I Will Make the Tang Dynasty's Golden Age Even Greater

The day Qin Hao wakes up as a frozen corpse on Vermilion Bird Street, all he has in his pocket is half a moldy flatbread. Pointing at the sky, thirteen hundred years in the future, he tells his shivering Hu brother sworn in brotherhood: “See that? Those flying up there aren't immortals. They're iron birds!” When Li Shimin gives him a plaque for his refined liquor, Qin Hao turns around and shoves a distiller in the emperor's face: “Drink my ass! Do you know how deadly excessive methanol residue is?” When the aristocratic clans use the Classic of Filial Piety to choke off Chang'an's canal transport, he swings a blacksmith's hammer and smashes the tiles of the Golden Hall: “Food crisis? I'll teach you what protein conversion efficiency means!” When two hundred thousand Turkic cavalry descend on the banks of the Wei River, he lights a jar of nitroglycerin: “I'll call the explosive yield. Let's send these wolves of the grasslands flying like fireworks!” When the empress's pulse grows faint and the chancellor's lungs rot away, the imperial physicians kneel and wail that fate cannot be defied. Qin Hao kicks open the Imperial Medical Bureau's doors, hauling in his homemade surgical lamp and icy scalpel: “Old Sun, give me a hand! Today we're performing open-heart surgery on the Tang Empire!” He has beheaded a Turkic khagan, and he dares expose the truth behind the crown prince's limp to the emperor himself. He has broken the chains the aristocratic clans forged over a thousand years, and even uses a hammer to force a father and son, bound by the blood feud of Xuanwu Gate, into each other's arms. The court's high officials curse him as arrogant and lawless, but Li Shimin slams the Son of Heaven's sword down on the table: “Stay close to him! The man carries the fiery spirit of China, boiling a thousand years ahead of its time!”