It was rumored that the princess insisted on marrying far away to the grasslands largely to avoid the Empress. However, even if this were true, in the eyes of the military leaders and court officials, the Fourth Princess’s refusal to rely on His Majesty’s favor, her initiative to avoid the Empress, and her efforts to prevent the intensification of conflicts among the empire’s upper echelons, were all seen as acts of great understanding and exceptional virtue.

For someone like David Carter, a battle-hardened frontier general of the Great Tang, they did not fear war, nor did they fear those barbarians. The princess marrying into the enemy’s land even made them feel deeply humiliated—yet no one would refuse the gift of peace bestowed by the heavens.

So their feelings toward that princess were complicated: a certain inexplicable anger, but also an inevitable sense of gratitude. In the end, all these emotions gradually turned into a trace of respect deep in their hearts, something they could not easily express.

Adam Spencer was an ordinary soldier. He didn’t know if he could understand the general’s complex emotions, and even if he did, he probably wouldn’t care, because what he was fighting for now concerned his own safety, and he had always believed that nothing was more important than his own life. So he pretended not to notice the general’s gloomy expression and continued, “I roughly counted the arrow holes on the carriage. That new Chanyu was ruthless and merciless. I estimate that at least half of the princess’s escort was lost on the grasslands.”

“They say it was horse bandits.” David Carter spoke with a somewhat unnatural expression, probably because even he didn’t believe this explanation.

“Even the Golden Tent Chanyu wouldn’t dare openly attack a princess of the Great Tang, so of course it was... it could only be horse bandits. But everyone knows who those horse bandits really were.” Adam Spencer continued, “But if you think about it carefully, something doesn’t add up. Everyone knows the horse bandits were actually the new Chanyu’s cavalry in disguise. Where did that barbarian get such courage? Wasn’t he afraid that the court would be furious and send troops to flatten his Golden Tent afterwards?”

The Great Tang was a nation founded on martial strength, its people simple, brave, and fierce—reputedly the strongest country in the world, and most concerned with dignity. However, if they truly wanted to wipe out the grassland barbarians’ Golden Tent, it would likely cost the nation more than half its strength.

To plunge the empire into turmoil and hardship over an attack on a married princess seemed impossible, but in fact, such stories—whether called impulsive or heroic—were common throughout the history of the Great Tang.

The most famous example occurred in the late years of the Taizu Emperor.

At that time, a certain tribe on the grasslands massacred a village on the White Sheep Road, killing all 140 villagers. When the imperial envoy went to demand justice, the arrogant Chanyu of that tribe cut off his ears and sent him back. Taizu flew into a rage and immediately decided to personally lead a campaign against the grasslands. The entire empire mobilized, supporting a mighty force of eighty thousand cavalry to march north. The tribe was terrified, fled in panic through wind and snow deep into the northern wastelands, but the Tang cavalry pursued relentlessly, fighting for months on end, and ultimately exterminated the entire enemy tribe.

Months of continuous battle, the complete annihilation of the enemy cavalry—such a simple description, such a seemingly dashing and glorious ending, concealed the terrible price paid by the Tang Empire.

To sustain this costly war, the court conscripted a million laborers, requisitioned livestock from three counties in Hebei, left the fields around Minshan desolate, emptied nine out of ten households, quadrupled taxes in the south, stirred up public resentment, and left officials unable to manage state affairs. The whole realm teetered on the brink of chaos and collapse.

The most remarkable quality of the Tang Empire was revealed in the evaluation of this event during that most dangerous moment and in the countless years that followed.

When the imperial cavalry marched to the wastelands, the rebel armies in the south did not seize the opportunity to intensify their attacks. On the contrary, they retreated into the mountains and lakes, as if they did not want to drag the empire down at such a time. The rebels, perhaps not all motivated by lofty ideals, and perhaps some did want to seize this heaven-sent chance, but they had to face a reality—the poor commoners who had quietly supported them, many grassroots leaders and soldiers in the rebel ranks, when the time came to seize the opportunity, expressed their strongest opposition through their feet and their silence.

The Tang Taizu who won this war did not enjoy a high historical reputation, not even within the empire. Whether in the official histories or in the tales told by storytellers in taverns, the evaluations of this mighty ruler rarely stray from accusations of being vainglorious, favoring treacherous ministers, ruling harshly, seeking immortality without virtue, and so on.

But whether it was the most pedantic scholars, the most anti-authoritarian academy professors, or the farmers and merchants who hated increased taxes the most, they would find all sorts of reasons to curse that founding emperor, but never did anyone think that the war—fought at such cost and suffering for the people, all because of the emperor’s anger—should not have been fought.

Because from the founding of the nation to the present, the people living on this land have always insisted on and defended a simple principle: I won’t bully you, but don’t even think about bullying me. Even if I have bullied you, you... still don’t think about bullying me!

Whoever bullies me, I will fight them.

This is the very foundation of the Tang Empire.

This is the path to the Tang Empire’s strength.

And this is precisely why the most powerful nation in the world is called Tang.

Chapter Four: An Exploration of the Atypical Tang Person’s Future

The reason the Great Tang is called the Great Tang is precisely because of these simple yet powerful things.