Late Tang: Reviving the Spirit of Han

In the third year of the Qianning era, corpses lay piled high outside Taiyuan.

Lin Fu clutched half a broken spear as he crawled out of the mound of bodies, the blood of Shatuo cavalry still lodged in his throat. He should have been a history graduate student in the twenty-first century. Instead, he had become a cannon-fodder soldier in the waning years of the Tang Dynasty.

The remnants of Huang Chao’s rebellion had yet to be subdued, warlords circled like wolves, and the Tang emperor was little more than a figurehead.

To his left lay a Tang Dynasty nearly trampled beneath the hooves of warhorses. To his right, the rival states of Liang and Jin eyed each other hungrily.

Lin Fu touched the military tally he had stolen from his belt, the blood-red Fen River reflected in his eyes.

“In this troubled age, either others carve up your land and leave you in pieces, or you carve out your own territory and become king.”

The iron hooves of the Shatuo cavalry drew closer. He picked up the broken spear and gave a cold smile toward Taiyuan beneath the setting sun.

Tonight, he would begin by killing a general and capturing his banner.