogies in the court.

Later, Li Chengqian managed to get electric lights and a computer.

He originally thought this was a reward from heaven for his diligence as emperor, allowing him to govern the country more efficiently.

But who would have thought that this was a trap?

For the sake of that damned lunar base, he hasn't set foot in the harem for three whole months. To manage the global trade surplus, he even has to time his ginseng soup down to the second.

His youth, his energy, all his years as an "immortal," were completely drained by that bastard son who lay on the island drinking coconut juice.

"What sins have I committed...?"

Li Shimin muttered to himself, his voice hoarse as if it had been rubbed against rough gravel.

An indescribable sense of injustice, like a cold tide, instantly overwhelmed his reason. This injustice, due to the collapse of some critical point, quickly fermented into a kind of despair called "giving up entirely."

He turned around and looked at the stack of electronic memorials on the imperial desk, which weighed at least a hundred pounds. Those tablets, shimmering with a ghostly blue light, no longer seemed to him as the pulse of the empire, but as heavy iron locks, as bloodsucking leeches.

"The old ox...working..."

Li Shimin repeated these two words, a desolate and self-mocking smile curving his lips.

He suddenly raised his hand, his fingertips trembling as he touched the nine-tasseled crown on his head, a symbol of supreme power.

It was made of pure gold and inlaid with countless tiny gemstones, a pinnacle of craftsmanship, so heavy that it made his neck ache.

"Creak—"

Li Shimin exerted a sudden force, his fingers digging into the seams of the crown, making a cracking sound as his knuckles dislocated from the excessive force. Without a shred of pity, he ripped the crown off his head. A few strands of his glossy black hair flew through the air as he roughly tossed the crown aside, where it slammed onto the mahogany table with a dull thud.

Immediately afterwards, he grabbed the exquisite collar of the dragon robe with both hands and yanked it hard to both sides.

With a soft tearing sound, this special dragon robe, embodying the finest weaving techniques of the Tang Dynasty and impervious to swords and spears, was stripped away by him like trash. He slammed it to the ground and even stomped on it twice with his leather boots.

"To hell with this golden age! To hell with globalization!"

Li Shimin let out a low growl like a trapped beast, which sounded particularly abrupt in the deathly silent imperial study.

He suddenly turned around, and with all his might, kicked the hundred-pound electronic cassette player.

"boom!"

The hundred-pound memorial mountain collapsed with a crash under this kick. Dozens of specially made electronic tablets traced chaotic trajectories in the air, smashing against walls, bookshelves, and the ground, making a series of crisp cracking sounds.

Some tablets fell into the pile of broken glass, their screens still stubbornly flashing the words "Please review" before going out completely in a short-circuit smoke.

Only then did a very soft, faint sob come from a corner of the Imperial Study.

Wang De, accompanied by several of his personal eunuchs, was kneeling in a humiliating and humble posture amidst the pile of broken glass and electrical wires scattered on the ground.

Overwhelmed by fear, Wang De's old face was completely contorted. His eyes were tightly shut, the flesh on his cheeks trembled violently from his clenched teeth, and his forehead was pressed firmly against the shards of glass on the ground. Even though shards of glass had pierced his forehead, drawing bright red blood, he dared not move an inch.

He felt that the emperor before him was no longer the gentle and diligent wise ruler, but a god or demon who could unleash world-destroying heavenly fire at any moment.

The eunuch beside him was so frightened that he collapsed to the ground, and the faint sound of urine dripping down his trouser leg could be heard.

The air pressure in the entire imperial study was so low that it was hard to breathe; the suffocating feeling was as if an invisible hand was tightly gripping everyone's throat.

Li Shimin didn't even glance at the trembling servants kneeling on the ground.

He strode towards the door. With each step, the crisp sound of his boots crushing glass shards could be heard, sounding like war drums before a ritual in the deathly silent space.

He walked to the heavy sandalwood door of the Imperial Study.

This type of wood contains a special alloy provided by the system, making it strong enough to withstand bombardment from ordinary aerial bombs.

Li Shimin stopped in his tracks, his tall figure facing the silent palace servants. His white shirt was soaked with sweat and clung tightly to his back.

"Wang De".

He spoke, his voice utterly cold, devoid of any warmth.

Wang De, who was kneeling on the ground, shuddered and buried his head even deeper, his voice trembling uncontrollably: "This old servant...this old servant is here, Your Majesty, please give your orders."

Li Shimin's hand rested on the cold doorknob, his fingertips turning white from the force.

"From this moment on, the Tang Dynasty no longer belongs to the Li family."

He laughed self-deprecatingly, a short laugh that was filled with a kind of resolute determination to destroy everything.

"Issue orders to the Cabinet, to the military, and to those governors around the world."

Tell them the emperor is on strike.

"Whoever wants this empire can have it. Even a dog wouldn't sit on this throne!"

Li Shimin suddenly flung open the door.

Outside the door, the cool air of early autumn in Chang'an rushed in, but it couldn't dispel the overwhelming resentment in his chest.

He stepped out of the room, turning his head without looking back at the group of palace servants who stood frozen in shock, and issued his final, cold military order.

"Seal off Taiji Palace! Lock it down! Let whoever wants to govern this world do as they please!"

As Li Shimin's resolute footsteps faded into the distance, the two heavy sandalwood doors, driven by mechanical hinges, slammed shut with a gust of wind.

The dull closing sound echoed repeatedly in the empty corridor, as if forcibly pressing the end button on the prosperity of this glorious era.

Meanwhile, a thousand miles away in the direction of the Eastern Palace, a fast horse was crossing Zhuque Avenue. The messenger on horseback was pale-faced and tightly clutched the blood-red secret letter that was enough to bring the world to a standstill.